Controlled By The Billionaire

In one abrupt movement he let go of her chin and stood back up to his full height. Mel almost fell over because she was leaning against him. If Tristan hadn’t reached out and steadied her with his hand she would have fell face first into the hardwood floor.

“I guess the eyes don’t lie.” Tristan smirked and Mel’s face heated.

She didn’t answer him, too embarrassed by the way her body had responded to his minimal touch. He clearly thought it was funny and was playing with her and Mel wondered if this wasn’t the kind of demeaning relationship he was after. Anger suddenly filled her chest, making it ache. Lost was the feeling of lust that had momentarily inebriated her. It was replaced instead by righteous indignation. How dare he think that just because she was beneath him he could treat her like this?

“I’d like to leave now,” She said, shaking with rage.

Tristan’s face went blank again, all signs of teasing and laughter gone. “Very well. I’ll call for Bernard.”

Tristan walked away and Mel stood by the front door in the foyer, her arms wrapped protectively around her chest. This did not go well. Second thoughts about signing that deal were filling her head and Mel just wanted to go home.

*****

Tristan’s jaw ticked with rage as he headed out to the garage.

“Bernard, please take the girl home so I don’t have to look at her anymore,” Tristan barked his mood suddenly sour.

Why did she have to play games with him? If she had spoken up and asked him what she was doing in his home he would have told her and he wouldn’t have played back. Nothing made him angrier than people who were always beating around the bush. He also didn’t like how the look of shock and embarrassment on Mel’s face made him feel. He repeated to himself again how he didn’t do guilt and walked back towards the main house to hide in his study. Her presence in the foyer haunted him as he crept under the staircase and down the back hall opposite the kitchen. He could see her with her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if warding off danger. Tristan almost snorted. Wasn’t that the truth? Men like Tristan were dangerous because they didn’t feel and didn’t want to feel and Mel Fairbanks better get used to it or she would never make it through to the end of their deal.

Once in his study Tristan relaxed against the closed door, breathing in and out of his nose deeply. His study was his solace. The place where memories of the places he had been and the things he had endured didn’t haunt him. Sometimes he would spend days in here, only coming out to eat since he had a bathroom in the back of the room. Since he met Mel he had been retreating to his study a lot more than usual. Not wanting to explore what that meant, Tristan sat in his soft leather chair and leaned back closing his eyes. He didn’t have time to think about that right now. Taking a deep breath, Tristan put Mel out of his mind and imagined something relaxing. Picking his head up, he smiled. Now he was centered and Mel Fairbanks wasn’t troubling his mind any longer.

*****

Mel promised herself she wouldn’t cry on the way home. Not over a jerk who clearly seemed to get off on playing games with her mind. Releasing a large breath, Mel relaxed her head back against the seat back, looking out the window at the Southern California sky. Out here, away from the city, the stars were brighter and Mel felt the lump in her throat rise again as she thought about not being able to share nights like this with someone she loved. Blake was the only person she really had. Blake’s family was her last and final foster family.

Mel remembered being wary and frightened when they moved her in the middle of the night from the previous house when social services found out how the family was abusing the children. Fresh out of an abusive household, one in which she had spent six months, Mel wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived at the next family’s house. The social worker essentially left her at the door with her bag of things and then drove away. Mel remembered being close to tears when Blake’s father opened the front door. She cowered away from his hand when he tried to lead her inside and the look of anger on his face made her even more frightened. Mel didn’t learn until a lot later that he was angry at the previous foster family for scaring, and scarring, her so badly. That first night was hell. Mel spent the good bit of it wide awake and staring at the door in case the father came back.

When she woke, it wasn’t the father who came through the door however; it was a bouncy red head about her age, a year younger to be exact. For weeks Blake tried to coax Mel out of her shell. Starting a new school and having a new family all in a matter of two days was hard on Mel, especially since it was her first year of high school. All these years later she was grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Talley for bring her into their home, giving her a forever friend and getting her the help she needed to deal with her past. She couldn’t bring herself to call them mom and dad, but they were the next best thing.

“We’re here, Ms. Fairbanks,” Bernard said in his feeble old man voice as they stopped at the curb.

Mel started a bit, so lost in memories that she forgot where she was. Thanking Bernard, Mel stepped from the limo, digging in her purse for her keys. Pushing her apartment door opened, Mel frowned. It wasn’t a mansion but it was home. She kicked her shoes off and climbed into bed, unsure what the next few weeks would bring with Tristan and anxious to begin recording her record.

At least I have something positive to look forward to, Mel thought as she drifted to sleep.

*****

The next week rolled around and Mel felt those same jitters in her belly as she approached the Powers Records floor in the elevator. She took several deep breaths, willing her heart to slow and her stomach to stop churning. The nerves weren’t so much about recording her album as they were about seeing Tristan. He was unpredictable and she wasn’t sure what he would do or say while she was there. Facing him again after what happened last week made Mel’s stomach lurch and the coffee she had on the drive over almost came back up. It was a good thing she couldn’t eat when she was nervous otherwise she would have vomited on her way up the elevator. The doors to the elevator opened with a ding and Mel stepped off, rubbing her sweating hands on her skirt.

“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself as she opened the doors and stepped inside.

The receptionist greeted her with a big smile, remembering her from the previous week. She pointed Mel down the opposite hallway of where she went with Tristan and somehow that made her stomach settle a bit. Shifting her guitar case from one shoulder to the other, Mel pulled the door to the recording booth open and stepped inside and right into a brick wall.

“Oof,” Mel grunted and began to fall backwards, the weight of her guitar case pulling her petite body down as she stumbled back.

“Woah,” a male voice, a voice that she knew, said. It was Tristan.

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her upright and against his chest. Mel put her hands in front of her, and splayed them on his chest to push away from him. She ignored the feel of hard muscle against her hands and tried to release herself from his grasp.