The Billionaire's Submissive

Losing control

ADAM'S POV

It was two days after I had arrived from France, and I was still as tired as hell.
After the phone call with Eve's supposed husband, I blocked his contact.

Not out of fear of his threats. Hilarious. I may sound like an asshole, but after hearing his voice over the phone, I was pretty sure he was a wimp. I doubted he could take me on. And if he could, there was no doubt I would whoop his ass.

I sat in the boardroom, at the head of a long ass table, surrounded by the members of the media team. One of them stood by a wall, pointing at a projected slide and yammering about choosing a model to help advertise the new hotel that was currently being built. It would be finished soon, and they couldn't wait to publicize it already.

Well, I could wait.

What was the rush? There were a lot of other projects to deal with. Buildings needed management. And management meant money. I had a quota I wanted to meet by the end of the year.

I'd just attended the meeting to give my head some breathing space. I had worked hard and raised the Stone Foundation from the ground, high up. And I had to keep doing so because I couldn't afford to fall. I would make sure that never happened. Again.

And if my mother wanted what was best for me, she would quit her campaign on me getting married. Because it would not happen.
It had been three days since I arrived in New York.

Three days since my mother had arrived in my home and made it her domain. I had woken up to the smell of bacon and eggs that morning. And while I was happy to see my mother and eat her cooking, I still got mad.

She was supposed to be resting! Not cooking me meals and running around the house. I could get a maid or my secretary to do all that shit. If I could, I would tie her down to her bed and have someone do every  single thing for her.

Hell, that did not sound like a bad idea, I thought with a chuckle. What was the worst that could happen? She wouldn't be able to move, not to mention, hit my head in anger like she usually did.

But she could talk Anabelle into setting her free, though. I suppose that would put a setback to my plans. Mother would have a fit and would proceed to disown me the minute she was free.

I chuckled again, earning looks from my employees.

"Sir?" The presenter paused, looking at me with wide eyes. On the screen was a woman whom I presumed to be a model dressed in the most flighty dress ever. She looked more like a hooker than a model.

"Find new models," I grunted.

"These are top quality models -"

I shrugged and motioned to the presenter to continue. I had exactly seventeen minutes left to spend in this meeting. Seventeen minutes to take a micro nap.

While the presenter yammered on and on, I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to wander as they had in the past few days, to the one person I had sworn to myself I wouldn't think about.

I could see her sprawled against my bed again, hands holding up her thighs baring her pussy right before me.

Fuck!

It was pink. Pink and puffy and wet. They suited her pale skin so well. So  perfect. My mouth watered at the memory and
I growled low in my throat, feeling both antsy and satisfied. I wanted to make her mine. I ached to make her my submissive. She was so  perfect, she would take it all like a good girl.

Ah hell! This was madness. One would think I ought to have gotten over her by now. She was just a one night stand. Just a damned one night stand! Why the hell was I so invested in her?