The Billionaire's Dark Desire - Episode 1 - The Invitation Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Episode One

  Other Books by K. C. Hunter

  About the Author

  THE

  BILLIONAIRE’S

  DARK DESIRE

  EPISODE 1

  The Invitation

  by

  K. C. HUNTER

  The Billionaire’s Dark Desire

  Episode 1 - The Invitation

  Copyright 2014 © K. C. Hunter

  Image of Man © Canstock Photos

  * * * *

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted, No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Published in the Unites States of America.

  Episode One

  Before Cora Radford entered Haskins, Stearn and Macaulay’s main conference room, she took in and released three long, slow, deep breaths. The other employees at the law firm glanced curiously at her as she continued to stand outside the conference room door. She ignored them. None of them were about to meet with Marsha Stearn, one of the senior partners of the firm, who was known surreptitiously as the Iron Bitch.

  And certainly none of them were about to meet one of the wealthiest, sexiest and most secretive men in the world.

  Once Cora felt sufficiently composed, she opened the door and stepped inside.

  Marsha, who quickly turned around at the sound of the door opening, shot Cora an irritated look.

  “It’s about time,” she said testily. “I was about to release the hounds to search for you.”

  Marsha was in her late fifties but wore her age well. Tall, dark-haired and fashionably attired, one would never call her beautiful with her puckered mouth, square jaw and hooded eyes. But she carried herself like the queen she imagined herself to be and she never failed to draw attention no matter where she was.

  “I’m sorry,” Cora said as she closed the door behind her. “I was on the phone with–”

  “I don’t care if you were on the phone with his Holiness the Pope,” Marsha snapped, “I will not abide tardiness.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Cora placed her phone and tablet on the oblong-shaped table. As she did, she looked down the end of it.

  A man sat there. A man whose boldly handsome face had graced the covers of the world’s leading magazines for over a decade. First as the lead singer of the most famous rock band in the world, Lethe, and then as the owner of one of the world’s largest media and entertainment conglomerates, The Elysium Group, which consisted of over 800 companies worldwide.

  Acheron Thanatos.

  That wasn’t his real name, of course. He never claimed it was, but he also never disclosed the one he was born under and, so far, no one had been able to discover it. It wasn’t from lack of trying on the part of reporters or the curious. In an age where secrets were proving harder and harder to keep, someone should have found out something about him.

  But somehow, Acheron Thanatos had succeeded in keeping everything about his past hidden. As far as anyone knew, he appeared out of nowhere with his black eyeliner, lean, muscular body and powerful, dynamic songs about sex, love and death.

  All of the songs Acheron wrote for the band had also possessed a distinctly mythological edge to them, which had aroused Cora’s interest in him and the band even more. She’d been fascinated by mythology, especially Greek mythology, since she was a child. The name of the band, Lethe, was a river in Hades whose water caused those who drank from it to forget their past. As for Acheron’s stage name, Acheron was a river that ran through Hades. It was also another name for the Greek god of the underworld while Thanatos was the god of non-violent death.

  For whatever reason, Acheron had surrounded himself with images and symbols that highlighted the Greek god of the underworld. Now, no longer that fierce, electrifying young man who’d been the object of millions of girls, women and even some men’s sexual fantasies, Acheron was in his early thirties, impeccably dressed in a gray, fashionably tailored suit that probably cost as much as Cora made in a year.

  His hair was a dark, rich chestnut and, even from where she stood, she knew his eyes were the deepest, duskiest blue. And that was because those eyes had stared back at her from album covers, posters and magazines ever since she was fifteen and heard her first Lethe song. The song had been called Give Me Death.

  Cora had cried every day for a week, unable to stop playing it over and over. It had been silly of course, looking back at it, but at the time she couldn’t help feeling as if the song, which was about a man searching for his lost love and preferring the embrace of death to living life alone, had been written especially for her.

  But who hadn’t thought that? It was the secret of Lethe’s phenomenal success. All the songs Acheron wrote for the band invariably reached down into some deep, secret part of your soul, caressing all of your dreams, longings and desires.

  So, like all of Lethe’s ardently devoted fans, Cora had fallen in lust with the band and, most especially, its lead singer. She bought all of Lethe’s songs with the money she made baby-sitting and pleaded with her parents to buy her tickets when the band finally came to Atlanta.

  Which her devoutly religious parents refused to do, sternly chiding Cora regarding her obsession with the band and warning her that Acheron was nothing more than a wicked minion of the Devil.

  But, eventually, as with all things from her restless, agitated adolescence, she grew up and moved on from Lethe, no longer that awkward, moody, impulsive teen. She was an adult now, with adult responsibilities.

  But here he was. Acheron Thanatos in the flesh and, as Cora looked at him, she felt a sharp, physical reaction that was not only visceral but intensely erotic. She felt it in her nipples, which throbbed and pulsed beneath her silk blouse as if someone was pinching and biting them. She felt it along the curve of her spine, like a wet tongue slowly licking her skin, and she felt it in the ripening softness of her swelling sex.

  It was the way Acheron was staring at her. As if nothing in that room, the world, possibly even the universe existed but her. No one had ever looked at her in that way.

  Cora inwardly shook her head. She was imagining things. She was just one of twenty-three associate attorneys in the firm, while he was Acheron Thanatos. Insanely rich, extraordinarily famous and one of the most desired men in the world.

  He’d dated or been seen in the company of some of the world’s most beautiful women. Actresses, pop-stars, daughters of the rich and wealthy, even the occasional princess. Just a few months ago, Cora had chanced across an article on some celebrity gossip website that featured a picture of him attending the Cannes Film Festival with Finola Vaughn, a famous actress who was often featured in magazines as one of the world’s top beauties.

  Cora was nothing compared to her or to Acheron. The only reason she was in this room with him was because he’d expressed a sudden and surprising interest in doing business with Haskins, Stearn and Macaulay.

  The partners, most especially Marsha, had drooled at the prospect of having him as a client and it was Cora’s job to make sure
that happened. And that was because, for some inexplicable reason known only to him, Acheron Thanatos had specifically requested to meet with her.

  “I can assure you, Mr. Thanatos,” Marsha said, her gravelly voice breaking into Cora’s thoughts, “that we at Haskins, Stearn and Macaulay do not tolerate such impertinent behavior on the part of our attorneys. We pride ourselves on our—”

  Acheron made a sudden, sharp gesture with his hand. Marsha immediately stopped talking, which made Cora’s eyes widen. He had silenced Marsha while she was talking. Something anyone who valued their job or, for that matter, their life, never dared do, and he’d done it as coolly as if she were nothing more than some English Mastiff he’d trained.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “She’s here now. That’s all that concerns me.”

  His voice was rich, low and sensuous and, as he gazed over at Cora, it felt as if he were caressing her with that voice. Leisurely, intimately, warmly.

  Then, slowly, a smile curled around his firm lips, which was reflected in his dark blue eyes. “And she was worth the wait.”

  Marsha cleared her throat, even as her eyes shot daggers. “Cora Radford. One of our newer attorneys.”

  Marsha turned toward Acheron. “However, as I mentioned before, the firm does have more experienced attorneys, particularly in entertainment and corporate law. Cora’s areas of knowledge are civil rights and— “

  Acheron made that same sharp gesture with his hand. And once again, as if Marsha were nothing more than a puppet and Acheron held her strings, she stopped talking.

  Cora was shocked. She’d never seen anyone exercise that kind of control over Marsha. She found it mystifying and—although she would have never admitted it in Marsha’s presence-—extremely gratifying.

  “I don’t want your more experienced attorneys,” Acheron said, his voice low but firm. “I want her.”

  Marsha looked as if she was about to say something but, surprising Cora once again, she remained silent. Taking this as a sign, Cora sat down. She glanced at Marsha, who remained standing, her arms crossed, her expression disapproving. Of Cora. Not Acheron. Marsha would never disapprove of him. Not when he represented millions of possible revenue for the firm.

  Cora looked back over at Acheron. That covert, beguiling smile was still curled about his lips and his eyes stared deeply into hers.

  When Marsha told her that morning she was going to meet with Acheron, it had thrown Cora into a panic because Marsha was right. Cora mostly dealt with civil rights and immigration law. She didn’t know that much about entertainment law or corporate law, for that matter. She hadn’t become a lawyer to get rich. She became a lawyer because she honestly wanted to help people.

  But here she was, expected to convince someone like Acheron, who could have his pick of the biggest law firms in the world, that he should do business with Haskins, Stearn and Macaulay. Not a small or insignificant law firm by any means. It was one of the oldest and biggest in Atlanta, but hardly a major player. And Cora was expected to convince someone like Acheron that their firm could do what a larger, more prestigious law firm could not.

  Fat chance of that. But, since Marsha was closely observing her, Cora had no choice but to do her best. Using her tablet, which was wirelessly hooked into the conference room’s overhead projector, she described all the services the firm could provide Acheron, playing up its strengths as best she could.

  When she was done, she placed her tablet on the table. While she had talked, Acheron had sat, silent and unmoving, his gaze locked on her.

  Marsha, who had remained standing, her eyes moving rapidly between Acheron and Cora, loudly cleared her throat. The throat clearing was her way of saying that she wasn’t pleased about something.

  Probably the fact that as hard as Cora had tried, she’d most likely done a lackluster job of selling the firm. It wasn’t her fault. She had told Marsha she wasn’t the right person for the presentation.

  Acheron shot Marsha a quick, angry look and, another surprise for Cora, the older woman deeply blushed, something Cora had never imagined she was even capable of.

  Acheron then turned back to Cora. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, doubtless a tad too eagerly. But it had unnerved her when he hadn’t said anything during her presentation. As if he didn’t care what she had to say about the firm.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” he asked.

  Startled by the question, Cora looked over at Marsha, who widened her eyes and gestured fiercely with her eyebrows to answer him and be damned quick about it.

  “Nothing,” she said. “At least, not anything important.”

  Which was true. All she had planned this weekend was a girls’ night out on Saturday with her best friend, Lise Mizell.

  “Good. I’d like you to come visit me this weekend at my villa. I’m having a little get together.”

  Marsha made some kind of strange noise with her throat, which wasn’t quite her customary clearing but more of a gargling sound. Cora, however, kept her attention focused on Acheron, wondering if she’d heard him right.

  “Your villa?”

  He smiled. “Yes. It’s just off the coast of Greece. On my island.”

  Cora was tempted to laugh. This had to be some kind of joke. Maybe Marsha was playing one on her. Because, in the reality Cora lived in, one of the richest, sexiest men in the world didn’t just walk in off the street and invite someone like her to visit him at his villa on a Greek island that he also happened to own.

  But when she saw the expressions on both Marsha and Acheron’s faces, she knew it wasn’t a joke.

  “You’re serious?” she said.

  Marsha made another gargled sound but Cora ignored her.

  “Yes,” Acheron replied. “Quite.”

  “I…well…I….”

  This time Cora did look over at Marsha. And she could tell from her expression that she wanted Cora to accept Acheron’s invitation. A sudden heat flushed through Cora’s body. Ever since she’d started working at the firm, Marsha had made it quite clear what she thought of Cora. And it boiled down to the fact Marsha could not bring herself to accept that anyone who looked like Cora could possibly be taken seriously as a lawyer.

  Cora was not vain about her looks and was often embarrassed concerning them. Her long auburn hair, which she normally wore in a bun, along with her green eyes, complimented her skin tone. She’d gotten her eyes and hair from her mother and her warm brown skin from her father. She also worked out religiously and, as a result, was in excellent shape.

  Both in high school and college, her friends had encouraged her to consider a career in modeling. A woman claiming to be an agent for a modeling agency had even approached her once in a coffee shop. Cora had tossed the woman’s card in the nearest wastebasket. She hadn’t wanted to be known only for her looks and often went out of her way to downplay them.

  However, it was no secret Marsha had decided Cora’s only real asset to the firm was her physical attributes. Ever since she started working, Marsha had come up with any number of reasons for Cora to attend certain meetings. However, Cora usually just sat mutely as Marsha did all the talking while the potential and invariably male clients Marsha was trying to woo stared at Cora. But, until today, that was as far as Marsha had gone.

  Cora turned to Acheron. “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Thanatos. But I don’t believe that would be appropriate. However, if you wish to discuss my presentation in more detail, I’d be more than happy to meet with you further. Here at the office or, if it’s more convenient for you, perhaps by video conference.”

  Marsha took a step forward. “Cora, I think you should reconsider–”

  Acheron reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and handed a card to Marsha. “Give that to her.”

  Marsha obediently took the card and handed it to Cora. There was nothing on it but a phone number. She looked over at Acheron.

  He smiled. “If you should change you
r mind about the invitation.”

  “Don’t worry,” Marsha said. “She’ll do as she’s told—”

  Acheron rose from his chair then looked heatedly over at Marsha, who abruptly closed her mouth and lowered her head.

  He buttoned his suit jacket. “Thank you, Ms. Stearn, for the presentation. I’ll have my people get back to your people.”

  “But, but….” was all Marsha could say as Acheron headed for the door.

  He stopped, however, when he drew near to Cora and took her hand in his. His fingers were long and masculine but meticulously manicured. She couldn’t help imagining them brushing across her skin, gliding along her breasts and tormenting her nipples.

  Her heart began racing. Where had that thought come from? She looked up at him. Despite the fact she was five foot eight, he towered over her. Close up his dark blue eyes were strangely hypnotic, and she felt an elusive but undeniable erotic attraction between them.

  He gazed into her eyes, his intently searching as if seeking a devoutly desired answer to a question he’d not yet voiced yet desperately needed to know.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Radford,” he said in that low, sensual voice that curled around her like warm silk. “And I do hope you reconsider my invitation.”

  He released her hand and headed toward the door.

  “At least allow me to have someone escort you out–”

  “I know my way out, Ms. Stearn. Good day.”

  He opened the door and left the room. Marsha stared avidly after him, her body language clearly that of someone desperate to pursue and bring to ground an escaping prey.

  But there was no doubt in Cora’s mind that Acheron Thanatos was no one’s prey and never would be.

  Marsha closed the door then whirled on Cora. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Cora jerked back, startled but not surprised by Marsha’s angry tone. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Marsha’s thick eyebrows rose until they touched her hairline. “Oh, I think you do know.” Her voice was as flat and hard as her gray eyes. “Because even you must see there’s something quite wrong with just letting Acheron Thanatos walk through that door.”