Conquering the Goddess Read online

  “You know what, Gwen?” I rose from my chair, slamming Athena’s file shut and grabbing my tuxedo jacket. “I think I’ll ride with you to the ballroom.” The look of surprise on Gwen’s face was so out of place it was almost comical.

  “Sir?”

  "That is if that's alright with you?" I added with a smile. She cleared her throat and nodded.

  Once we were in the car, I turned to Gwen, who'd been my executive secretary for over a decade and asked, "Am I a good employer?" Gwen's face snapped to mine. She was wearing an expression of combined shock and confusion. Suddenly her eyes darted away. She seemed to be wracking her brain for a diplomatic response.

  “Well,” she was buying time, “I’m very pleased to be employed by WinterCorp. It’s an excited company and I…”

  “C’mon,” I cut her off. “Cut the shit. Am I an asshole or not?”

  “Sir, I don’t understand…”

  “It’s been brought to my attention recently,” I paused suddenly remembering the look of loathing and lust on Athena’s face as she backed away from me. I refocused quickly, “that I can be dismissive or condescending. I need you to be honest. Has that been your experience?”

  She sighed deeply but still didn't answer. I got the feeling she thought it might a trick question, or I was looking for an excuse to fire her.

  "Look, I've been doing a lot thinking" mostly about Athena Anderson, "and you have been my right hand and most trusted employee for over a decade. You were with me when Winter Corp only occupied the first five floors of The Strathmore, and now I own the entire building. I know that I've rewarded you with a high salary, stock options, and benefits, but in 12 years I don't ever remember once saying thank you."

  “Mr. Winters, are you…”

  "Look, nothing was handed to me." I continued. "When you bust your ass as hard as I did and gain as much success in such a short time, it's easy to think that you did it all on our own. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I see what you do for me every day and I appreciate it."

  “Thank you, sir.” I could hear a crack in her voice. She cleared her throat and Gwen’s steely gaze returned. “She is quite a remarkable young woman, isn’t she?”

  “Who is?” Gwen didn’t answer me. She just gave me a small smile. I was about to demand an explanation when we arrived at The Washington Ballroom.

  Gwen swiftly exited the car and sprung into action. She was wearing a black beaded evening gown and running shoes. She balanced a pair of short heeled black pumps on the first two fingers of her left hand and waved a tablet in her right, directing event staff.

  I left things in her capable hands and made my way to my usual perch during the gala, The upper balcony. The rumor in the seven years since the annual Winters Ball began was that the founder and benefactor of The Phillipa Winters Memorial Fund never attended the charity's flagship event. I'm not a fan of parties and crowds. They are always full people trying to kiss my ass or sell me something. It's a necessary part of being a billionaire, but the Winter's Ball was always about her. My mother never gave a damn about money or fancy parties, but she loved helping people who needed it. If she were alive, she'd be right up here with me, watching the show.

  I sat back in the leather chair and opened the decanter of forty-year-old scotch that was always waiting for me, courtesy of my most trusted employee. I felt good about my speech in the car, but I felt bad it took me so long to make it. Had I strayed so far away from my mother's example that I'd forgotten to be grateful for the people who helped me get to where I am? I knew what inspired my confession to Gwen, or I should say who. For an instant, I couldn’t help but think that my guardian angel had sent me a little goddess to kick my ass. And just like that, my thoughts turned to Athena Anderson, as they had almost every moment of the day since I met her.

  I kept seeing the curve of her breasts, the way her jeans hugged her tight round ass perfectly, and her tiny waist. I imagined running my hands all over her body and tasting every inch of her before claiming her. The fact that I’d even let her out of my sight in the first place showed a restraint I didn’t know I was capable of, but she wanted to leave and taking things by force is something I do in the boardroom, not the bedroom. Athena Anderson would be mine soon enough, and it would be her choice. In the end, I always get what I want.

  The guests had been arriving, and the ballroom was beginning to get crowded. I scanned the crowd seeing the usual suspects: politicians, every type of celebrity, and media elite. Then I saw something that made my cock stand at attention. It was a shock of red hair. It fell halfway down her back in lustrous waves and bounced ever so slightly as she glided through the ballroom in an emerald green, floor-length gown. The dress had a slit that ended halfway up her thigh displaying one gorgeous leg. Gone were the glasses and the top knot. From my vantage point, I couldn't tell, but I was pretty sure she wasn't wearing combat boots under that dress. I could hardly believe it was the same woman until I saw the flash of silver around her neck, the dog tags.

  She was alone and slowly making her way to the bar. I could make out the figure of a man following the path she cut through the crowd. It was one of my lawyers, Tim Graves. What the hell was he doing? Did they know each other?

  When Tim approached her at the bar, the look on Athena's face said, no, she'd never laid eyes on that man in her life. She also didn't seem interested in whatever he was telling her. Finally, something he said made her eyes widen, and her face wear that familiar flush. I could feel my fists tightening, and I was slowly rising from my chair. My little goddess turned to walk away from the bar when Tim grabbed her by her upper arm, pulled her close to him and began hissing something into her ear. At that moment, I saw a look that I swore I would never see on her face again: fear.

  I raced out of the balcony, knocking my chair aside and took the steps four at a time until I reached the ballroom. As I approached the bar, I ignored the gawkers who cut a path as I pushed aside anyone who was too slow to get out of my way.

  Before I could reach my girl, I heard the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by gasps and a few screams. I flew into a rage. I began knocking people to the ground in my haste to get to Tim and Athena. If he’d hurt her, I was going to rip him in half in front of everyone in this room, and I didn’t care. All that mattered was her.

  When I got to the clearing in front of the bar, I was shocked to see Tim laying on the marble floor holding his throat, sputtering and coughing. He was pointing up at something and trying desperately to speak. I looked over to see Athena. She was still wearing the look of shock and fear now mingled with pain and embarrassment. She was shaking her right hand and wincing with every flick of her wrist. The sight of her in pain spurred me to action.

  "Are you alright?" She was shaking like a leaf. She nodded, but her face told a different story. I scooped her into my arms and turned to leave. I would deal with Tim later.

  “So, that’s it?” came a raspy voice from the ground amid coughs, “you’re gonna choose that little bitch over your company?" I whipped around to face him and was about set Athena down so I could put my entire fist through his face when I felt a warm tiny hand on my cheek.

  "No, please don't." Her emerald eyes sparkled with tears as she pleaded. "All these people… you can't… Stay with me, please." I stood frozen, torn between my desire never to deny this woman any request she would ever make and my primitive need to grab Tim by his greasy hair and pummel him into extinction for what he'd just said. Suddenly, Gwen appeared behind me. She was out of breath and probably wishing she was still wearing her sneakers.

  "Sir, I saw you running from the balcony." She was still panting. "What's happened? Is that Tim Graves? Sir…" Her voice died away when she saw the precious cargo I was holding in my arms. I could almost see the faintest hint of a smile. The sight of Gwen and Athena together made me realize in an instant that I didn't want risk everything good in my life on a piece of shit like Tim Graves. I turned and walked towards the balcony wi
th Gwen jogging to keep up.

  "Gwen, prepare the office upstairs, and send a doctor to look at Miss Anderson's hand." She nodded and was already whispering into an earpiece. "And Mr. Graves, Sir?" She nodded at Tim, who though still unable to stand had managed to sit up and slide himself backward several feet as if that would have kept me from kicking his ass.

  “Have security toss him into the street and tell him he’s fired.”

  I had more pressing matters that needed my attention.

  Athena

  My heart was still thumping as if it was trying to escape my chest. I tried to wrap my head around the events leading up to me being carried across a ballroom with a sore right hand by none other than Grant Winters. I was sure my tirade on Monday had cost me my first job out of grad school before it started. Then my Editor-in-Chief called me into her office and told me that Mr. Winters wanted to expand the article to an all-access feature and double his ad buys, on the condition that I write the piece.

  I decided to take my time and research my subject before attempting to schedule another interview. At least, that’s the excuse I gave my self. The idea of being in a room with that man again both terrified and titillated me. I couldn’t shake the memory of him having me backed against the door, feeling his breath caressing my neck and his growl of a voice rumbling in my ears. I could barely maintain enough control to get myself out of there before it went too far. How could I hope to do it again?

  On Wednesday, my Editor called me into her office again and told me I would be covering The Winter's Ball. The annual gala was the most coveted event of the social season. Tickets were available on an invite-only basis and cost ten thousand dollars a piece. Guests were also expected to spend thousands more in sponsorships, charitable donations, and auctions.

  “I can’t go.” I protested. “And besides, Grant Winters doesn’t even attend the ball.”

  "Well, that's too bad because you are going." I could detect a hint of jealousy in her voice, and I wondered if she ever attended the ball herself. She could have my ticket.

  "I don't have anything to wear." It seemed like a silly protestation once I heard myself say it out loud, but I couldn't think of anything else.

  “You’ll wear this.” She motioned to a large black garment bag, which I hadn’t noticed until that moment or assumed it was her’s. “That’s it. I’m not saying another word about this.”

  Forty-eight hours later I was sitting in a five dollar rideshare car wearing a dress that probably cost more than my tuition last semester. There were no tags inside to give a designer's name or even the dress's size, but when I stepped into it a zipped it up, it was a perfect fit. It was a little too perfect. It hugged and lifted in all the right places but made wearing any undergarments impossible.

  I entered the ballroom and was met by Mr. Winters' executive secretary.

  "Hello again, Miss Anderson." As usual, she was all business. "I'm Gwen Rogers; we met on Monday."

  “Yes, of course.” I was trying to be polite while also trying not to think too hard about Monday's events. "Very nice to see you again. That's a lovely dress."

  “I can say the same about yours, Miss Anderson.” She smiled and wore an expression of, and it feels weird to say this, pride. “It is a perfect fit, and this shade of emerald matches your eyes exceptionally well." I was unsure how to respond, so I just smiled. She continued, "You have an all-access pass to the event. You may go anywhere you wish. Please, come find me if you need anything." She began to make her way back into the ballroom.

  "Don't I need a VIP wristband or something?" She stopped in her tracks, slowly turned around and looked at me as if I'd asked if there would pigs in a blanket served at the buffet.

  “No, Dear.” She smiled, turned on her heels and disappeared into the crowd.

  I was a bundle of nerves. I was probably the poorest person in this room, even if I didn't look it. I figured a glass of champagne would help me relax, so I made my way to bar. I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched.

  When I finally pushed my way through the crowd and was about to order my drink, I was approached by a shorter, balding man with a creepy smile. He looked at me as if he knew who I was, but I'd never seen him before.

  "Well, well, well." He purred. "You are lovely, aren’t you.” I exhaled deeply and tried to move sideways to create as much space as I could between myself and this jerk, but the bar was too crowded. "So, you're the reason I can't get Grant on the phone these days. You are the reason he's blowing this deal that I've poured my blood, sweat, and tears into for months."

  I could feel the heat rising in my face, and I started taking deep breaths to stay calm. He was talking was about Grant Winters, and I recognized this man's voice. He was the disembodied buzzing coming through the phone on Monday. Was his name Tim or Tom? The one that got cut off, for me, but the rest of what he was saying couldn't have been true. I haven't seen Mr. Winters all week, which felt like a confusing eternity of longing. How could I be causing him problems? "I'm sure you're a hot piece of ass, but if you think…"

  I'd heard enough. I needed to get away from this man and fast. I turned quickly and made a step to walk away, and Tim or Tom grabbed me by the arm and pulled me close to him. He hissed into my ear, "If you think I'm gonna let some little bitch get in the way of the deal that will make my career, you're sadly fucking mistaken. I'm gonna…”

  “Let me go.” I could feel the stinging tears welling up in eyes. I was desperate not to make a scene. “Please.”

  "I'll let you go when I'm finished with you, and I'm just getting started." He hissed. "Hey, you're pretty strong." He was massaging my forearm, and I felt every inch of my flesh crawl with disgust. "What are are you ex military? Is that what these dog tags are for?” He reached for my most prized possession, the one item I wore at all time, even with a designer evening gown.

  I felt my fear turn to rage and the next thing I remembered, Tim or Tom was on the floor clutching his throat and my right hand felt like someone had stomped on it. I reflexively felt for my dad's tags, and they were still right where they belonged. I began to feel the gravity of the situation. I had punched a man at The Winter’s Ball. Tim or Tom was still on the ground, clutching his throat and pointing at me. I expected to see two burly security guards, ready to cart me off to jail when the crowd parted but instead it was Grant Winters.

  He burst through the crowd of people surrounding us like a raging bull with fists clenched and nostrils flaring. Then his expression changed to confusion when he saw his lawyer lying on the ground. He looked from him to me and back again with his face turning from anger to confusion to shock, then finally concern when he saw my hand. I had been unaware how badly I was shaking until he swept me up in his strong arms and I felt my body relax.

  His lawyer was starting to regain his speech and yelled something at Grant. I could feel his body tense, and he turned back to scene I desperately wanted to escape. In his arms, was the first place I'd felt safe in a long time. I wanted to stay in his arms forever, and I wanted to be carried away from this craziness. I pleaded for him to stay with me and when he looked into my eyes, I felt the familiar swooping feeling I'd felt in his office. It was once again like Grant Winters, and I were the only people that existed.

  Gwen suddenly appeared, they spoke for a minute and next thing I realized Grant was bounding across the ballroom. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his chest. I could feel the curve of his massive pectoral muscles and felt his enormous heart beating against my cheek.

  We entered a large office, and Grant sat me down on what looked like a replica of his mahogany desk at The Strathmore. He stood between my legs and cupped my face in his massive hands and gently stroked my cheeks with his thumbs.

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” He gently turned my face up to meet his penetrating gaze. His look of total concern made the full weight of tonight’s events come crashing down on me.

  "I'm so sorry, Mr. Winters." I was sobbing. "I caused a s
cene. I didn't want to. I tried to get away from him. He was saying awful things…and he grabbed for my Dad's tags, and I just…I just…" Now I was sobbing and rambling.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Grant interrupted me. “It’s my fault for not stopping that asshole when I saw him following you.”

  “You saw him…”

  "And it's my fault for ever letting you out of my sight on Monday. I should have been by your side protecting you." He looked away at this, and I could see a look of real guilt. "You are all I've been thinking about since I met you." Tim was right. I was the reason he was distracted from his work.

  "That guy, Tim said, I was distracting you from your big deal. He said I was ruining it and he threatened…I never meant to…" He kissed the tears on my cheek away, stopping me mid-sentence.

  "You'll never have to worry about Tim again, and the deal is fine. And as for his threat…"His face grew serious and looked deep into my eyes. "You belong to me now." I feel my entire body quiver at those words.

  "That means no one will ever hurt you." He kissed my cheek again.

  “No one else will touch you.” He kissed my neck.

  “They’ll have to go through me. “He tipped my head back and planted a kiss on my exposed throat.

  "And I protect what's mine." He covered my mouth with his and kissed me deeply. I felt his tongue part my lips. I returned his kiss hungrily as he pressed his body to mine. I felt his hardness against my thigh and instinctively pressed my hips into his. He stopped kissing and looked down at me with a devilish grin.

  “Why, Miss Anderson, it would appear that you aren’t wearing any panties...”

  “It’s this dress,” I panted. I wanted his mouth on mine again. “It’s too tight for underwear.”

  “I love it even more.” He kissed me again while he leaned into me and I relaxed onto the desks hard cool surface. He began to trail kisses down my body giving me little jolts of electrified pleasure. He pushed the skirt of my dress around my waist and heard him growl with longing at the sight of the wetness between my thighs. He placed the palms of his hands on my knees and spread my legs even further and I could feel my lips parting exposing my virginal slit and clitoris for this man who’d claimed my heart and was now about to claim my body.