Controlled By The Billionaire

Chapter 4

Mel could feel his pec muscles through his thin white button up.

Mel arranged herself, smoothing her skirt and hair and pulling the straps of her bra and cami back into place. She couldn’t look at Tristan, she was too embarrassed. Mel never lost control like that and it made her feel like a fool for falling for his games again. The doors slid open just as Mel smoothed her clothing and hair one last time. She wasn’t sure if she should get off first or wait for Tristan to go first. Tristan breezed by her a moment later answering her question. He didn’t look back just kept moving towards the door, adjusting his tie as he went. Mel frowned deeply, her first reaction was embarrassment and Tristan’s seemed to be anger. An uncomfortable lump settled in her stomach. His reaction left her a bit unsettled especially considering the deal they had. Sighing at her predicament, Mel stepped from the elevator, hurrying to keep up with Tristan. What had she been thinking?

*****

Tristan scowled as he heard the clack of Mel’s sandals as she approached him from behind. What was he thinking to start something like that in the elevator? Shaking his head he slowed, figuring he should wait for her since he did ask her to lunch.

“Hey,” she said behind him, a little out of breath from trying to keep up.

Mel was tiny, petite, and her short legs must have had to work a lot harder than his did to cover two city blocks in two minutes. He suddenly felt like an ass, which just pissed him off even more.

“This is the place.” Tristan motioned toward the door with his hand and pulled the door open for her, waving her in ahead of him.

This morning he was amicable with her, figuring he shouldn’t worry so much about feelings; hers or his. After he heard her sing, something deep inside of him, without his consent, reacted to her words. They made him feel things he’d repressed years ago. The hurt of his parent’s abandonment, the pain of growing up without a family or home of his own and other memories that Tristan had pushed down so far he was hoping they never saw the light of day ever again. Mel was different than any woman he had ever met. She was shy and naïve but also strong with a dark past; just as he had. Something about the way she sang, and the words to her songs, made Tristan throw caution to the wind and kiss her in that elevator. It was a stupid move. Anyone could have seen them if she hadn’t had the peace of mind to stop them.

Once in the café, Tristan led Mel to a table in the back. They sat down, Mel awkwardly folding and unfolding her cloth napkin in her lap. Tristan watched her for a moment as she stared off into space, to the left of where they sat. Her caramel colored skin was shining in the mid day sun that streamed through the window. She looked younger than twenty five and had Tristan not known her true age he would have believed she wasn’t a day over eighteen. Her brown eyes were shining too, almost as if they had tears in them. Tristan grimaced at the feeling of tightness in his chest at the idea of her crying. No guilt, no feelings. Tristan repeated it a few times in his head for effect. The waitress came over just in time before Tristan said something stupid.

“What can I get the two of you?” She asked, her pen poised over her notepad.

Tristan ordered for them, two soups, two salads and two teas. The waitress tried to flirt with him but Tristan ignored her, instead waving her away dismissively when he was done ordering. The movement wasn’t lost on Mel and he caught her frowning out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ve never said I was a nice guy,” Tristan said. He may as well clear the air now about who he was.

“I’m sorry?” Mel said as if she didn’t hear what he said.

The look in her eyes let him know that she did. “I’m not a nice guy,” he repeated, emphasizing the word nice.

“Right.” Mel answered curtly, turning her body slightly away from his to look out the window on the right.

Tristan followed the line of her neck all the way to where her cream colored, lace topped camisole emphasized the small swell of her bre*st beneath it. His pants began to tighten as he remembered how she tasted. Tristan didn’t like his emotions, including lust, to get out of control when he was in public. For some reason Mel got to him and he wasn’t sure if he should null their original deal or see how it played out.

Several minutes later the food came and they ate in relative silence besides a few moments of small talk before the waitress came with the check.

 “It’s on me.” Tristan slapped his card down on top of the check.

Mel nodded, a strange look on her face. He knew he was arrogant but going from a poor, skinny kid who was abandoned by his parents to become one of the most powerful men in the music industry, Tristan was proud of his wealth and how he made it on his own. Minutes later they were back out on the sidewalk in the warm June sun.

“I have to work. I’ll see you later.” Mel gave him a backwards wave as she turned and headed in the opposite direction.

Tristan sighed, he’d have to change his attitude whether he liked it or not.

*****

The bar was busy that night. Mel had changed out of her long, flowy dress into a pair of tight jean shorts several hours ago. Flowy ‘hippie’ dresses, as Blake called them, didn’t bring in the tips. Apparently booty shorts did. Taking a five minute break from the bar’s chaos, Mel looked at her profile in the mirror of the ladies room one last time. She was short, so the wedge sandals she wore were a necessity in making her legs look longer. Besides being on the ‘petite’ side, Mel was happy with her body shape. A round ass and thick thighs were topped off with a tiny waist and small perky bre*sts. She liked what she saw; unlike Blake, who was a size eight and five inches taller than Mel. Shaking her head at Blake’s body image issues, Mel stepped from the bathroom and into someone’s chest. It was Tristan. Why was it always Tristan?