Bossed by the Billionaire

Chapter 5 – Alyssa

Dinner with Julian has a completely different air from last night. The décor of the restaurant isn’t as sultry, the food isn’t as sumptuous. The only thing that remains as wonderful as the night before is how good Julian Marcus looks in his business suit.

I avoided him for much of the afternoon, which was easy enough since he had meetings and Vern trained me to use the executive office network. I had to avoid Julian. Because every time I saw him, I suffered such a mixture of anger and lust that I barely recognized myself anymore.

Suppose it was good for me, though. I needed to ground my mind, heart, and loins from the high they had experienced for the past few days. Julian Marcus is not my boyfriend, no matter what he says. He’s got some twisted ideas about dating if he’s presenting me with a nebulously legal contract stipulating the major points of our “relationship.”

You heard me! He presents me with a contract!

At least nothing’s been left out. The first half is an HR-approved job contract detailing my administrative role in Bradley & Marcus. Standard stuff, like my insurance, other benefits, rate of pay, and the general expectations of my job (and what I’m not allowed to do, both by law and the rules already laid out by Bradley & Marcus.) This is something they could’ve gone over with me at the office, but the reason I’m seeing it now in private is because of the second half of our contract.

Julian has gone out of his way to detail every aspect of our relationship.

To be fair, he’s offered many concessions so I can stay on top of my schoolwork and I guess have my own personal life (not that I had much of one to begin with. Between school and work I could only go out with friends maybe once every other week.) My mornings, regardless of whether I wake up at his place or not, are mostly mine. When my job starts in the afternoon, however, I’m his. Almost literally.

I keep my expression neutral and my anger checked as I read over the contract in silence. Julian gets up to use the bathroom, confer with the maître d’, order another bottle of wine, and shoot the breeze for five minutes with someone else in a nice suit. When he returns, I’ve read through most of the contract and consumed another glass of wine. I needed it.

How many women have been in this position before? I honestly want to know. This is beyond some sugar baby and sugar daddy shit. I mean, he’s only paying me for my actual job. I don’t get some million-dollar bonus for sticking it out. I do, however, get a lot of financial benefits like free trips in his private jet, luxurious dinners like this one, a shopping budget so I can deck myself out in the finery of a billionaire’s main squeeze, and he’s silently agreed to help me cover my living expenses so I can save my paychecks. This means my rent, utilities, and even my grocery budget are covered.

I’m no longer expected to take Trimet, since I have access to his car and driver whenever I need to get around. Screw that, I’m still getting next month’s pass. I don’t know how long this is going to last.

If there’s anything this contract makes clear, it’s that any “relationship” we have is purely about sex and his image. I get to be his public lover, and I suppose I have to play the part of a real girlfriend when we go to functions, but behind closed doors I don’t expect him to be a loving, caring boyfriend. He wants me for sex. Good sex, I hope. From some of the things written in weird jargon, he wants some kink, too. As long as I feel that I can get out of it if I’m uncomfortable, I’m fine with it.

That’s what my logical side tells me. But I also know that, aside from relationships that lasted up to a few months when I was in high school and in undergrad, I don’t have a lot of relationship experiences. What I think might be fine right now may very well turn into something that breaks my heart later on.

But I can’t think like that. Especially when Julian asks me if I made it to the end yet. I nod, flipping the contract shut. I haven’t signed it yet, although I see his fresh signature at the bottom of the page.

“Compelling stuff, Mr. Marcus.”

“If you have any issues with it, tell me now. I’d like to get it fixed up before we move on with our relationship. Particularly by this weekend. I’m taking you to the wedding mixer on Saturday. I want to make sure we fall exactly in line with one another. No surprises.”

“I can agree with that.” I want Julian fully on my side if he’s taking me to meet his folks – his folks, damnit! Even if it means a bit of a performance on my end. I can do that.

This isn’t about love. It’s about constructing a mutually beneficial relationship between two consenting adults.

“My brother’s wedding mixer is the next biggest event before his bachelor party next month. Then his actual wedding. After that, we can stop caring.”

I would laugh at how effortlessly he says that, but I don’t want to be rude. “I’m fine with going to all of those if you want me to, sir.”

“I do. That said, I’m having Vern arrange for you to be fitted for appropriate clothing. My mother especially would expect any woman I date to only exhibit the most flawless tastes. My mother is an otherwise insufferable woman, so if we can please her on that front, it’s worth the hassle.”

No idea what to say to that, either. Sounds like a blast.

“First impressions are everything in my family.”

I don’t doubt that’s where he learned it from. The only other thing I know about Julian’s family dynamics is that he has an older brother named Edwin who runs the Marcus family business. The pictures I briefly Googled spoke of an older, more rugged version of Julian who already has salt and pepper in his facial hair – and he’s not even forty yet. If that’s any indication of what Julian might look like several years from now, I may have to stick around…

“Alyssa,” my sugar daddy says with the slightest inflection. “I want to apologize for earlier today. I suddenly realized that we hadn’t cleared our medical histories and wanted it out of the way so we no longer had to worry.”

I choke on my wine. You know, I had been willing to forget about that for the rest of the evening, for the sake of propriety. “I wasn’t happy, no.”

“I gleamed as much from our conversation. I didn’t think it would bother you that much, though.”

“Think of it from my position, Julian.” This is it. This is one of my rare chances to put some of my own rules down and assert myself in front of this man who already has so much power over me. “We’ve had sex twice. You never once asked me if I was even on birth control – which I am, by the way – or when I had most recently been tested. To be fair, I didn’t ask that either. But can you imagine my shock when your on-call nurse hauls me into a doctor’s office for a physical? I thought it was for my new insurance, but once I realized what I was really there for, Julian, I lost it. I haven’t been so angry in a while.”

“You’re right. I apologize. I should have briefed you beforehand so you were prepared.”

“No, what you should have done was ask me. I’m a big girl. I can make my own appointments with doctors I know and trust already.” Sadly, I can’t say that for some of my friends. “You can’t be cavalier like that and suddenly decide it’s important. Or, if the brain in your head finally does outreason the brain in your dick, you talk to me. Treat me like a human being, for fuck’s sake, not like your breeding mare.”

“I have no intentions for you to do…”

“That was figurative!” Sheesh, how dense is this guy at social interactions? “I know that we have to be formal about a lot of things, but my health is not one of them.”

“Like I said,” Julian growls through gritted teeth, “I am also willing to share my medical history for your own peace of mine.” He clears his throat. “Why the hell are you on birth control when you were a virgin, anyway?”

Really? Really? A woman can only furrow her brows so far down her face. “There are other reasons to take hormonal birth control than for baby prevention, Julian. Besides,” I sit up in my seat, but no matter how much I puff myself up, I’m still too embarrassed to look him in the eye, “it’s always a good idea to be prepared. I had no way to know when I would lose my virginity. I wanted to be ready.”

He studies my posture, my mannerisms for a few seconds before clearing his throat again. I can hear his thoughts now. “Here I thought I was so special, being your first. Now I realize it could’ve been any big ignoramus.”

“That’s one less thing to worry about, I suppose. I’m not interested in begetting progeny before marriage.”

I snort. What an idiot, right? He could’ve still knocked me up! Men, I swear to God… this guy needs to go back to sixth grade sex ed. Just because he knows how to fuck doesn’t mean shit about anything else, I guess. “As it so happens, neither am I, and I’m not interested in getting married until I’m at least… thirty.” That sounds good.

He snorts back at me. “That long, huh?”

“Hold your tongue, sir. I’m only twenty-one. I’ve got shit to do before having kids.”

“Well…” he relaxes back in his seat, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

What does that mean? He can’t be thinking long-term with me. Certainly not nine more years long-term. Right?

Or does he mean what would happen if he does knock me up somewhere along the line? I… I’m gonna have an anxiety attack thinking about that.

“There’s still the matter of sex when we get back to having it.” Julian finishes his drink. “Which better be sooner rather than later.”

“What about it?” The terms in the contract were pretty explicit. This is absolutely a sexual relationship, and Julian Marcus expects me to be rather open about what we do and how often. While the wording was definitely in my favor and ability to say fuck no, bro, was there, I’m under every assumption that his voracious sexual appetite will find me on the other end of his dick about as often as it was last night. This was the man who promised to fuck me in his office this afternoon before suddenly remembering what safe sex was.

“At some point, I would prefer if our sexual relationship evolves above vanilla every single time.”

Told you he was kinky.

“One thing at a time,” I implore. “I’m not opposed, but I don’t want to jump into it.”

“Absolutely not, I agree.”

I don’t want to think about it. Sure, fantasies are hot. Julian pinning my wrists down and talking dirty while he pounds my pussy sets me on fire. Whips and chains and paddles and latex are a different level, though. Maybe I’ll like it, maybe I’ll find it abhorrent… either way, I’d rather it not be sprung on me. It’s definitely not happening tonight.

Nothing is happening tonight.

We have a mutual agreement. No sex until everything comes back clear. Julian takes me home and I’m left with my homework… and erotic thoughts of him.

I’m not ashamed to say that I go to bed with my other boyfriend. I’m sure you remember him – the guy I was seeing the moment Julian first called me and told me to get my ass to his office Friday night.

Suffice to say, the real thing is that much better. Fuck my life.