The Billionaire's Submissive

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ADAM'S POV

“Welcome Boss,” Matt said as I stepped out of the cab as quickly as possible.

He was a bald huge man who looked a lot terrifying when he had dark glasses on but looked damned adorable as a fucking rabbit with his glasses off. Those were my sister’s words. Definitely not mine.

I was never and would never be into men. And if I was, I would never use the word adorable for my three hundred pound bodyguard.

Not unless I had a fucking death wish.
I tipped my head at his silence and waltzed past him into the airport. I had no time to spare. My mother had a fucking heart attack while I was all the way on another continent. I was too damned antsy to think about anything else.

As we weaved through the teeming crowd at the airport, I tossed a glance at one of their shiny surfaces trying to catch a glimpse of how I looked.

The last thing I wanted was for one of those paparazzi bozos to take a picture of me while I looked underdressed.; They would never let me hear the end of it. I could see the fucking headlines in my head and they definitely weren’t good.

'Play boy Adam Stone caught off guard in Paris looking quite boorish for a man who has all of New York in a twist.'

Or something more ridiculous like "New York's heartthrob looking like a hobo on a damned Friday morning."

They always had stupid headlines that made the smallest of all things sound like a big thing.The last thing I wanted was Sally, my external affairs manager on my case, saying shit about me not keeping the bad boy persona on beat. I had no idea what that meant. And I didn't care.

"Have you sorted everything?" I asked Matt as we made a turn towards the reserved area of the expert. 

"Yes boss," He replied behind me. "The jet has been prepared. Sorted all the papers and shit, we should be clear for landing in New York,"

"We should be?" I asked, stopping in my tracks. Turning around briefly to face my bodyguard, I arched a brow at him. "Or we are?"

Matt scratched his head in a way Anabelle often described as cute and it irked me. I hadn't hired him originally to follow me around. I was man enough to take good fucking care of myself without a lumbering jackass trailing behind me.

I took pride in being able to take good care of myself dammit. I had gotten him to be Anabelle's personal guard. But after a week, it became rather clear that Matt would not fit. My sister had fancied herself in love with him and would 'follow' him everywhere instead.

I hated the thought of it.
But Matt hated it even more. He had begged to be swapped on the seventh day. Who was I to refuse a man in distress? Anabelle had not been happy with it however. But she'd grown over it I suppose.

"I guess we are?" He replied and I cocked my head to the side. "We are clear for landing,  Boss,"  He assured me and only then did I resume walking.

Perhaps I was a little too demanding and a tad too meticulous. But I didn't get to where I was by simply waiting around for people to do my bidding and wishes. I demanded.

I enforced it. I made sure every criteria was met down to the last detail. I hated disorderliness. I hated when shit didn't go according to plan.  They fucked with my head and I hated everything that fucked with my head.

Well perhaps not everything, I mused when a certain familiar pair of blue eyes drifted through my mind briefly.

Eve.

Fuck, I was leaving her. I wished I could drop a call or a text or something for her. Anything to let her know I wasn't in Paris anymore.

But my mother was more important. Much more fucking important at the moment. I had instructed Anabelle to get the doctor's report and that I would be there as soon as I could.

I could imagine my sister's terrified state. She would be a mess. A total mess. Anabelle was the exact polar opposite of me and it had taken a lot of money and threatened to keep her away from the eyes of the media.

They knew she existed, but any bastard who tried to take a picture of her or bully her into answering his questions would rue the day they were born.

Because I would ruin anyone who tried to mess with my family.

Anyone.

Slipping out of the doors of the airport, I marched towards my private Jet. She was a beauty that had cost quite a lot but was worth every penny. She moved at a crazy fast speed, was as luxurious as ever with a jacuzzi, and an inbuilt bar.

One of the very few of its kind.
It was one of the things I hadn't regretted buying. I craved my privacy more than anything else. Being a billionaire and growing in the eyes of the public had its perks.

But it also had a lot of downfalls.
Especially when one had a father like the one I had. A scheming bastard who couldn't care less about the lives of his wife or children.

The scandals of my father still blew in my face from time to time, threatening the very core of the Stone Foundation. It was the major reason why I did all I could to keep a tight leash on my private life.

The public would only see what I wanted them to see. And that was it. The air hostess rambled off a set of instructions in French while I climbed the stairs.

I ignored her though, my mind entirely on my mother and her illness. Last I had checked, last I had seen her, mother had been fine.
It had been a few days before I left for France three weeks ago.

She had invited me to her home for dinner. If it were left to her, we would still be leaving together. But I was a man. I needed my privacy. There was no way I could have all that with my mother around. She would hover and hover around me until I grew sick of her.

And who could blame her?
She had raised us on her own. My father, Robert Stone, had been the CEO of a company that thrived quite well in its own niche. We had a comfortable childhood when it came to money.

However the rest? The rest was fucking history. Robert Stone was a drunk and fucking cheat. He didn't care one bit whatever happened to my mother or whatever happened to us his children. At first my mother tried. Oh she had.

She would try to hide his addiction from us. Making up excuses when he forgot to pick us up at school or when he crashed the plants by the door way. But she couldn't stop us from going to school now, could she?

And we heard it all, right there. In fucking school. Damned classmates would wave their skinny arms in my face, rubbing a newspaper containing my father's picture and his latest mistress in my face, mocking me. Mocking us. Mocking Anabelle.

Mother had done all she could to raise us on her own since Father was barely around. She constantly doted on us, trying to fill the void that my father constantly dug into her. She had suffered so much. Too fucking much.

Which was exactly why I hated to know that she had suffered from a heart attack again!

"Fuck!" I hissed, plopping my ass on a sofa in the private Jet. Matt settled somewhere behind me. I couldn't care less.

All I could think about was why the heart attack had happened again. What more did I have to do to provide for her? What more did I have to do to cure her of that damned heart condition?!

I would give the world if I had to, anything to make sure she didn't fall sick again.
Too irritated to sit still, I fished out a laptop from the table and turned it on just as the jet rolled off the runway. Thankfully I had finished my work in Paris. There was no need to return.

Except for certain blue eyes.

Eve.

With a wistful sigh, I tapped rapidly on the system, trying to find a better hospital for my mother. I wanted to get rid of her problems once and for all. And then I could breathe easily. Sending a text to Anabelle that I would be in New York in a few hours, I dropped my phone and leaned forward tapping rapidly on the laptop.

After what seemed like years, Matt's deep baritone voice reached my ears, drawing me out of the folds of work.

"Boss? We're here,"

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