Tom Billionaire Ch. 06

Taylor chuckled. "Maybe I should meet her. If you take care of this for me, I probably owe her a lunch or something." And then she launched into that condescending cackle once again.

Sharpley was visibly seething. His face was flushed pink, and he gritted his teeth so loudly I thought I could hear chipping.

"You blew it, Bob. You should have just taken the money Johnny was bringing you and run. JOHNNY cares about Cassandra. HE would've given you the money for her. But me? I couldn't give a shit. My husband's been fucking that tramp secretary of his for _years_. Now you're giving me an alibi free way of getting rid of BOTH of them. For that, I thank you."

Sharpley balled up his fists, and he was starting to shake.

"Y'know, I changed my mind," Taylor scoffed. "I really SHOULD thank you for offing them for me. What do you say I mail you a check? A thousand bucks? That's about what they're worth to me. Just gimme an address and I'll send it along, as soon as I figure out how to find a stamp around here."

"Fucking BITCH!" Sharpley snapped as he stood up so hard his chair fell over. Immediately he walked around the table to me, cocked back his right arm, and let fly.

There was nothing I could do to avoid the punch. My wrists and ankles were strapped down to the chair. But I did manage to twist my head with the impact. And I let my body sag to the side so that most of the force pushed me instead of my cheek taking it all.

My chair toppled. I braced myself as best I could, but it was still jarring when the thing hit the floor. The straps actually saved me; my head never bounced off the floor. Instead I was held there, tied to the chair and uncomfortably sagged to the side. I didn't even feel it when Sharpley lashed out with a kick, the seat bottom taking just about all the force instead of my ass.

"Fine. We'll do it your way," Sharpley snarled. "I'm going to kill him. And you're going to listen to me doing it."

For once, Taylor didn't have a comeback. The speaker on the desk was silent, although there were no line dead tones to indicate that she'd hung up.

His hands shaking, Sharpley stood over me and pulled a gun out of his waistband. He checked it a few times, flicking the safety. Clearly, this wasn't a man who was accustomed to firearms. But he figured it out and then used his left hand to jerk back on the slide, cocking the weapon. And then he aimed it down at my head.

Still nothing from Taylor. Sharpley sneered and aimed the gun. And my mind went blank.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't help it. A part of me wanted to think I'd be brave in the face of death, but the fact was: I didn't want to die. The one and only time I'd ever had a gun in my face, with Crystal Ward, Cassandra had knocked it away before I had time to think.

Not this time. Cassandra was tied up. No one was going to stop Sharpley. And as I waited for the bullet to enter my brain, my mind filled with all my regrets:

I was sad that I'd never give Cassandra the kids she finally wanted to have with me. We'd come so close to being the intimate couple, fully open to love, that I knew we were always capable of. But we'd never taken that final step, and now it was too late.

I was sad that I'd never gotten to reconcile with Taylor. She'd been with me since the beginning, the wild love of my life since college. Our lives had gone to pieces, like she'd just said over the phone. But despite her words, I truly believed we could have fixed things and gotten back to the way we were.

I was sad about Ashlyn. She was the mother of my child, my beautiful Joey. I felt bad for not supporting them the way either of them was worthy of. Ashlyn deserved to have a partner beside her, a husband for her family. And Joey deserved to grow up knowing her father.

And I was sad about Vivienne. She'd given so much to me, always loving and asking for almost nothing in return. She'd given up her life for me, and at such a young age. She'd been a source of comfort and hope for a long time already, and I was sad that she wouldn't get to live her dream life with her dearly loved 'Tohm'.

The gun fired. I heard the explosion from close range...

... and then nothing. I didn't feel anything.

_Am I dead?_

Blinking, I opened up my eyes and stared into the barrel of a smoking gun. Clearly, it was pointed right at me.

_Am I dead?_ I asked myself again. _Is my cold, lifeless body on the floor, and my soul is staring out from my lifeless eyes right now?_

But then Sharpley's jaw started quivering, and he pulled the gun back. He looked up and away. And without a word, he stepped aside. "Pick him up," he growled in a low voice.

Gruff #1 did as ordered, lifting my chair back into a seated position. To my right, I saw that a big chunk of the drywall had been taken out by the gunshot. Sharpley must have turned the gun away right before firing it. Only then did I realize I'd been holding my breath. And as my lungs filled with air and my ears filled with the sounds of the room around me, I realized that I was not dead.

Cassandra, across the table, was whimpering with obvious tear tracks down her cheeks. She looked so utterly relieved that Sharpley hadn't killed me. But at the same time, she was absolutely terrified.

It wasn't right. This was _Cassandra_. The woman was afraid of *nothing*. And I hated the situation that had made her so vulnerable.

"Couldn't do it, could you?" Taylor finally said over the speaker.

Sharpley stood at the foot end of the conference room, staring at the gun in his hands. "I'm not a murderer," he mumbled.

All was silent for a long moment. The gruff boys looked at each other, not sure what to do. Cassandra was still sobbing quietly, trying to calm herself.

But then Sharpley's eyes picked up, and he stared straight at the disheveled blonde. "I'm not a murderer, but I AM a connoisseur of fine women," he breathed. And without another word, he strode forward and over next to Cassandra, bending down beside her chair legs.

"What are you doing?" I gasped in alarm, my sense of foreboding rising.

"Shut him up!" Sharpley snapped immediately, pointing at me.

Gruff #1 immediately pulled out a roll of duct tape, tearing off a big strip and then gripping my head to clamp it over my mouth. I fought him as best I could with my hands tied, but he managed to fasten it over my lips so that all I could do was let out muffled screams.

By now, Sharpley had released Cassandra from her bonds, or so I thought. The cheap conference tables had four straight legs, one at each corner. He and Gruff #2 had re-tied each of her ankles to a leg, keeping her feet about shoulder width apart before bending her face-down over the tabletop surface. Cassandra was howling in protest as they fought with her to get her wrists similarly tied to the opposite legs, which would leave her helplessly immobile. I desperately wished I could help her, but all I could do was scream futilely into the blockage of the duct tape.

"Shut her up, too!" Sharpley yelled at Gruff #1.

"Bob!" Taylor yelled over the phone, but she was ignored for now.

Gruff #1 got Cassandra's mouth covered, no matter how hard she thrashed. I watched her upper thighs digging into the hard edge of the tabletop. And she jerked herself with enough force to make the entire table move away from the other three.

But Sharpley stepped up and slapped her... HARD... across one cheek, banging her head against the table at the same time. Cassandra's eyes rolled up into her head as she was concussed, and most of the fight went out of her.

"Fuck you, *bitch*," Sharpley spat before backing up behind Cassandra. There was a sadistic grin on his face as he reached both hands to the waistband of her sweatpants. And with an evil laugh, he dropped to his knees, dragging her pants and panties down with him.

"_Such_ a nice ass," he drawled. "I'm gonna enjoy shoving my dick up it. Has Kwong ever been man enough to do that to you? He ever get fed up with your prissy stuck-up attitude, shove you face-down over a desk, and sodomize the shit outta you? Huh?"

Cassandra whimpered, then shivered as Sharpley began running his hands against her naked skin. Even worse, she shrieked when his fingers buzzed her anus. I knew full well that Cassandra was an anal virgin. For all my proclivities in buttfucking Taylor, Ashlyn, Vivienne, or any other hot girl who would let me do it, Cassandra's asshole was exit-only. I figured she was just too uptight to ever really relax and enjoy it. But I didn't pressure her. She loved me in her own way.

Still with her mouth covered by duct tape, Cassandra started sobbing when Gruff #2 tugged her sweatshirt up as well, bunching the material around her neck while he began fondling her naked breasts. She was helpless to resist, tied down and bent over the table, but she still thrashed and tried to get herself away from their probing hands.

I closed my eyes again. My throat was raw from screaming at Sharpley to stop. I tried to tell him that I'd give him anything. I'd give him all the money I had in the world. Please, he just had to stop.

But he didn't stop.

I felt, more than heard, the moment Sharpley's dick went into Cassandra's body. Cassandra screamed, an unholy bellow of pain and shame all at once.

_This is karma. This is YOUR fault. This is what you were going to do to poor Olivia. The world is punishing you, and your beloved Cassandra is the one who's paying the price._

"Such a nice pussy..." Sharpley groaned contentedly. "Dry as hell, but you'll get wet soon. You're gonna get my dick all nice and wet. After all, you know which hole it's going into next."

Cassandra sobbed again, and I squeezed my eyes. Helpless. I felt so utterly and completely... helpless.

"You're going to die, Bob."

The words reverberated in my head. But a second later I realized that they'd been spoken aloud. Taylor's voice rang clear in the air. And in a quietly serious tone, she added, "I'll kill you myself if I have to."

"So she isn't just some fucking tramp to you after all, is she?" Sharpley brayed at the speakerphone.

"No woman deserves that," Taylor stated bitterly.

"You're next." Sharpley laughed coldly. "I'll find you. I'll tie down that sexy body you flaunted at all the company parties. I'll bend you into pretzel positions your dear _Johnny_ never even THOUGHT of. And I'll fuck you within an inch of your pretty little life!"

There was a sharp, high-pitched scream just then. I first whipped my gaze down from Sharpley's face to Cassandra. But while her face was mixed up in agony, she wasn't crying out. I looked at the speakerphone, but Taylor wasn't making a sound. Only then did I realize the noise wasn't a scream, but actually the sound of glass shattering directly behind me.

As I whipped my head around to the side, I caught sight of Gruff #1 jerking a pistol out of his jacket and aiming it behind me. But instantly a red dot appeared on his chest. And then little bits of fabric began puffing out from his jacket, accompanied by little squirts of red blood.

Gruff #1 fell onto his back.

I couldn't see behind me. My chair was facing the wrong way, and with all four limbs restrained, I couldn't really move it. Across the tables, Gruff #2 started firing back, his pistol cracking loudly while he ducked for cover.

Sharpley similarly ducked off to the side, and in the process, the entire table to which Cassandra was strapped tipped over. She started screaming again, but amidst the chaos of the room, all I could really do was duck my head and try not to get shot.

There was more gunfire to my right, toward the open door to the rest of the office building. Apparently Sharpley had more goons than just the Gruff boys, and they were putting up a hell of a fight. Still, at least one of my rescuers had recognized me. And a man with a French accent was suddenly beside me, trying to tell me he was here to help while digging the tip a knife between my wrists and my bonds.

Just after my wrists were freed, bullets sprayed above my head, drawing the attention of my French rescuer. I ducked out of my chair, seeking a lower profile. At the same time, I saw Gruff #1 lying nearby, flat on his back with a pool of blood expanding out from beneath his body. His gun was just a foot away, and despite my ankles still being tied to the chair, I lunged for it and dragged the chair with me anyways.

Moments later, I came up with the gun, and looked back for my rescuer. He was French police, although I didn't recognize his face. Gunfire was pouring in from the open doorway to the conference room, and his focus was in that direction. Me? I wanted to know what happened to Cassandra. So with gun in hand and ankles still strapped to the damn chair, I crawled straight underneath the tables and headed for the tipped over one where my assistant and ex-Acquisitions VP had tumbled.

"Sharpley!" I yelled.

"Call them off, Kwong!" he yelled back. I looked over and saw him sitting up with his back against the wall. His pants were still around his ankles, his dick now limp and shriveled in his crotch, though it was still wet from Cassandra's pussy. In his right hand was his gun, the same one he'd fired over my head just minutes ago. And this time, it was aimed off to my left, just behind the fallen table, where I saw that Cassandra's feet had come loose after her bonds had slipped below the table legs.

"Call them off or I'll kill her!" he screamed.

I couldn't see Cassandra, just her feet poking out from behind the table. I didn't know what condition she was in, but I couldn't wait any longer. I wouldn't lose her again. I _couldn't_. Sharpley was capable of anything at this point. And even as he screamed, I saw his hand shaking, with his gun pointing at the floor.

I didn't think about it. I raised my gun and fired.

James Bond, I'm not. I have HORRIBLE aim.

I meant to hit him in the chest. I didn't. In retrospect, what I'd just done was the absolute most stupidest thing I could have done. Even if I'd hit him in the chest, he'd probably still have enough time to shoot Cassandra. And I would have directly caused the very thing I wanted to avoid.

But I hit him in the arm. His right arm. The arm that connected to the hand that was holding the gun. And miracle of miracles, Sharpley dropped his weapon.

Just then, all other gunshots stopped. I saw Gruff #2 over to my right, kneeling on the floor with his hands in the air. Three French police officers, fully clad in battle gear, were standing in front of him, rifles at the ready.

And there were two cops behind me. "Are you alright, Monsieur Kwong?" one of them asked me, in a semi-familiar voice.

Sharpley leaned back against the wall, holding both arms above his head, although his right bicep was bleeding badly. His eyes were directly above me.

I looked back, and Captain Leclerq himself stood above me with a rifle trained on Sharpley. He'd been the one to address me. And I nodded my head, kneeling awkwardly with the chair still strapped to my ankles.

"I will take that," another officer said as he knelt beside me, reaching for my pistol. My hands shaking, I handed it to him. And as the hot metal left my grasp, I felt a huge wave of tension flow out of me.

"Fuuuck," I sighed, hanging my head forward in relief. It was over.

*[click]*

Four pairs of eyes darted over to the fallen table: the two cops', mine, and Sharpley's. Bob gasped and then held his hands in front of him defensively. And he started shaking. "No... please.... No..."

The cop that had cut free my wrists was now at my feet, and he finished cutting the bonds at my ankles. I stood awkwardly, and then moved over to the fallen table. Sitting upright on the other side, her right wrist still tied to a table leg, was Cassandra.

"Please..." Sharpley whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked like a man who knew he was about to die. And if I had been in his place, I would have believed it too.

Cassandra's blue eyes were gray flint. Her clothes were still a mess, her panties around her ankles and her sweatshirt still high enough to expose her bosom for the world to see. Her wrists were red from bondage, and she sat uncomfortably after the unwanted penetration she'd been forced to endure. She stared at her rapist with a look of malevolent hatred. And my left-handed personal assistant hefted the gun with confident ease as she aimed it directly at Sharpley's forehead.

She was only six feet away. She would not miss.

"Mademoiselle..." Captain Leclerq stated cautiously. "Please put the gun down."

If Cassandra heard him, she didn't show it. She still held the gun steady, fingering the trigger. Her mouth was a hard line across, and I could see the tension in her cheeks.

"Cassandra..." I said quietly. "It's over."

Her jaw quivered at the sound of my voice, but she didn't look at me. But then her hand started shaking, and she dropped the tip of the gun down. It looked like I'd gotten through to her, and Sharpley breathed a sigh of relief.

But a second later, I saw Cassandra set her jaw once again.

"Oh, shit," was all I had time to mutter. And as it turned out, I said it _exactly_ as Sharpley also moaned, "Oh, _shit_."

The gun fired. Cassandra didn't miss. And Sharpley was suddenly lying on his side, curled up in a fetal position, cradling the bloody mess in his naked crotch where his balls used to be.

"Let's see you be a connoisseur _now_, *bitch*!" Cassandra spat. And then almost casually, she flipped the gun around, held it by the barrel, and handed it up to a cop waiting right behind her.

Now it was over. The cop took the gun from her, and then cut free her last remaining bond. She immediately stood, fixed her clothes, and then launched herself into my arms.

"Get me out of here, Jonathan," Cassandra sobbed, crying once again.

I held her fiercely, promising myself I would never let her go. I nodded and patted her back. And with a sigh of relief, I looked over to Captain Leclerq. "Where are we?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Marseille."