His Demands: An Age Gap, Billionaire Boss Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)

As the sleek car cruises through the city, the revelation about Bora Bora leaves me reeling. ‘Wait, hold on a second,’ I blurt, my voice climbing an octave. ‘I’m not prepared for this! I don’t have the right clothes for a freaking tropical paradise, and…” my eyes flash… “what about Kiki?”

Ivan raises an eyebrow. “Kiki?”

“My cat! I didn’t arrange for anyone to feed her.’

My mind is a whirlwind of logistics and sheer panic. The idea of a week in the tropics, while undeniably tempting, throws me completely off balance. I’m mentally rifling through my wardrobe, trying to imagine what I can pull together for a beach vacation. And then there’s Kiki, my furball of judgment and affection, who definitely won’t appreciate being left to her own devices.

In the midst of my spiraling thoughts, Ivan reaches over and plucks my phone out of my hand. I stop mid-rant, my mouth hanging open in surprise.

‘Hey!’ I exclaim, a mix of indignation and confusion coloring my tone. ‘What are you doing?’

He doesn’t even bat an eyelash. With the calmness of a man used to handling crises, he starts scrolling through my contacts. ‘Who takes care of Kiki when you’re not around?’ he asks, his focus still on my phone.

‘Um, my neighbor, Mrs. Dalca. She’s a total cat whisperer, swears she was a feline in her past life,’ I reply, still slightly taken aback by his direct approach.

Without missing a beat, Ivan finds Mrs. Dalca’s number and dials it.

‘Mrs. Dalca? Hello, this is Ivan Stepanov, Julie’s husband,’ he says. ‘We’ve had an unexpected trip come up, and we were wondering if you could take care of Kiki for the week.’

He listens for a moment, then a small smile plays on his lips. ‘Yes, Bora Bora,’ he confirms, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to jet off to an exotic location at a moment’s notice. “Much appreciated. And don’t worry, you’ll be well compensated. Yes, thank you.”

I watch him handle the situation with an ease that’s both infuriating and impressive. The way he takes charge, solving problems with a phone call, is classic Ivan. And as much as I want to be annoyed with him for invading my personal space, I can’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude, and maybe something else.

‘Everything’s taken care of,’ he says, handing back my phone. ‘Mrs. Dalca will look after Kiki. And as for your wardrobe,’ he continues, turning to face me, his dark eyes locking with mine, ‘I’ve arranged for a personal shopper to meet us at the hotel. They’ll provide everything you need for the week.’

My mouth is suddenly dry, and the close confines of the car appear to be closing in, his presence seemingly filling up the space. ‘You what?’ I manage to stammer, my brain struggling to keep up. ‘A personal shopper?’

He nods, the corners of his mouth lifting in a half-smile that’s infuriatingly sexy. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to go unprepared.’

As Ivan smoothly continues, explaining how everything has been taken care of, I find myself oscillating between irritation and awe. ‘Fyodor walked Barb to her car, just to let her know what’s going on. Between him and Barb, everything at home will be taken care of,’ he says, his voice calm and reassuring.

I’m still trying to process this whirlwind of organization and consideration. Part of me, the part that likes to be in control, to make my own decisions, is irked. I’m not used to having choices made for me, having my life neatly planned out by someone else, even if it is just for a week.

It feels like I’m being swept along by a current I can’t control, one that’s both exhilarating and unnerving.

But then there’s the other part of me, the part that’s secretly thrilled by this grand gesture. No one has ever surprised me like this, whisked me away to a tropical paradise on a whim. It’s like something out of a movie, and I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement, a giddy anticipation for what lies ahead.

‘Thank you, Ivan,’ I say, my voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. ‘I’ve never been to Bora Bora. Actually, I’ve never been anywhere like it. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been out of the city.’

He turns to me, his expression softening ever so slightly. ‘From now on, you can go anywhere you like,’ he tells me, and there’s a sincerity in his voice that catches me off guard.

Leaning back in the plush seat, I take another sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling my nose. The lightheaded feeling isn’t just from the alcohol; it’s also from the excitement of what lies ahead and how different my life is about to become.

Growing up, Barb and I were never destitute, but we certainly weren’t jet-setting around the world. Barb’s art was beautiful, but it wasn’t until my high school years that her pieces started selling for the kind of money that changed things for us. Our trips were always within driving distance, modest adventures that were rich in adventure and fun, but not in luxury.

Now I am in a limousine with Ivan, heading to an airport where a private plane awaits to take us to one of the most beautiful places on earth. It’s overwhelming; a complete juxtaposition to the life I’ve known.

The moment I step onto the company plane, my excitement goes to another level. It’s like stepping into the pages of a glossy, high-end travel magazine.

The interior is a masterclass in luxury and elegance—plush, leather seats that look more comfortable than my couch at home, glossy wood panels, and soft, ambient lighting that creates a serene atmosphere. It’s spacious, more so than any plane I’ve ever been on, with a seating area that resembles a chic, high-end lounge.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever be a passenger on the company plane,’ I say as I roam around, touching the soft leather, admiring the sleek design, every detail perfect and luxurious.

Ivan watches me with a small, knowing smile. ‘There are many things about the company you’re yet to experience,’ he replies, his voice laced with amusement.

As I continue to explore, a team of impeccably dressed staff bustles around us, efficiently packing our things into the storage compartments and ensuring we’re comfortably situated. They move with precision and grace, making the whole process seem effortless.

Once we’re airborne, the gentle hum of the engines creates a soothing backdrop. ‘The flight is quite long. Feel free to take a nap or watch television if you like.” Ivan sweeps his hand toward the interior as he speaks.

Then he nods at a door at the other end of the cabin. ‘There’s a bed through there,’ he adds casually. “If you need a rest.”

A bed. On the plane. My insides do more than quake; they do a full-blown salsa dance. The idea of a bed in this confined space with Ivan sends my imagination into overdrive. It’s both terrifying and tantalizing, a forbidden thought that I can’t seem to push away. Technically speaking, not really forbidden anymore, though, is it?

I nod, trying to appear nonchalant, but inside, I’m a whirlwind of nerves and excitement. ‘Thanks, I might just do that,’ I say, my voice a little too high-pitched.

I settle into one of the luxurious seats, trying to focus on the TV screen in front of me. But my mind keeps wandering back to that door, to what lies beyond it. The thought of lying in that bed, the soft sheets, the quiet hum of the plane… Ivan, just a few steps away.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the flurry of thoughts and emotions swirling inside me. This is all new territory, uncharted waters that I’m navigating without a map.

The champagne and the gentle hum of the plane have me feeling bolder than usual. As I stand to walk past Ivan, I make sure my hip brushes his shoulder ever so slightly. It’s a small, deliberate gesture, a silent acknowledgment of the sexual tension that’s been simmering between us.

Ivan’s reaction is immediate. His hand shoots out, catching mine, halting my movement. Our eyes lock, his gaze intense and questioning. ‘Did you do that on purpose?’ he asks, his voice low, a hint of anticipation lacing his words.

I don’t answer. Instead, I hold his gaze, letting my eyes speak for me. The unspoken message is clear—yes, it was on purpose. I’m done with pretending, done with ignoring the attraction that’s been building between us. Those orgasms he gave me require a rematch. Pronto.

Ivan seems to understand. He stands up, and in one fluid motion, he’s right in front of me, his presence overwhelming. He pulls me close, one hand firm on my back, his other hand gently tilting my chin up. ‘I’ve been thinking about kissing you since I saw you on the courthouse steps,’ he confesses, his voice a rumbling whisper.

We never actually kissed. That night, he ate me whole, but our lips never met…

The admission sends a shiver through me. I’ve wanted this, fantasized about it, but hearing him say it out loud makes it real. The anticipation is almost too much to bear.

He kisses me. It’s not a gentle, questioning kiss. It’s powerful, demanding, a floodgate opening after being held back for too long. His lips are firm against mine, insistent, and I respond with equal fervor. My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

The pent-up desire, the tension, all of it comes pouring out in one kiss. Ivan’s hands roam over my back, pulling me even closer, his touch igniting a fire that’s been smoldering for far too long.

As we finally break apart, panting, the reality of what just happened hits me. I’ve just kissed my boss, now my husband, the man I’ve been drooling over for months. And it was everything I’d imagined and more.

We stand there, inches apart, breathing heavily. The look in Ivan’s eyes is one I’ve never seen before—raw, exposed, and utterly captivating. It’s a look that says this is just the beginning, that there’s so much more to explore, to discover beyond that handful of minutes on my couch.

In the quiet luxury of the plane, on our way to a tropical paradise, everything seems possible. The rules, the expectations, the roles we’ve played all fall away, leaving just Ivan and me, and the undeniable truth of our attraction.