Beauty and the Billionaire (BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB NOVEL) (22 page)

Chapter 13

Even a week later, Hunter still craved her.

He’d fucked up somehow; he’d offended her with his offer and instead of going back to his bed and resuming their stable relationship full of lies, she’d left him.

He felt more alone than ever before.

There was Eldon, of course, but Eldon was hired to assist him with tasks, not to offer companionship. He’d preferred that for so long, and yet now? Now the house seemed too quiet, too lonely.

Hunter hadn’t realized how quickly Gretchen had changed his life. How much he’d had to look forward to now that she was in it. When he reached across the bed, it was empty. There was no warm, cheerful smile to wake him in the morning, no one to bring him coffee before turning to her own work. No one to walk through the gardens with. No one to appreciate his efforts in the greenhouse. No one to talk over his day with. No one to caress and hold and love. No one to say bold, exciting things to shock him out of his shell.

He needed Gretchen back.

Rubbing his face to clear his mind, Hunter scanned the ever-growing list of unopened emails in his inbox. For some reason, he hadn’t had much of an appetite for work this week, and things were piling up. He scanned them with disinterest, pausing at Preston Stewart’s name. He clicked on it.

Buchanan,

It seems we’re in need of a new ghostwriter for our launch book. Any suggestions? Let me know who you have in mind.

Preston

Hunter immediately dialed the man’s phone number, his heart pounding.

“Preston Stewart speaking.”

“Why do we need a new ghostwriter?”

“Ah. Mr. Buchanan. Very nice to talk to you again. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the party the—”

“Explain to me,” Hunter said, cutting in through the editor’s niceties, “why we need a new ghostwriter.”

“Well,” Preston said. “I got a call from Ms. Petty’s agent earlier today. She’s off the project. Since we haven’t signed anything, there’s no money to collect as of yet. Kat and I were still working on negotiations—”

“What do you mean, she’s off the project?”

“I mean she quit. She doesn’t want to do it.”

“Did you offer her more money?”
Gretchen needed that money, didn’t she?

The editor laughed. “Mr. Buchanan, that’s not how publishing works. I—”

Hunter hung up. He stared at the phone, thinking. Gretchen had quit. To teach him another lesson? But her agent had said she needed money. He didn’t understand.

Damn it, he didn’t understand women. He didn’t understand any of this. Frowning, he thought to himself for a moment, then stared at his monitor. He wanted to call Gretchen’s agent, see what was going on. He didn’t remember her name, though. Kat something. That wouldn’t get him very far. There were a million agents in New York City. He drummed his fingers, thinking.

Then he jolted to his feet. Of course. Logan’s assistant was Gretchen’s sister. She’d know where Gretchen went off to . . . and she’d know why Gretchen declined the contract. He wanted answers.

Hunter hit the speaker button on his phone. “Eldon?”

“Yes, Mr. Buchanan?” The assistant’s voice was as cool and monotone as ever.

“Bring the car around. I need to go out.”

He waited for Eldon to ask where. To protest. To tell him he was busy and couldn’t drop everything at a moment’s notice. To crack a joke.

Something.

But all Eldon said was “Of course.”

Hunter was on edge the entire drive. Traffic was bad this time of day, and he had to bite back his impatience. It wouldn’t do any good to lose his temper at Eldon since he wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.

Eventually they pulled up in front of Hawkings Conglomorate’s primary office building. “Wait here,” Hunter said in a clipped voice. He got out of the back of the sedan before Eldon could get out to open his door. “I’ll be back shortly.” He slammed the door to the sedan and crossed the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians. Normally he’d tense up, his nerves on edge, waiting for people to stare at his face and flinch. To stagger backward and move out of his way.

Today, he didn’t have time for any of that bullshit.

He headed into the building, ignored the lobby full of people, and headed for the elevator. The receptionist didn’t stop him because he was a recognizable face and had been here several times before. Jamming the button on the elevator, he impatiently waited for it to rise to the top floor. When it did, he stalked down the hall to Logan Hawkings’s office.

Audrey would be there. And she would know where Gretchen was and why she’d refused the contract that he’d more or less put together specifically for her.

But when he burst into Logan’s office, the secretary’s desk was empty.

Hunter gritted his teeth in frustration. Was fate working against him? He raked a hand through his hair and then pushed open the door to Logan’s office.

Logan had his feet kicked up on the corner of his desk, a headset on. He was obviously on a conference call. He frowned at Hunter’s burst into his office and toggled a button on his headset, speaking into the microphone. “I’ve had something come up. Someone send me the meeting notes when you’re done.” He disconnected the call and swung his feet down from the desk, casting an irritated look at Hunter. “Don’t you knock?”

“Where’s Audrey?” A sharp burst of fear hit him. What if Gretchen left town just like Brontë had? Logan had had hunted her down, only to find out that she was right under his nose. He didn’t want Gretchen leaving. He wanted her back, damn it.

“Probably getting my lunch from the cafe downstairs. Calm the fuck down. What’s wrong with you?” Logan’s brows furrowed.

“I need to find Gretchen.” Hunter moved in front of Logan’s desk, ignoring the chair offered to him. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace.

“So you admit that you fucked up?”

He gave Logan a scathing look. “What are you talking about? What do you know?”

Logan shrugged, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair, his pose far too leisurely to suit Hunter. “I know that Brontë’s been talking to Gretchen.”

“And?”

“And,” Logan stressed, “she says she’s really upset. Cries a lot. You fucked it up, didn’t you?”

He’d thought Gretchen was angry at him. She was crying? Hunter’s heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest. “What did she say?”

“First you tell me what you did.”

Hunter collapsed in the chair, frustrated with the situation. With everything. “She found out the project was a sham.”

“And that made her cry? Damn, she’s a sensitive type, isn’t she? I wouldn’t have pictured her as the type—”

“Then I accused her of sleeping with me for money.”

“Ah.”

“And then when she was packing, I told her that I didn’t care if she loved me or not. I’d pay her to use her body regardless of how she felt.” Now that he was recounting it, it sounded awful even to his own ears. “She turned it down.”

Logan grimaced. “Yeah. I’d say you fucked it up.”

“Shit.” Hunter suddenly felt weary. “I thought for sure that she was using me for my money. Her agent said—”

“Her agent thinks everything’s about money,” a tart female voice interrupted. “Or didn’t Gretchen tell you that?” Audrey strolled forward and came into sight, no-nonsense in a stern bun and oatmeal-colored tweed, her round face scowling. “Or were you too busy calling her a whore and a money grubber?”

“Audrey, this is not the place—” Logan began.

“The door was open,” Audrey replied in a cool voice. “I’m sorry. I overheard. I’ll leave.”

“No! Stay.” Hunter studied Gretchen’s sister. “What makes you so sure she wasn’t with me for my money?”

Audrey’s mouth drew into a thin line. “Because,” she bit out. “If she wanted to freeload off someone, she’d freeload off Daphne, who has millions. Or Cooper, who’s so in love with her that he’d buy her whatever she wants. Why would she need to sleep with someone for that?”

Hunter’s hands clenched into fists. Cooper. The friend who was in love with her. That bastard had better stay away from his woman.

“I suppose the better question is, what made you think Gretchen wanted you for your money?” Audrey asked. “Did she ever give you reason to think that?”

“Every time she looked at me,” he snarled. “I’m supposed to believe that she wants to be with this?” He gestured abruptly at his face, at the scars that were impossible to miss, that distorted the side of his face.

Audrey’s cold expression softened. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m a monster.”

“My sister’s a romantic,” Audrey told him. “Maybe she likes monsters.”

He didn’t care. He just wanted Gretchen back in his bed. In his life. Laughing and smiling and bringing brightness and joy to every corner of his life. “Why’d she turn down the writing project? She needs the money.”

“She doesn’t need the money that bad,” Audrey said, sidling towards Logan’s desk and setting down a paper-wrapped sub, along with a soda. “She’d rather be broke than work on that project a moment longer.”

Because he’d fucked it up. He’d had a woman—a smart, funny, beautiful woman who loved him for him and didn’t give a shit about his hideous face—and he’d somehow driven her away.

He’d been so utterly convinced that he was unlovable that he’d pushed away the only person who had given him kindness and affection. He’d been so broken that he automatically assumed the worst.

But he needed Gretchen. And he’d do anything to have her return to his side. “How do I get her back?”

“Groveling,” Logan pointed out. “Take it from me. Lots of groveling.”

Audrey’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile. “That’s a start.”

Chapter 14

Gretchen turned the page in her paperback and reached for another Kleenex, weeping.

“You okay?” To her side, Cooper was scooping out coffee beans to put into the grinder. He gave her a concerned look.

“Yeah.” She sniffed and waved the paperback. “It’s just my book.”

“Sad ending?”

“Something like that,” she mumbled, dog-earing the page and tucking the book under the counter. Actually, it was a romance. Audrey read the darn things like crazy, and her house had been full of them. Gretchen had picked one up on a whim and then been unable to stop reading them. The stories were so perfect. Even though bad things happened to the hero and heroine, everything would turn out okay in the end. They always did. She’d teared up when the hero had admitted love for the heroine, and then the heroine had joyfully exclaimed that she’d loved him back as they’d galloped on horseback to the hero’s castle. The epilogue was full of sweet cuddling and hints of future babies. It was saccharine and ridiculous.

And she could not stop crying over it.

Her own relationship? Hadn’t exactly been that clean cut, that fairy-tale wonderful. She’d gotten the admission of love, but she’d chickened out. Of course, then her Prince Charming had accused her of wanting him for his money, and more or less called her a gold-digging slut.

Strange how being called a whore by the man you loved tended to hurt so much, she thought wryly.

Gretchen opened up the back of the glass pastry counter and began to add some of the fresh-baked cookies she’d made to the decorative plates in the front. Some things just didn’t work out like the stories, she supposed. Some people were too damaged.

Even as she thought it, she scowled. There was no reason for her to be thinking like that. The only thing damaged on Hunter was his damn pride.

Gretchen picked off a wedge of broken cookie and tossed it in the garbage. Hunter needed to get over that hang-up about his face and come to terms with the fact that not everyone was out to get him. He needed to learn how to trust people.

“You sure you’re okay?” Cooper said, coming to her side. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, then dropped his hand. “I hate seeing you so unhappy.”

“I’m fine, really,” she told him, but couldn’t force a cheerful smile to her mouth. Things were still awkward with Cooper. She’d come back to work because she needed money—though not badly enough to beg druggie Daphne—and because she was driving Audrey crazy after a week of lounging on her couch in her pajamas. Even Igor seemed to be giving her cranky looks.

But Cooper was still hovering in a way that made Gretchen edgy. Any minute now, she expected to turn around and see him ready to confess his love again. They were nothing but friends, but—

“Gretchen,” Cooper began, his voice soft.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, Cooper, please don’t—”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know. It’s weird between us right now, isn’t it? I should have never said anything.”

He sounded so unhappy with himself that she winced. “It’s not that, Cooper. I just . . . wish we could go back to the way things were before, you know?”

“Before I gave you my heart and you stomped it to pieces?”

Gretchen turned, her eyes wide in shock. “I—”

“I’m kidding,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I’ll be honest, I wish things could be different between you and me. But even what we had before was better than what we have now. I know you don’t care for me the way I care for you. And that’s fine, Gretchen. But it hurts me that we can’t even be friends anymore. I’d rather we acknowledge the problem, move past it, and get back to being just Gretchen and Cooper.”

Her eyes began to water again, and she sniffed, reaching for the wads of Kleenex she had stuffed in her apron. “I’m so sorry, Coop.”

“Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t apologize.” He reached out and pulled her into a friendly, warm hug. “I’m sorry I got all weird on you when you needed a friend the most.”

She wrapped her arms around him, sniffing hard. “You’re such a good friend. I’m not normally this emotional.”

“I know,” he said dryly, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

She clung to him for a moment, enjoying the hug and the simple comfort of a friend. “I’m glad that we’re going to go back to just being Gretchen and Coop,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “And I’m sorry I didn’t fall in love with you. If I could have picked to fall in love with someone, it would have been you.”

He chuckled, and for once, there was no pain or sadness in it. “It’s okay, Gretch. I know you’re in love with Buchanan. It was obvious as soon as I saw him with you. You lit up around him in a way I’ve never seen. I’ve had a few weeks to get over you now.”

She smiled over his shoulder, opening her eyes and gazing out into the coffee shop.

Behind them, a scarred man in a long tailored jacket stood in the doorway of the coffee shop, a dozen roses in his hand. He wore sunglasses despite the cloudy weather, as if it might obscure the scars on his face—and he was watching her hug it out with Cooper. Then, he took the glasses off, and she felt sick with dread.

Hunter’s heart was in his eyes, and it was being broken all over again.

The man had shit timing.

“Hunter,” Gretchen gasped, pulling away from Cooper.

Hunter’s mouth tightened. He said nothing, simply turned and walked back out of the coffee shop. As she watched him disappear into the crowd, he tossed the roses into the nearest waste bin.

She felt as thrown away as those roses in that moment. Everything was all messed up again.

Even as she asked herself why she cared, Gretchen pulled out of Cooper’s embrace and dashed out from behind the counter, crossing the coffee shop quickly and bursting through the door.

The streets were busy, but not so busy that she couldn’t pick Hunter’s bulkier form out of the group. That, and his stiff, angry stance and the way people paused when they glanced at his face.

She raced after him. “Hunter!”

He ignored her, his shoulders set.

“Hunter Buchanan.” Gretchen planted her feet, fists clenched. “Turn around, damn it, or I’m going to run straight into all this traffic.”

He slowly turned around, a good twenty feet from her on the bustling sidewalk. He didn’t move forward and his hands were stuffed into his coat pockets. “What do you want?”

She paused at the icy tone of his voice. “You were bringing me flowers?”

“I was not.”

“Really? I suppose you just throw flowers into every garbage can outside of a coffee shop, then?”

When he flushed, she had to hide her grin of delight. Why was it that she loved teasing Hunter so very, very much? She’d fallen back into her comfortable sense of joy with him, forgetting all about that he’d broken her heart.

“I threw them away,” he bit out after a moment.

“I noticed. You shouldn’t have.”

“Why not? It’s clear you’ve moved on. Anything I say will fall on deaf ears.” His jaw clenched furiously.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Were you coming to apologize?”

He gave her a mutinous look.

“Then why does it matter if I’ve moved on? You made it clear you just wanted my body. You think I’m for sale.”

“I was wrong. I should have trusted you.” He looked so tortured that she softened for a moment. Just a moment.

“You should have. You should have believed that you can’t buy my affection.”

“What other choice does a man like me have?”

For a moment, she was dumbfounded. What did he mean, a man like him? Then, she realized he meant his face. Did he truly think he was so very hideous that he’d have to purchase affection? Sure, he was scarred, and the scars weren’t pretty. They distorted the one side of his face, but they couldn’t hide the fact that Hunter had a delicious body and a generous, sensitive soul. She remembered his long fingers caressing the petals of a flower and the way he’d smiled as if it were something new and joyous to him to be happy.

Her heart ached. “You’re not ugly, Hunter. Not to me.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe that,” he said in a cold voice. “I’ve had a lifetime of being reassured that I’m only wanted for my fortune.”

“Well, if you don’t believe that, then I guess you don’t have much faith in me,” Gretchen said, her voice light. “And that hurts me that you think I’m that shallow and mercenary.”

For a moment, he looked stricken. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t you? You’re saying I’m an awful person who will only fuck a man if he’s got a fat wallet.” People on the street were starting to stare at them, but she ignored them. If Hunter could stand out here in the middle of New York City having a frank conversation with her, then she certainly could, too. “How do you think that makes me feel?”

He scowled. “Not bad enough, it seems. I see you’ve already moved on to your friend.”

Fury pushed through her and she stomped her way toward him. “Ugh! Will you just listen to yourself for a moment? You’re so convinced that you’re some sort of hideous beast that you think that someone can’t possibly see the true you inside. Yeah, well I saw the true you, buddy.”

Hunter said nothing, but he didn’t pull away. He simply watched her.

She was close enough to touch him now, and she stabbed a finger at his chest. “I saw a man who isolates himself because he’s worried about making other people uncomfortable. I saw a man who doesn’t leave his house very often, but makes sure that the staff is well paid. I saw a man who works all day tirelessly and tends to roses because he enjoys their beauty. I saw a man who expects perfection in himself but is okay with others treating him like dirt. I see a man who shuts out the world because he’s so afraid of getting hurt again. And you tell me I’m the one with the problem? How about you look in the mirror?”

Astonishment crossed his face and his mouth slackened.

“How about you take a long, hard look at that asshole butler of yours? How about you hire someone who you actually enjoy being around? You’re a wonderful person, Hunter. You’re shy but you’re incredibly giving and thoughtful, and you have a poetic soul under all that muscle. If you’re lonely, it’s because you’ve isolated yourself. You have friends!” she exclaimed. “Your buddies thought you were happy at the dinner party and I saw their faces. They were happy for you. Why can’t
you
be happy for you?”

And she jabbed him in the chest with her finger again.

Hunter caught her hand. She was momentarily astonished at how warm he was against her cold skin, and longing flared through her. But when he lifted her hand to try and kiss the palm, she wriggled free.

“No, Hunter,” Gretchen said quietly. “I care about you, I really do. But I’m still mad at you.”

“I want you with me, Gretchen. If you can forgive me for what I said, I want you at my side. I just have a hard time believing that someone as perfect as you would want to be with someone like me.” He looked pained at her rejection, his scars stark on his face.

She wanted to kiss him and make him feel better. She wanted to grab him by his tailored lapels and shake some sense into him. So she just shook her head.

“Am I too late?” Hunter asked in a low, intense voice, full of pain. “Is that it? You’ve moved on? To him?”

Gretchen gave him an exasperated look. “I was sad and Cooper was comforting me. We’re just friends. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

“You were sad?” His attention focused on her words. “Why?”

“Why do you think?”

For some reason, his face broke into one of his rare smiles.

And she found herself smiling back at him. “I’m still mad at you.”

“But you’ll forgive me.”

“Not today.”

“Tomorrow, then.” His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“Maybe not tomorrow. I’m still deciding,” Gretchen told him playfully, and began to walk back to the coffee shop. “You need to make some changes first, though.”

“I will,” he said.

“Good!” she called over her shoulder. “And next time, don’t throw away my roses!”

She didn’t look back as she went inside the coffee shop, but she could have sworn she’d heard him chuckle before she closed the door. A hint of a smile touched her face.

They were good. Sort of. They weren’t great. Hunter needed to come out of his shell. But they were starting in the right direction.

And she smiled.

***

The next day, as Gretchen walked into the coffee shop, she was met by a surprising scene.

Every table was covered in enormous vases full of roses. The interior of the cafe looked more like a florist, and customers were milling around, sniffing the flowers and exclaiming in wonder as they held their lattes.

Every rose was exactly the same color—that icy pale blue-purple that she’d come to associate with Blue Girl. It was the rose she’d told Hunter that she liked the best.

Gretchen unwound her scarf from her neck, feeling warmth throughout her bones. She headed to the counter, unable to stop grinning. She knew who those were from and what they meant.

And while she couldn’t be bought, well, it was a start.

Cooper gave her a relieved look as she arrived. “Thank God you’re here. Did you see this mess?”

“Mess?” she inquired innocently. “I think they’re beautiful.”

“The first delivery showed up a few hours ago, and they’ve been coming in all morning. I think someone bought every purple rose in the entire city.”

“Blue,” she corrected him absently, pulling a long-stemmed rose from one of the vases and smelling it. “They’re blue.”

“Well, there’s no name for the recipient. No sender. Just flowers coming in from every single florist in all of Manhattan. It’s crazy.” He looked frazzled.

Gretchen dragged her fingertips across the bud of the rose, feeling the soft petals and smiling. “I think it’s sweet.”

“I don’t know what to do with all of them.”

“Give them out to customers,” she said, taking scissors and snipping the stem from the rose in her hand and tucking it safely into the pocket of her apron. She’d take this one home tonight.

***

The next day, dozens of yellow roses showed up. The day after that, white roses with pink edges and a delicious scent that was so thick it made her nearly dizzy with delight. The roses never came with a card, but that was okay. Gretchen knew who they were for. Each day, she’d carefully take one of the flowers, wrap it in tissue and tuck it into her apron, and then take it home and press it between the pages of a book, carefully preserving it.