Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (16 page)

My stomach dropped and with it I nearly let go of the dozen eggs I’d pulled out of the fridge. It hadn’t occurred to me that the video might already have been aired on television. Callie hung up the phone and tapped into it furiously. “Callie,” I said guiltily. “Wait.”

She ignored me and hit play on a video. I heard Zane declaring his love for me, and then his and Patrick’s warbling voices coming through the little speakers on her phone. I swallowed hard. The song ended.
Please cut away. Please cut away. Please-
      

Patrick’s unsteady voice rang out through the video. “Rachel. You never called me back. If you had called me back, we could have been together. It was supposed to be us.”

The look on Callie’s face made me want to die. This was raw footage. No need to editorialize. “
Res ipsa loquitur.
The thing speaks for itself,” Callie whispered. There were tears in her eyes. She was trying to blink them back. “That’s why Patrick didn’t come home last night. He was with you.”

I shook my head. “No, no. I came home right after midnight. Zane dropped me off. I don’t know where Patrick is-“

Callie laughed darkly and took a few deep breaths, her perfectly made up face seething. “I need my coffee container,” she said absently. She opened the cabinet and went about her usual morning routine of pouring coffee into her travel mug. “Even if he wasn’t with you, he was
with you
, Rachel. I knew it. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I’ve known it for years. He’s always loved you more than he’s loved me.” She said all of these things matter-of-factly. I found myself wishing that she were yelling. It would have been much less painful than this.

“We never did anything, Callie. We went on three dates but I wasn’t interested in him. And then he met you, and it was wonderful and-“

“And you never told me that you went on three dates. Did you fuck him? Did you fuck my husband? Were you a virgin other than Patrick’s dick inside of you? Did you purposely write that out of history so I wouldn’t ask you questions that would lead to incriminating answers?”

I shook my head, feeling the full blast of prosecutor-style Callie. If this was what she was like in the courtroom, no wonder she had made partner so quickly. This was terrifying. “We never had sex. I swear. I was a virgin until I met Zane. Patrick and I only ever kissed. That was it. Three dates, most of which were in public until an end-of-the-night kiss.”

Callie nodded robotically and pushed past me into the entryway. “My husband has been acting more and more strangely over the last few months. Now I know why.” Her fingers hovered over the key hooks. She grabbed my set of storm trooper keys and tossed them at me. “Get out,” she said flatly. “I want you gone by the time I get home from work. I don’t want to see you in my house ever again.”

Tears were burning in my eyes. “Callie, please. Please. I love you. You’re my sister. Let’s talk about this.”

She grabbed her own silver key fob. “Fuck you, Rachel.”

And then she stormed out the front door, leaving me with my tears and the total, earth-shattering silence of an empty house.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ZANE

“I’m just saying, it would make the most sense for you to just go ahead and move in with me permanently.” I hauled suitcases out of the back of my Land Rover and put them on the luggage cart I’d borrowed from the bellhop.

“I don’t want to do that until we’re married,” Rachel said.

I grinned and pulled her over to me. “Then let’s get married right this second.” Rachel rolled her eyes. I kissed her on the mouth. A car honked from the driveway behind us. “Fuck off,” I screamed back at them.

The valet came over. “Mr. Reid, you are blocking the very front here. I’m sorry to disturb but it would be great if you could move your vehicle. Or I could move it, of course.”

I smiled at the kid. “We’re done here,” I said, handing him the key and pushing the metal baggage cart into the lobby of my building. Tourists and residents were milling around.

“You’re joking about the wedding, right?” Rachel asked.

I grinned at her as we stepped into my private penthouse elevator. “I’m not, actually. You want to get married today? We’ll do it.”

Rachel sighed. “Honestly, that’s the last thing I want to do right now. I really just want to take a long, hot bath and then sleep until the party tomorrow.” She slapped her forehead and groaned. “Oh God, the party.”

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “One thing at a time, my love. One thing at a time.”

I unloaded Rachel’s’ belongings in my bedroom while Michael drew a bath for her. Rachel had tried to insist on doing it herself but Michael wouldn’t hear of it. I heard them talking in the bathroom as I unpacked her things.

“You just wait and see, Ms. Rachel. I promise you things will turn around faster than you can blink. It’s how it always happens. Darkest before the dawn and all that.”

I heard Rachel sniffling and the whip of fabric. I knew that Michael had procured one of his signature starched white hankies with his initials embroidered in the corner. It almost went without saying. “Thank you, Michael,” she said. “And please, just call me Rachel.”

Michael chortled. “I’m getting closer to that. Maybe next month. I’ll put it on my list. Is there anything else I can get for you?” He emerged a moment later and shut the double doors to the bathroom with a loud
click
. “She’ll be alright,” he said to me. “Don't you worry. I’ve called down to the kitchens to bring her up a miniature version of her favorite pizza along with a chocolate malt milkshake.”

“Thank you, Michael,” I said earnestly, folding up the last of Rachel’s lacy underwear and tucking it in the dresser drawer. “Do you think you could do a few more things for me? For tomorrow.”

By the time I finished telling Michael the instructions, the pizza and milkshake had arrived. I took it into Rachel, who was napping in the water. I shook her gently awake. She beamed at the sight of the food. I was happy to see she was still wearing her ring on her finger. The soap bubbles formed a puffy, foamy crown around the diamond as she reached for the pizza.

I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the water. “Be my guest,” Rachel said sarcastically. I grabbed her ankles under the water and started massaging her feet. She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure.

“I figured you wouldn’t mind too much if I interrupted your hour of rest if I paid for it in the form of a foot massage,” I said.

She sighed and took another bite of pizza. “This feels so decadent considering I just ruined my sister’s life.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t ruin shit. Patrick did. He dug his own grave, not you. Don't you fucking blame yourself for his mistakes. It’s not like you lead him on or anything. He’s a grown boy. Let him make his own mistakes, as abundant as they may be.” I kneaded my hands into the arches of her feet. She was relaxing more with every single pulse of my fingers. She finished her pizza and wiped her hands on the cloth napkin on the tray.

I had methodically been moving my massage further and further up her legs. Now I was at her mound. She didn’t tell me to stop as I slid my fingers into her, reaching forward to kiss her lips. She wrapped her legs around me and I entered her, gliding and thrusting as she screamed out in pleasure.

“Bathtub sex is my favorite sex,” she whispered a few minutes later.

I laughed. “It’s a lot of work for me, but whatever makes you happy.” I kissed her forehead.

She sighed. “How many phone calls did you get from the show’s producers about the video?”

“All of them,” I responded. “Don’t worry, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No,” I replied. “Your only job at this point is to show up to that party tomorrow. I’ll take care of everything else.”

***

Rachel wasn’t as upset as I thought she would be about the hair, makeup, and ball gown team I had Michael send up the next day. She spent the afternoon being massaged, waxed, buffed, and polished while I worked out in the gym. When I came upstairs, she was being fitted into couture. She had a smile on her makeup-covered face.

I got close to her but she held up her hands. “No hugs and kisses until you’ve showered. You’ll ruin the silk.” She motioned to the floor-length royal blue dress she’d been poured into. It hugged her every curve. The seamstress had pins in her mouth as her assistant sewed away at the hem of the dress. “As usual, I’m too short so they have to shorten the hem.”

I smiled and chugged the rest of my bottle of water. “You’re not too short. You’re just right.”

I showered and changed, marveling at how long society made women take to get ready to meet its arbitrary standards. I hung out in the bedroom until I got the all-clear from Michael.

“Your princess and chariot awaits, sir,” he said from the doorway.

I stood up from the edge of the bed and shut off the
Star Wars
marathon that I’d been watching. “Do I look alright?”

“Honestly, sir?” He asked me. I nodded. “You look like utter shite compared to the woman who will be on your arm this evening. But that can’t be helped and certainly isn’t your fault. It’s an impossible standard with such a radiant specimen.”

I laughed and patted him on the arm. “You’re a good man, Michael.”

“Don’t mess this up, sir,” he responded. Then he reached out to straighten my bow tie. “Good luck.”

He’d been right. Rachel took my breath away. She stood in the foyer waiting for me, a diamond-covered purse clutched under her arm. The front of the blue silky dress had been hemmed so it kissed the floor; a small train trailed in the back. Her auburn hair was done in finger waves around her face; false eyelashes skimming her green eyes and fading into a smoky shadow across her lids. She wasn’t wearing her glasses; I’d bought her new contact lenses. I missed the frames but I didn’t miss how they hid her perfect eyes. The fabric of the strapless dress hugged her ample, cream-colored cleavage.

I took her hand and kissed it. “I don’t have glass slippers for you,” I said. “But I’m going to do my best to make sure you don’t get away from me tonight.”

Rachel smiled. “I feel like somebody else but in a really good way.”

I leaned forward to kiss her. She put her hand up. “Lipstick. Later.”

“Mm, I think a makeup team was a mistake,” I said, kissing her ear in the car. “I like you better as one hundred percent Rachel and your lips as free as humanly possible.” I kissed down her neck, breathing on her warm skin. Goosebumps appeared where my lips touched her. “Doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you somewhere else.”

We were in a hired limo that the network had sent to pick us up. The divider was up between us and the driver. Rachel giggled and pushed me away. “
Later
, horn dog. Seriously.”

I sighed. “Fine. Your loss.”

“Oh, I know it is.” She pulled her iPhone out of her purse. I’d bought her a brand new smartphone months ago after I couldn’t get in touch with her. Her piece of shit former phone lost charge so frequently she never answered it.

“You heard from your sister yet?” I asked.

Rachel shook her head. “Ten missed calls from that asshole Patrick, though.”

Her face was pained and I balled my fist up, wanting desperately to hunt Patrick down and kick the shit out of him. “You should block his number.”

“Can I do that?”

I reached for her iPhone and saw she had ten missed calls, ten voicemails, and a dozen texts. I went into his contact information and blocked it, handing it back to her. “Now we can enjoy our evening and hopefully the rest of our lives without worrying about him.”

Rachel grimaced. “I hate that things turned out like this. I was never interested in him. I thought he’d gotten over me.” Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew distant.

“Did you really think that?” I asked her pointedly. She seemed to be remembering things.

She shook her head slowly. “There were moments. I guess I just didn’t want to allow myself to believe it because I just had that little interest in him. And I didn’t want to hurt my sister. I had to push him away a lot, in retrospect.” She bit her lip. “I asked for his advice back in July when we made the, you know.
Contract
.”

My stomach flipped over and adrenaline rushed through my body. “You told him? About the details?”

She shook her head furiously. “No, no. Not the details. Just the broad strokes. That there was something you wanted me to do. I think he
possibly
may have guessed what it was. But I tried not to tell him anything, honestly.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. The limo stopped. We were there. “We’ll talk about this later. I’ll have Michael hunt him down and see how much he’s figured out.”

Rachel looked upset. But so was I.

I slid out of the limo onto the red carpet. The event was being held at the biggest ballroom in the city. I held my hand up to the flashing lights and cameras and put on my trademark grimace. I helped Rachel out of the limo. She seemed shocked. I hadn’t prepared her for all of this attention, and that was entirely on me.

I saw Liz and Roger up ahead, but Vince was nowhere to be found. “I forgot to tell you that Vince is sick,” I muttered apologetically to Rachel. I knew that Liz and Roger were together as a platonic date for tonight’s events. I scanned the
Boiler Room
people lined up with the press. I was looking for Scott. I found him, his dour expression casting a shadow around everyone around him. An overly-eager journalist with blinding white teeth was peppering him with questions. He seemed to be delivering monosyllabic answers, but the journalist was unbothered by it. It would make for great B-roll for the ten o’clock news.

B-roll that would run before mine and Rachel’s co-cover story. Because we were the real news here. I knew that would eat at Scott.

Rachel had plastered on a smile. She looked up at me and said through gritted teeth: “Is my makeup too much?”

“No,” I whispered. “Every man in that ballroom is going to want you as his own. But you’re all mine.” Then I swooped her over my arm, dipping her halfway to the ground, and planted a kiss on her that I was sure would turn my lips red.