His Control: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  And then I’d remembered the Wiltmore Estate, the memory of the majestic but decrepit old place returning in a rush of childhood nostalgia. Weekends spent exploring the old place, wondering why it sat empty, and who had built it. On a whim I’d had an assistant check out if the place still existed, and she’d come back and let me know that not only was it still there, but it was for sale.

  I bought it immediately. It would be perfect as a place to run my new clinic from, and seeing as it had sat empty for decades, it was a steal.

  I was in the town itself now, driving through familiar streets. There was the old ice-cream parlor we’d hung around in as teens, now boarded up. There was Doc Barker’s clinic, still going. I made a mental note to go see him at some point, to reassure him that I wasn’t trying to run him out of business. There was my old high school, still open and exactly as I remembered it. The thing that struck me about the entire place was how shabby everything was, how run-down and rickety. The magazine article hadn’t prepared me for just how much Ocean Hills felt like a town left behind, abandoned, forgotten.

  Well, I was gonna change all that. And I’d start with the old Wiltmore place. Or, the new Frost place as I guess it could be called now.

  As I pulled up in the driveway in the new Aston Martin I’d bought, I saw my purchase for the first time since I was a kid. The house stood in a clearing, surrounded by huge cedars. The large lawn out front was overgrown with straggly weeds and waist-high grass. The windows were all boarded up and the exterior was shabby and dirty, facades cracked, paint peeling.

  Even so, I knew immediately that I’d made the right decision in buying the old place. I envisioned it as it would look when all the work was complete - retaining all its stunning period features, but brought up-to-date as a modern, forward-looking medical facility for the town.

  I turned as I heard a car pull up through the gates, frowning slightly. I wasn’t expecting anyone.

  The door opened, and a woman stepped out, clutching a sheaf of papers in her hand. Not just any woman, either - I couldn’t take my damn eyes off her as she walked towards me. She was slim, but I wouldn’t have described her as petite. The simple black skirt she wore hugged her all the way up, accentuating the delicious curves of her thighs. A white blouse was tucked in around her tiny waist, but it wasn’t so loose that I couldn’t make out her full tits. Her plump lips were pursed as she made her way over, her deep brown eyes guarded and distant.

  Wow; hot is all that comes to mind. Ball-achingly hot.

  When she reached me, she thrust out the papers she held, waiting for me to take them.

  “Mr. Frost, I presume?”

  There was a certain coolness to her tone - if not outright hostility, it wasn’t far off.

  “That’s correct,” I said. “What’s this?”

  I took the papers and glanced over them. Ella Gordon - Interior Design and Renovation.

  “Ella Gordon,” I murmured, half to myself. “Now where do I recognize…”

  She didn’t say anything, still just coolly examining me.

  And then it came to me in a flash of half-forgotten recollection.

  Elizabeth fucking Gordon.

  Lizzy Gordon, the quiet little squirt from across the street. The girl with braces who used to follow me around with those big puppy-dog eyes, willing me to notice her, to acknowledge her existence. I never had - she’d been so much younger, and I’d had other things on my mind.

  Wow, you’ve certainly filled out, now haven’t you?

  She must’ve noticed my expression.

  “I guess that means you remember me now, Micah? What’s the deal, anyway? With you coming back here to Ocean Hills, I mean. Hometown boy, come back to make good?”

  Her tone was sardonic, a smirk playing on her lips that set me on edge. Her brown eyes looked directly into mine, as if challenging me. I drew myself up to my full height and looked down at her, condescendingly.

  Two can play at that game. And I think you’ll find that I’m much more...experienced.

  “I’m not really sure that’s much of your concern, Miss Gordon. Now, do you want to talk me through your proposal, or are you just here to waste my time?”

  She shrugged, insouciant.

  “I think the proposal speaks for itself. Feel free to take a look through it.”

  I blinked at her. I wasn’t used to women acting this way around me. My looks, my status, my money; they all usually meant that women were pliable and compliant. Lizzy – Ella – was nothing like them...and it thrilled me. I loved a challenge.

  I’ll have you begging for my attention soon, Ella Gordon. What I want, I get. And right now, I want you. It’ll make for a fun little side-project to go along with the house.

  I riffled through the papers carelessly, but I’d already seen everything I wanted to. Her work was good - more than good, she was excellent at her job. She specialized in old places like these, and she had a great eye for detail, preserving period features while bringing the overall look right up-to-date.

  I didn’t let on, of course. I just pursed my lips and shrugged.

  “This is all quite interesting, but this is going to be a very extensive project. I’m not sure a smaller outfit like yours is really suited to take it on. I have very ambitious plans for this old place.”

  That got a rise out of her, anger storming into her eyes.

  “I have more experience than anyone else in renovating this type of property,” she began, but I just held up a hand.

  “Please, Miss Gordon. Don’t take it personally - it’s only business. Besides,” I said, a smile on my lips, “I’ve yet to make my final decision. I’ll be in touch once I have.”

  And then I turned and started to make my way towards the house, leaving her there on the driveway, mouth open in shock and impotent outrage.

  A good starting point for our relationship, I think. She’s not the ice-queen she likes to think of herself as.

  I didn’t turn and look behind me, just listened as her car door slammed and she roared off down the driveway, tires spitting gravel as she went.

  As I reached the entrance to the house I took a deep breath and unlocked the large, heavy doors. They swung open with a creak, and I stepped inside - the first person to enter in many years. The first thing that struck me was the smell; it was stale and musty. But, overall, it could’ve been much worse. Since I’d left town all those years ago, it seemed someone had boarded up the windows’ – most likely to keep kids like me out of the old house. The windows had all been securely nailed shut with thick plywood, and those already heavy doors had been reinforced to keep out even the most determined of intruders.

  The condition of the interior, while definitely in need of extensive work, wasn’t terrible. The entrance hall had huge, sweeping ceilings - as I craned my neck to look upwards I saw a stunning heavenly scene, replete with angels and a heavenly host, made completely out of mosaic. A few small tiles were missing, but they wouldn’t be difficult to replace.

  The oaken parquet floors were dusty, but otherwise in remarkably good condition, and the walls would need to be completely stripped and repainted. That was going to be a big undertaking by itself - and this was just the entranceway.

  I took some time to slowly wander through the quiet, empty house, picturing in my mind’s eye what it would all look like when it was finished. There were countless rooms, varying wildly in their decor and condition - some looked as if the house had only been sitting empty for a day, while in others animals had made their homes.

  Curiously, I found at least one door that simply opened onto a brick wall, one hallway that didn’t go anywhere, just suddenly ended, and a staircase that wound around and up leading to….nothing. Just another wall.

  These were all by the design of the original eccentric owner, and I guess just added to the charm of the weird old place. I could’ve knocked them all down, but I’d already decided to keep all of the original features intact, oddities and all. It was a part of the histo
ry of the place, something I was keen to preserve.

  Consulting the brochure the real estate agent had given me, I could see that there were fourteen bedrooms, twelve full bathrooms, three dining rooms, two ballrooms even.

  Why would anyone need two separate ballrooms?

  As I wandered through the quiet house, I found my thoughts returning to Ella Gordon. Not just that body of hers; although, of course, I was finding it hard to shake that mental image of her figure-hugging dress, eager to see what was underneath. But her curious attitude towards me - why had she been so hostile? As far as I could remember, I’d never done anything to make her hate me when we’d been kids. Maybe she was just jealous of my success? Maybe she hated rich guys just out of principle? None of that mattered, anyway. She was a challenge to be conquered, and I knew I was up to the task.

  She’d be getting the contract - truth be told, I hadn’t even had time to look at any of the other offers I’d been sent. But her work was excellent, and besides, I wanted to see what Little Miss High and Mighty was like between the sheets. If she was as feisty in the bedroom as she had been outside, then we were going to have a great time indeed...

  Having explored the house, I made my way out back, to the overgrown gardens. Currently they were a tangle of weeds and overgrown grass, but I’d been informed that all of the original stone features were still in there somewhere. There was an astounding Olympic-sized swimming pool, a few outbuildings where servants had once lived, and, bizarrely, what had presumably once been some sort of zoo. And behind it all, the ocean, which currently glittered in the late afternoon sun.

  I stood there in the last rays of the afternoon’s warmth, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. The only sound was of birdsong, and the wind gently rustling through the cedars. Faintly in the background I could hear the waves breaking softly onto the shore.

  It felt good to be home. The future was full of such tantalizing possibilities, and I knew that I was gonna make it all come to fruition. This place would be my house, and a modern, hi-tech clinic for those needing bespoke in-house care. I also had plans to fund a program for local kids who needed care they, or their families, couldn’t possibly have ever usually afforded.

  It felt right to do these things, to give back to the community that had led me to where I was today. I couldn’t wait to get started, to see my plan come to life before my eyes.

  And, also, to get to know Ella Gordon better. To bring her into my life, to introduce her to the real me, and to teach her the pleasures of submission.

  3

  Ella

  After I’d found out that the new Wiltmore owner was taking bids on the renovation contract I’d very quickly drawn up a set of plans. Well, truth be told, I hadn’t needed to work too hard on them – I mean, I’d already had them all drawn up for a long time. They were my plans, my dreams. But fuck it, if I couldn’t have the place for myself, I’d at least make sure it got the makeover that it deserved.

  And so it was with a bittersweet feeling of anticipation that I’d pulled up to the house that afternoon. The new owner was supposed to be in town, and people had said they’d seen him driving up to the house. I thought I’d get ahead of the competition and deliver my proposal personally, maybe use a little of the old Gordon charm to win him over.

  I’d been expecting a graying old MD, close to retirement. I had not been expecting Micah Frost. I’d heard he’d done well for himself of course, we all had. The news about his amazing invention had been all over TV and the internet. Not bad for an Ocean Hills boy, not bad at all.

  I’d had a crazy bad crush on Micah when we were kids. He’d lived down the street, and I always remembered him as a lanky kid with a crooked smile. He’d never really paid me much attention, being five years older, but I’d pined after him for ages, just waiting for the day that he’d finally notice me. It’d never happened, and then that incident with his parents had happened, and he’d left town without a word, seemingly never to return.

  But there he was, standing there, hands on hips, staring up at the house. At my house.

  I’d tried my best, I really had. To be nice, to be professional. But as I’d approached him, proposal clutched in sweaty hands, I could see how much he’d changed. There was the brand new, expensive car, the immaculately tailored suit, the perfect hair. For some reason, this made me dislike him - it all just seemed so….inauthentic. What had happened to the friendly kid with the crooked smile and scruffy hair? The guy standing there in front of me was as generic as a magazine cover-model; his appearance seemed so carefully curated that I couldn’t make out anything that spoke of the man himself.

  And then, when I’d handed him the plans that I’d spent months and years perfecting, planning out every single detail, agonizing over, he barely even glanced at them. To make things even worse, he didn’t even recognize me, not at first.

  And so I’d run my mouth, and probably ruined any chance whatsoever of winning that contract.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. What were you thinking? All you had to do was plaster on a fake smile, be nice. Why was that so difficult?

  I was driving away from the house after my encounter with Micah, my knuckles white as I death-gripped the steering wheel. I’d never thought I’d see him again. It had taken me a long time to get over that stupid preteen crush once he’d left - and somehow, stupidly, seeing him again had brought it all back. It made me embarrassed to admit that, more than anything else, it had stung the most that he hadn’t recognized me. I used to dream that when I was older, and had boobs and nice hair and clothes that fit, all the things that men liked - then Micah would notice me.

  Well, I had all those things now, but he was a goddamn billionaire who could have anything, and anyone, he wanted. I guessed that an unknown small-town interior designer and restoration specialist wasn’t exactly high on his list.

  I frowned as I drove.

  “Well, fuck it and fuck him. I don’t want him either. The man’s a snob, an arrogant snob. You can do better, Ella.”

  Saying it aloud made me feel better, even if I didn’t quite believe my own words.

  I sighed. There wasn’t anything to be done for it now - the words had been said and he had my proposal. He’d either give me the job or he wouldn’t, no point dwelling on it.

  “Micah Frost? Our Micah? From Ocean Hills?”

  Graham looked incredulous as I nodded. We were sitting in my small office with Lindsey, discussing the day’s events over coffee.

  “But why would he come back here? Isn’t he rich now? Like, ridiculously rich?”

  I shrugged.

  “Beats me, Gray. Maybe he’s gonna set up some sort of retreat or getaway for rich people up there or something. No fucking idea. Don’t really care either.”

  I tried to keep the huffiness out of my voice, but obviously didn’t succeed because Graham’s eyes lit up immediately, sniffing out the potential for some juicy gossip or drama?

  “Oh?” he drawled. “Do tell.”

  I took a breath.

  “He’s changed, guys. Like...I don’t even know, he doesn’t even seem like a real person, almost. He’s so closed off, so...artificial. He was standing there with his expensive suit and his perfect hair, sneering at me like I wasn’t fit to lick his boots. I don’t know what happened to that goofy kid I used to crush on, but that Micah Frost up there isn’t the same one who used to live here.”

  Lindsey grimaced.

  “So I take it he didn’t like your proposal? But you guys worked so hard on that!”

  “He barely even looked at it, Linds. Just took it and glanced at it like he couldn’t give less of a shit. Then he seemed to imply that a ‘small outfit’ like ours wouldn’t be capable of taking such a big job on.”

  Graham held up a hand.

  “Hold up a sec here, Ella. All of this is very interesting, to be sure, but did I hear ‘perfect hair and expensive suit’? I’m gonna need more details on that front. Out of, uh...professional interest, of course.”


  Lindsey groaned, smiling at his antics.

  I considered for a moment or two, trying to put into words what I had found so off-putting about Micah.

  “Well, he’s really good-looking. Everything’s perfect, everything’s...calculated. Like, imagine what a really rich, young handsome doctor would look like in a movie. That’s him. Like he picked his identity out of a magazine or something. It’s just...I dunno, I didn’t like it. He’s nothing like I remember.”

  Graham snorted in derision.

  “No wonder your love live is a mess, Ella. You’re telling me he’s impossibly rich, really handsome, and moving to our town, but somehow all of that is off-putting? What? Am I missing something here?”

  “Not all of us are as shallow as a dirty puddle, Graham.”

  His eyes widened in mock offense.

  “Okay, well I’ll be shallow and snag all of the rich handsome guys, you can be oh so deep and mysterious and have whoever’s left, alright?”

  Lindsey butted in, to stop our petty bickering. She was always the peacemaker, always trying to see the positive side of things. It was one of the things I loved about her.

  “Well anyway, you shouldn’t get too discouraged, guys. Maybe he was just preoccupied earlier. Maybe he’ll take a look at your proposal later on, see just how great it really is, and give you the job. But,” she considered for a moment, “would it be worth working for him anyway, if he’s such an asshole?”

  I rummaged around in my desk, finding a copy of the proposal and holding it out to the two of them. Their eyes widened.

  “Hell yes, it’ll be worth it,” I said.

  “That’ll keep us going for...years,” Graham said. “And he can definitely afford it.”

  We chatted for a while, discussing the possibilities. This job could be the one that really got my business into the big leagues - that one outstanding thing on our portfolio that would carry real weight, allow us to bid on ever more ambitious contracts.

  However, every time I started to get excited with the possibilities, I remembered his attitude toward me up at the house, the way he’d sneered down his nose at me. There was no way a guy who’d treated me like that was going to award us the job.