Naked Affair (Erotic Romance Bundle) Read online

  Naked Affair

  Erotic Romance Bundle

  Dalia Daudelin

  Are you obsessed with erotica and romance?

  Do you love reading about hot men falling madly in love with feisty women?

  Sign up for our EROTIC ROMANCE CLUB now, and you'll never miss another yummy release!

  CLICK HERE! YOU WON'T REGRET IT!

  http://midnightclimaxpublishing.com

  Scandal: The Rise and Fall of the Birchmier Brothers

  “Willow?”

  Glancing up from the monstrous pile of papers on my desk, I can't help but be annoyed. Christian Birchmier, one of the heirs to his father's billion dollar entertainment company, looms over me. He's the one who gave me all the work, and now he's come to bother me?

  I nearly snap at him, but there's some odd emotion on his face that halts me. It seems calm on the surface, but all of his muscles are just a tiny bit too tight. Something's wrong.

  “Yes, Mr. Birchmier?” I smile, lifting my chin instinctively. I have made a point to always have him see me from my best angles, and never with my chin pressed into my neck. A powerful man like Christian wouldn't dare keep an ugly woman on staff in this city. There's simply too many models looking for a stable job to allow that.

  I am beyond lucky to have this position, even if I am just a personal assistant. I do everything I can to keep it. Hell, when he called me after our interview and told me I got the job, I sobbed into my pillow for nearly a half hour. It's like winning the lottery!

  “Can you come into my office for a second? We need to discuss something.” He slips back through his heavy wooden door, leaving it open for me to join him.

  Standing up from my desk, I pause for just a second. Deep breaths. In, out. In, out. I don't know what could possibly be wrong, but that look on his face seemed to spell disaster for someone. I need to stay calm or I could make things worse. Here's hoping I just made a mistake on a budget form.

  I step into his office and breathe in the sweet scent of the vanilla candle he burns every morning while he drinks his coffee. It's an odd ritual for a young man, but it's one I've come to enjoy.

  “Look,” he starts, leaning against his desk. His hair is brushed back and dyed black, probably recently too. In one of his hands is his electronic tablet, the one he takes with him everywhere he goes. The one time he left it in his office after going home he practically begged me to bring it to him.

  He sighs, closing his eyes and bringing his fingers up to pinch his nose. A headache, no doubt. They're unfortunately common for him. “You know we have an image we need to keep up. We can't let our employees have public racy photos or talk about politics or drugs, things like that. It's just company policy.”

  I nod my head emphatically. Luckily, I have nothing like that out there, so it looks like this is about someone else. “I know that, Mr. Birchmier.”

  Christian holds out his tablet for me to see. The screen has a photo of some woman. Her tits are out and her vagina is stuff with some unknown man's cock.

  Oh shit, hang on! That's me!

  Was this taken on my birthday? I examine the photo and try to remember that night. I went home to celebrate with my friends and we all got way more drunk than we expected. I know I slept with someone that night, but I have no idea who.

  “Oh my god! How did you get this?”

  “It was emailed to me. It came with a threat. I either fire you, or the photos go public.”

  My head spins. I need to sit down but there's no chair near me, so I fall unceremoniously to the floor and let my head fall into my hands. “I'm going to throw up,” I groan.

  Christian kneels down next to me and places his hand on my back. The gesture seems hollow and distant, more of an insult than soothing. “I'm not going to let these photos get out, for a number of reasons. But that means...” He trails off.

  He only hired me three months ago, and we never really hit it off. He doesn't care at all what happens to me.

  “So I'm fired.” The words feel like acid in my mouth. “Email me that photo.” I'm going to find out who that asshole is, and I'm going to make him regret ruining my life. I'll break his knees. I'll tie him to a car and sink it in the ocean. I'll-

  “I promise to write you a great recommendation, but I need you to leave immediately.”

  I stand ip, though I'm numb. I don't remember packing up my things in a box, and only really notice that I'm awake at all once I'm standing out on the cold New York street. With a sigh, I walk home.

  A week's worth of newspapers litter my kitchen table and desk. No one's hiring, and my bank account is already getting too small for my tastes. With a cup of coffee in my hand and tired eyes, I look out at the sunrise and let my mind wander.

  “Maybe it's time to just move back home.” Thinking about going three states away from the most exciting place in America sets my teeth on edge.

  Fuck this, I don't want to think about this right now. I put down my coffee and grab my bag of dirty laundry. Can't get a job without clean clothes anyway.

  Even though it's still early, New York is never quiet. On the street I brush past hundreds of people, each on heading to their jobs dressed in the best suits and dresses money can buy. They must look so odd next to me in my sweatpants and dirty t-shirt.

  The laundromat is a small one owned by a cute Japanese woman. She and her son work together to keep it open 24 hours. Someone already has two units in use, though no one is watching the clothes tumble in the drier. I take two of the units on the opposite wall and stuff all of my clothes into the machines without bothering to separate anything.

  I'm on my third game of sudoku on my phone when the driers on the other wall buzz and the door to the laundromat opens dramatically. In walks one of the handsomest men in the world. His blazer is tailored to fit him and show off his thin but manly waist. In fact, his jeans must be tailored too. His hair is slicked back, making it look wet and giving him a very classic appearance.

  Something about him seems familiar, but I can't quite tell what. His dark skin tells the story of weeks in the sun, or maybe hours in a tanning booth.

  “Hello there,” he says, smiling at me. His teeth are so straight and so white. Maybe he's a male model? He must have noticed that I was staring, but he probably gets that all the time. Blushing, I look down and smile. “I've never seen you in here before, beautiful.”

  “I usually come in the afternoon.” I fiddle with my blonde hair while looking at the floor.

  “Ah. What prompted the change?” He folds his boxers in front of me, forcing me to blush an even hotter shade of red.

  “I was fired for the most idiotic reason in the world, and now I need to clean my interview clothes.”

  “That sucks! Who were you working for?” The man looks genuinely concerned. God, why does he look so familiar?

  “Birchmier and Sons. Mostly one of the sons. I've never met the other one, though.”

  Something changes in his face. “No way.” He shakes his head, and then lets out an incredulous laugh. “Would you believe me if I told you I was the other son?”

  I laugh, but the sound is uglier than I'd like. I'm being rude. “Why would a Birchmier son be doing his own laundry in a small laundromat like this?”

  Throwing down his boxers, he pulls out his wallet and flips his ID to me. “Probably because I was caught being inappropriate and was taken out of the will and my job.”

  There's his name, right there, on the laminated card. Jordan Birchmier, Jr. The son of Jordan Birchmier, the owner of Birchmier and Sons.

  “Holy shit,”

  “So, why were you fired?” He takes his ID back and goes back to folding. At least now
I know why he looked so familiar.

  Do I really want to tell him why I was fired? Hell, I haven't told anyone, yet. I've just been stewing in my anger for days. “Because some prick sent him photos of me having drunken sex. He threatened your brother and got me fired!”

  Jordan reels back in horror. “That's awful! And Christian actually gave into that?”

  I nod, fighting back hot tears now.

  “What a pig.” Jordan comes and sits next to me. He doesn't touch me or hug me, he just sits down next to me as a sign of solidarity until I calm down and wipe away stubborn tears.

  “What if I said I know how to get back at him?”

  My eyes flick up and lock onto his. They're the same bright blue color that Chrstian has, stunning and clear. Somehow, though, they look more innocent than Christian's eyes. “I'm not looking for revenge,” I say. It doesn't even sound honest to me.

  “Look, it's expensive living in this city. If you help me get revenge on my brother, I'll pay you 10 grand a month. That's enough to keep you in your apartment, right?”

  I eye him suspiciously. A stubborn strand of his black hair has come loose and lays against his forehead now. There has to be a catch. “I'm waiting to hear your plan before I promise anything.”

  Jordan sighs, then laughs. “Yeah, that's understandable. I don't want to discuss it here, though. I'll help you get home and we can discuss it in your apartment, if you'd like.”

  “Fine,” I reply. I don't know if I want him seeing where I live, but not having to walk home with my laundry sounds like a good deal. Plus, the idea of getting revenge on Christian is starting to excite me. Plus, being paid that much will let me devote my time to finding out who took that photo.

  The rest of the time at the laundromat and in the car was spent talking about ourselves. I learned that Jordan went into publishing after he was taken out of the will. I want to ask him what exactly he did, but he's kept my quiet as he dished about some of the most famous authors in the world.

  He asked questions about me, too. I told him about my parents, and how I come from a poor home. My mom had to go back to work to pay for college, which is why it was so important to keep my job at Birchmier and Sons. I want to pay her back.

  “I see,” Jordan says. “I think what I pay you will let you do that, especially if you find another job on top of it.” He grins at me after parking, as if we're old friends. I can't help but smile back. Jordan isn't like his brother. Where Christian is distant and a bit mean, Jordan is warm and kind.

  A wave of embarrassment hits me as I press my key into my door. “I know you must think I'm a slut for having drunk sex like that.” My hair slips over my shoulder and hides my face.

  “No way. You're a modern woman, and you have every right to have sex with whoever you want!”

  Hearing those words sends a surge of confidence through me. I look up at Jordan and feel my heart swell. Now, now, Willow, this is just a business arrangement. Jordan doesn't want to date me.

  It would be nice to be friends with him, though.

  I stand up taller as we walk through my door and into my messy apartment. Knowing that at least one person doesn't think I'm a slut makes it so I don't even care how the main room looks. I think I really like Jordan, but I remind myself not to get my hopes up. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, water?”

  “I won't be here too long, I have a meeting in an hour. Let's talk.”

  Jordan sits down at the kitchen table. I take a second to ball up all the newspapers and throw them away before sitting down next to him.

  “So... what did you do, anyway? To be taken out of the will, I mean.”

  An odd look washes over his face, but then it's gone so fast I'm not sure it wasn't just my imagination. “Ah, well. That's actually related to my plan.”

  “Oh,” I answer. I don't know if I like the sound of that.

  “See, I was young and I was in a serious relationship. I was engaged, in fact, to my high school sweetheart. I was also incredibly stupid and broke her heart. I fell in love with another woman, one that had no intention of staying with me. She was bright and beautiful and told me all the things an insecure young man wants to hear.” He pauses and picks at a scratch in my table. “I was caught with her on camera. Christian was the one who set up the camera and took it to my father. By that same night I was banished from the family and forced to remake myself from scratch.”

  We both sit in silence. I think I see what he's getting at.

  “I know it's a lot to ask. If you say no, I won't hold it against you.”

  Anger at the injustice of my situation already weighed heavily on me. Added the evil done to Jordan only made it worse. “No, I'll do it. What's the plan?” I'm willing to do anything, absolutely anything, to get revenge against Christian for treating people so coldly. Even if that means using my body as a weapon.

  “Well, Christian is having a Halloween party very soon. Hundreds of people will be invited, including one of my friends. She'll take you as her guest. From there it's up to you to seduce him.”

  “Why would he let me seduce him?” I ask. “I'm not very pretty, and even worse he hates my guts!”

  “First of all, Willow, you are gorgeous.” Jordan leans in and slides a hand on my thigh. It sends a hot sensation up my leg and to my crotch. My breathing becomes erratic. “Secondly, it's a costume party. Wear a mask and you'll just be another one of the women, especially since I know he'll be drunk.”

  I say nothing. I can't move my lips at all. His hand is still on my thigh.

  Jordan pulls back and takes his phone out of his pocket. “Take down this number. My friend's name is Julie. I'll call her and tell her what we're planning, and she'll pick you up at 10 on Saturday. Be ready for her.”

  He gives me the number before standing up and smoothing down his blazer. Taking my hand, he helps me out of my chair and bends over to kiss my hand. I can still feel the warmth of his soft lips on my skin well after he's left my apartment.

  I have always wanted to be beautiful. Like, truly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that the world revolves around. Instead, I ended up with a few too many freckles and hair that can't decide if it's blonde or brown. My nose is alright and I like my eyes, but my face is too round and I don't even want to talk about my hips and waist.

  Still, I do what I do what I can with what I learned from my mom. She's been talented with makeup and taught me since my first ballet recital how to accentuate the good and downplay the bad. A thin stroke of dark brown eyeliner, some small but thick fake eyelashes, the tiniest bit of blush and I look almost passable.

  The finishing touch, and the only thing anyone will even see tonight with my mask on, is bright red lipstick. I normally go for a more natural look, but tonight I don't want to be normal. Tonight I'm a femme fatale.

  My phone buzzes on my vanity. It's a text from Julie.

  “Be there in 5.”

  I scramble to throw some money and other things in the special purse that showed up in my mailbox two days ago. At first I was confused, but then I found the hidden pocket in the bottom that housed a camera. Jordan must be some kind of genius.

  There's a buzz letting me know that Julie's at the door just as I slip on my rabbit mask and straighten my black dress. The little puff of a tail on my behind wiggles as I walk to greet her.

  “Oh, wow! Jordan said you were hot, but I didn't expect you to be this hot! Great costume.” Julie is a thin and petite Latina with golden skin. Her dark brown hair falls in ringlets which are tamed by a tiara on her head. She's wearing the classiest fairy costume I have ever seen.

  “Yours is way better! Where did you find that?”

  “Oh, I made it! I'm a fashion designer.”

  My eyebrows rise as far as they can go. “Oh!” That's all I can muster. The lives of billionaires are so full of interesting people. Even just a taste of it leaves me baffled.

  The party is only a few blocks away, which makes the drive in Julie's hot red convertible
painfully short. I could get used to living a life of luxury like this, blasting pop music with wind blowing through my hair.

  When we arrive, all I can do is look up at the huge building in front of me. It's one of the most famous hotels in the entire city, lit up and thumping with music. Julie sees me staring at the tall building and chuckles. “Christian rents out the whole building every Halloween. He does it so we don't bother any real people with our antics. Come on, let's go inside.”

  I don't know what I was expecting before stepping into the lobby of the hotel. Maybe cheesy decorations and “spooky” music playing on repeat, a makeshift haunted room here or there. No, what I step into when I'm ushered through these big doors is a fantasy world full of twirling bright colors. Each person is wearing the classiest, showiest costume they could find. Sequins, feathers and confetti rest gently on each person. It's in their hair and on their skin and coating the floor.

  The loud music isn't crappy Halloween music, either. It's the kind of remixes and dance music that you expect to hear in a movie soundtrack, each tune upbeat and catchy. As Julie leads me through the crowd and into the main ballroom, I find my body moving to the beat naturally.

  There, below the hanging chandelier, are thousands of men and women dancing the demons out of their body. I recognize a few of the celebrities, the movie stars and the singers that litter every magazine and TV screen. For a moment I'm starstruck, but I'm pulled along too fast for it to really sink in.

  Julie grabs the nearest glass of champagne and hands it to me. “Drink up and have fun. Just because you're here for a reason doesn't mean you shouldn't enjoy it.”

  As she pounds her own glass, I watch her amazed at her grace even as she fills herself with alcohol. Everyone in this room with me is probably more drunk and more high than I've ever been. I tip my head back and drink my glass with resolve. I need to fit in.

  Before I know it I'm on the dance floor with my new friend, grinding against her body and the bodies of anyone else nearby. There's no harm in having some fun, right?