The Ceo's Contracted Mistress
The Ceo’s Contracted Mistress Chapter 11

Her eyes were burning, and Bobbie was wishing he’d let her go back to her room. At the very least she could have grabbed her glasses and taken out her lenses. Crying with them in always made her regret wearing them, not as if she’d cried often but in the shower with Olivier, she’d felt vulnerable with his tender touch, and she had wept. Now her eyes were dry, itching, and sore.

She heard him talking to a man in the other room and he laughed at something the man said and then wished him goodnight. He walked back into the room carrying several packages.

“What’s all this?”

“I had my security team get our dinner from a nearby restaurant instead of room service and had them stop and get you toiletries for the night.” He tossed a paper bag at her, “you probably need to get your contacts out.”

He had been the one who had first gotten her contacts. She’d worn glasses when they’d met but her prescription had been old and even with them, she had squinted at him. He had taken her one afternoon to an ophthalmologist, had gotten her prescription updated and had eyeglasses and contact lenses delivered to her at the hotel room within a couple of days. In retrospect she should have known how rich he had been considering it took weeks to get her prescription refilled now. Money made things happen, even rush order contacts and glasses.

“Thank you,” she slipped out of the bed and padded off to the bathroom to remove her lenses. In the bag she found a toothbrush, toothpaste, solution and a case for her contact lenses and a box of condoms. She rolled her eyes, “you could have just allowed me to go back to my own room.”

“I told you, you scream too loud. The Hoffmans and the children would come running and I’m betting you would be embarrassed.” He laughed at her blush.

“You’re a fool,” she shook her head in the mirror as she began the process of taking out her lenses.

“Keep talking and I’m going to eat the banana split I shoved in the mini-fridge and not share.” He called back to her.

“Go ahead, I had a banana split last night in the room with the kids. My a*s doesn’t need the extra calories anyway.”

“Your butt is fine, that was cuss word number five and I had Henri go to the creamery place you used to love.”

She made a face in the mirror knowing he had her pegged. “Don’t touch my banana split or I’ll kill you.”

His laugh made her lips tug upward.

“What are Max and Ollie’s favorite desserts? Are they ice cream fiends like their mother?” He came closer and leaned against the bathroom door watching her.

“Ice cream is always a good option for them, but Max is a sucker for apple pie, especially deep dish. Ollie,” she shook her head, “she has a thing for those greasy donuts you replace at a county fair. The ones sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. The greasier the better.” She looked at him sideways and saw the grin. “I know!” He had once devoured an entire bag sitting in their bed and it had been an uncomfortable night sleeping in the sugary mess.

“Like her namesake,” Olivier puffed up.

“You mean greasy?” she teased and edged away from his fingers which poked at her ribs.

“You remember I’m bigger than you. You can get turned over my knee.” He winked.

“Funny. I don’t remember you being a sadist, but you should know I don’t condone corporal punishment.”

“On the kids never, on your a*s for being sassy, it’s going to happen,” he moved to stand behind her, resting his hands upon her h**s. “You’re even mouthier now than you were then.”

Bobbie washed her hands in the sink wishing she weren’t such a pushover where he was concerned. She was supposed to hate him. He had been her employer; her John and it had been a job. She should never have fallen for him back then. Even if he hadn’t traded her, he still would have ended it on the Sunday when he returned, and she would have been sent packing. “I’m no longer being paid thus I don’t need to censor myself.” She didn’t meet his eyes in the mirror but felt his grip tighten on her h**s before his hands fell away.

He walked out of the bathroom wordlessly, but she felt his anger radiating despite his attempt to control it. She exhaled slowly and then made her way back to the bedroom. “I’d like to go back to my room, alone.”

“In the morning,” his voice was flat as he sat on the bed and kicked his feet up and crossed them at the ankles. He grabbed a bag of food and opened it, setting it on his lap. He didn’t bother to wait for her and tucked into his meal. He motioned to where he’d tossed her phone to the bed. “I’d like to see more photos and videos of the kids. I’m sure your phone is loaded with them.”

She nodded, “I upload them to my cloud. If you have a laptop I can log into my account, and you can see them better on a big screen instead of the tiny one.” Why she felt she needed to call a truce was beyond her but here she was extending the olive branch. She watched as he slipped back off the bed and came back with his computer.

She opened up the bag of food meant for her and sat back against the pillows while he logged into his computer and brought up an internet browser for her. She quickly logged her credentials into the website and pushed the device back at him. “Go ahead. There’s eight years of photos there. I’ve had to buy storage almost every year but it’s worth it. I have them all backed up on a drive at home in my fireproof safe. I back them up once a month to the drive and it’s part of my routine to put them on the cloud.”

“You’re not concerned someone would hack the account?”

“Who wants pictures of me and my brats?”

“You forget they are mine as well and I can promise you, once the world replaces out this tidbit of information, many people will try to hack this account. I’ll have my head of IT arrange a more secure way for you to keep these safe from the hands of the press and the paparazzi.”

“Paparazzi?”

He lifted a piece of steak with his fork and put it in his mouth as he flipped to the beginning photos. “Yes, paparazzi. I tend to not get followed much as I’m not one for scandal and intrigue but once the word gets out, I have eight-year-old twins, there is likely going to be a blip in the radar.”

She felt sick to her stomach as she pushed the container of food to the side. “They could get hurt.”

“They will not get hurt. I’ve already arranged security for all three children, your friends and you.” He shrugged. “They do not even know they are being watched but they are all safe. Did you notice them at the Space Center or the park today?” At her surprised shake of her head he continued, “they are being watched right now as they walk back from the restaurant. I’ve been getting updates all day. My sister’s children have guards and live a completely normal life. Ours will as well.” He motioned to her with his fork, “eat or no dessert.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, “I never asked, and I’ve never looked you up online. Grady did this morning and he said you’re stupidly wealthy. What do you do?”

He looked at her incredulously, “not once in all this time did you ever look me up online?”

“No,” she poked her fork at her potato. “Why would I?”

“Curiosity?”

“I never wanted to know,” she admitted quietly. “I never wanted to know whether or not you’d been caught or if there were others like me. I was always scared to check and replace out the father of my children was in prison for a prostitution ring or trafficking women.”

“I promise, my money was made in much more legal means than prostitution,” he rolled his eyes. “Bernard is going to pay for putting such s**t in your head.”

She had a feeling she hadn’t been meant to hear his words but instead she motioned to the screen. “I arranged them in chronological order. If you scroll,” she chuckled, “I mean there’s thousands of folders, but you can go right to the beginning.” She took a bite of her food and then frowned, “I’m quite sure the video of them being born is there. Grady insisted on the video. During my entire pregnancy and the first year they were born, he begged me to give him the name of their father. He felt strongly you had a right to see your children. He captured a lot of the photos saved here just in case I ever changed my mind.”

She saw his frown, “on their first birthday I had too much wine. It was my first drink since I’d found out I was pregnant, and Grady and I got into a huge fight. He swore at me and told me I was robbing a father of his kids. I told him I was protecting my kids from a s*x trafficker. I spilled my whole story to them. He backed off but every year on the twin’s birthday he asks me if he can act as my lawyer and petition for child support and I always refuse.” Her admission hurt her and knew he felt his own pain from it. “I spent too many nights terrified you or Bernard were going to replace me and hurt me or the kids. I built you specifically into a monster into my head because you sold me off, traded me to him and he made it clear he was going to have s*x with me whether I liked it or not. I couldn’t let such people around my babies. I just couldn’t.” She sighed setting her fork down, “it’s why I didn’t google you. It’s why I didn’t let Grady chase you. I know you probably hate me for it, and I know it’s the incentive for punishing me and keeping me here, but I did what I had to do to keep them safe.”

He reached out a finger and turned her chin until she was facing him, “I do not hate you. While I do not like it, I am proud of you for doing what you thought was best to keep our children safe from people like Bernard. It tells me you were far more concerned about their safety than my bank account and it speaks to your character. I am not keeping you here to punish you, Bobbie. I’m keeping you here because tomorrow we are going to introduce me to our children and before it happens, you need to be comfortable with me again. If it means we’re up all night talking it out, then it is what it is. I see this as a win-win situation. I will be part of my children’s lives, but I also get you. You’re smart, resourceful, beautiful and if memory serves, hot-blooded,” he teased her as she shrivelled her nose up. He opened the first folder on the computer. “I’ll probably need a box of tissues watching this won’t I?”

“Are you a crier?” She had considered the moment in the shower an oddity but as she regarded him now, he showed no sign of embarrassment at his emotions.

“My sister asked me to be godfather to my niece. I cried the whole baptism. There’s video evidence. They play it at Christmas on my father’s home theatre to torment me.”

“Really?” she made a face, “you always seemed so cold.”

“You replace me cold?”

“I did back then. I mean not ice cold, but you didn’t give me the warm and fuzzy fatherly type vibes either.”

“Your memories and mine are vastly different,” he grunted as he looked back the screen, took a breath and hit play. He had the video on full screen so he could see every nuance of what Grady was capturing with his phone and true to his prediction, by the end of the video, of the children being born and whisked away to be weighed he had tears streaming down his face.

Bobbie sat staring at him incredulously. He was unashamed of his feelings. He moved to the second video. It was the video where they had put Ollie in her arms and Bobbie had immediately started crying and without mistake sobbed his name and Grady jumped on it. She watched him watch her recover from her error and name their daughter on the spot after him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head backward against the headboard.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly as his breath was uneven and he appeared unable to control his emotions.

He said nothing as he got off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, tossing his dinner in a garbage can on the way. It was silent in the bathroom and then Bobbie jumped when what she could only call a guttural rageful shout echoed from behind the closed door followed by the crash of glass splintering.

She raced off the bed and shoved the bathroom door open, “Olivier, what are you doing?”

“I’ll kill him,” he whispered looking down at the sink, his knuckles as white as the marble he gripped and trails of b***d sluicing into the basin.

She looked at the mirror and saw he had obviously punched it. She reached for a towel and immediately began examining his knuckles for shards of glass and pulling one sliver from the webbing between his index and forefinger. “Oh Olivier, you can’t just go around punching mirrors.” She pushed his hand under running cold water. “I think you need stitches.”

“It’s fine,” his voice was hoarse. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“It’s bleeding badly,” she dug around the bathroom looking for something to patch him up with.

“I should have been there,” he said as he watched his b***d mix with the water and disappear into down the drain. “Because of Bernard Menard, I missed watching the birth of my children in person. You needed me and I was not there and instead a stranger and his wife bore witness to what should have been our memory. I’ll kill him.”

His voice was frigid, and Bobbie turned back from where she was digging to cup his cheek and forcing him to look at her, “hey, there’s the cold thing I was talking about earlier.”

“He’s going to pay.” He didn’t back down from her accusation. “He’s going to wish he’d never f****d with me.”

“Fine, do whatever you need to do but leave me and the kids out of it.” She walked away from him and headed back to the bedroom, grimacing when she noted she had spilled her food all over the bed in her haste to rush to him. She began pulling everything off the bed and tossed her own dinner into the garbage. She ripped the duvet off the bed after setting the laptop and her cell phone on the nightstand and tossed it to the floor in the corner of the room. She found herself feeling overwhelmed with her own emotions and knew Olivier would have a fully stocked bar.

She left the bedroom and moved back to the main living area and found a tumbler and a bottle of bourbon and poured herself a couple of fingers and pushed the patio doors open and stepped outside. It was later than she had thought, the darkness of the late evening punctuated by the city lights. She closed her eyes and found herself wondering what the kids were doing. Hopefully, they were having fun and not giving Everly and Grady too much of a hard time. Considering they had been up until nearly eleven the night before and then had a full day; it was quite possible they were already asleep. She sipped her drink and ignored Olivier calling her name.

“Bobbie,” he spoke quietly as he stepped into the patio. “I apologize.”

“You can’t go around punching things, Olivier. It’s bad enough I have Ollie doing it all the time and I admit Everly and Lark wind her up and it’s hard enough to get her under control but if she sees you being violent, it’s going to give her incentive to keep going on the path she’s on.”

“I don’t normally go around punching things,” he made a face and reached out for her glass and took a sip. “Usually, I have Henri or Riggs do it for me.” At her grimace he chuckled, “what’s the point of being stupidly rich if I can’t pay people to do my dirty work.”

“Really though, are you a mob boss?”

He threw his head back and laughed, “no. According to my parents I’m a genius. According to Forbes, I’m a financial savant with extraordinary business acumen. According to my sisters though, I’m just Olivier the nerd who likes watching numbers.”

“Nerd?” she giggled at the description.

“My father gave each of his children money on our eighteenth birthday. Twenty-five thousand. My sisters bought cars. I invested it and by my nineteenth birthday I was a millionaire. By twenty-five I was significantly richer than that.”

“You were twenty-eight when we met.”

“I was far wealthier at twenty-eight than twenty-five,” he grinned.

She shook her head at the cocky smirk, “anyone who sees you next to Ollie when you smirk is going to know she’s yours. It’s like a copycat version.”

“I know. When she said a*s in the elevator last evening it was as if peering into a mirror. She’s, my double. Max too but his hair is dark.”

She made a face, “my hair is not naturally blonde.”

“I’m aware,” he looked down past her waist and laughed when she smacked him. He lifted his arm and draped it over her shoulder, “come, I will let you patch me up better. I’m certain we can replace something in the bathroom.”

“Sure. I can help but I do think you need stitches.”

“There might be a sewing kit,” he laughed as she wrinkled her nose in disgust, “then we’ll have to settle for bandages and tape. I do not wish to leave this suite. I have many videos and photos I want to look at.”

As far as reasons to stay in the room, looking at photos of the children he didn’t know was as good of one as any.

As if feeling her hesitation, he dropped a k**s to the top of her head and vowed, “I promise to be better.”

“Okay,” she rested her head against his shoulder, “but you need to bring the bottle of bourbon. It’s fantastic and you drank all of mine.”

“Deal.”

Bobbie wondered what it said of her psyche if she was excited to be making a deal with the man who had haunted her nightmares for so long. It probably wasn’t good but as she watched him grab a phone to call down for clean bedding, she realized, in this moment, she didn’t care.