Controlled By The Billionaire

“Mr. Powers,” Tristan turned, his fake smile in place and his hand out ready to shake. He never had enough investors and making the right contacts kept his company relevant.

It was time to schmooze and he wouldn’t give that woman another thought, even if her ass in that short skirt made his di*k stir. Watching her move away from the bar from the corner of his eye as he talked shop with a possible investor, Tristan decided to keep an eye on her for the rest of the night. She may be worth bringing home for some fun even if she had no talent.

*****

Mel’s feet were on fire by the time she and Blake started cleaning up the mess left behind as the people began to stream out of the party. There were still a few rather drunk individuals lounging by the pool, ordering drink after drink with no end in sight. Mel was told the party was only until midnight. It was currently quarter to two in the morning and people were still partying. It didn’t matter that the DJ had left an hour ago or that they were closing down the bar.

Rich people just don’t know when to pack it in, Mel thought slipping her wedge sandal off and rubbing her aching arches.

“I thought this thing ended at twelve,” Blake mumbled. She gathered several empty cups and tossed them into the trash can which they were laying right next to.

Mel shrugged. “I was told the same by the catering company. Does that mean we can leave?” She slipped her sandal back on and smoothed her skirt back down.

Blake returned the shrug and continued to clean up the bar area. They weren’t technically supposed to clean up afterwards, but Mel and Blake always made a point to clean up the area where they worked. The clients liked it and in return would request them to do parties.

“So is this Tristan’s house?” Blake asked as they threw their last empty liquor bottle into a recycling bin behind the property.

“I’m not sure. It didn’t say. Could be a place the label rented just for the party.”

Mel and Blake wandered back towards the bar area to retrieve their jackets and purses before making their way through the small crowd to the back gate to exit the yard. Mel looked back. It wasn’t like any yard she had ever seen before. It had to be at least two acres, one of which was taken up by a large salt water pool and gigantic patio where the party was held. Living in a place like that had always been Mel’s dream; one that she thought may come true if she could get a record deal. Sighing, she realized that it was likely a pipe dream. Digging in her purse for her phone and key’s Mel realized that something was missing.

“Sh*t, I forgot my phone. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Mel said to Blake as they reached the rear of the yard.

Blake nodded, and Mel took off back towards the bar as fast as she could with her heels. All she wanted was to go home and take a hot shower and go to bed; crying herself to sleep sounded really great right about now.

“There you are my little brown goddess.” Mel turned as a pair of man’s hands encircled her waist.

She was face to face with the sleazy drunk man from earlier and he was even drunker.

“I’m leaving, please let me go.” Mel pleaded with him as he pulled her back under one of the cabana tents that were set up around the patio, tossing her on a chaise in the middle of it.

“I don’t think so,” he slurred. The man’s breath reeked of alcohol.

Mel lay still on the chaise, looking around for a way to get out of the cabana. There was only one way in or out; the way she came in, and the man was blocking the exit. The man leered at her, moving closer. Mel looked around again frantically but there was no way out. She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to watch the man assault her. This night was not ending at all the way she pictured it.

*****

Tristan heard a woman scream from inside of one of the cabanas on the patio. He looked around. There weren’t many guests left and those that were left were wasted. Sighing with irritation, Tristan waved the butler over. Of course he couldn’t count on rich brats to get themselves out of his home by the appointed hour. They never wanted to stop partying.

“Bernard, can you please round up the stragglers and throw them the hell off of my property?” Bernard nodded and Tristan moved down away from the mansion and towards the cabana in which he heard the screams.

It didn’t appear anyone was down there, but he figured he would check anyway to be sure. People thought he was a cold hearted bas*ard but a woman being assaulted on his property when he could have stopped it would eat at him. Speeding up a bit, Tristan rounded the corner of the cabana only to find Stewart Latham, the accountant for the record label, piss drunk and advancing on a woman on the chaise. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw him approaching and she mouthed ‘please help me’.

“Stewart, what’s the meaning of this?” Tristan said loudly.

Stewart turned, his eyes wide. “Um, I was just… Damn.” Stewart backed up looking sheepish.

“How about you leave the lady alone, Stewart. Walk it off and then leave or you won’t have a job come Monday morning.”

Stewart’s eyes widened even more, making him look like an owl. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, miss. I forgot my manners.” He turned and ran off looking extremely sober.

The woman stood up slowly, and that’s when he realized it was the Fairbanks woman. Looked like he would have to talk to her after all.