Filthy Rich: The Billionaire's Baby (A Bad Boy Romance) (2 page)

Denton looks up at Louis for a moment before turning his attention back towards me.

“I don’t pay you to annoy the customers. And I certainly don’t pay you to chase people out of here.”

His bulbous nose wags and his nostrils flare whenever he speaks as if he’s been caught downwind from a never-ending fart, and his large forehead plummets into a weak jaw and stops at a pointy chin.

Old Allie, that sassy voice that I locked away in Cali, was telling me to cuss him out.

First of all, you don’t pay me squat. And speaking of squats, how about you stop skipping leg day, take a break from the bench press,  and use the freaking squat rack.

Ugh, but I need this job.

“I’m sorry Denton, I’ll get straight back to work.”

I was about to turn and walk away when I heard Louis’s voice.

“She’s not disturbing me.” He said.

His body was still facing me, but his head was turned towards Denton.

“Well, I appreciate that, sir, but Ms. Quinn here is working right now, and she can’t spend all of her time on one customer.”

“Why not?” Louis asked.

His body moved towards Denton, and his shadow seemed to engulf the smaller man.

“Time is money, and I’ve got a place to run,” Denton replied. His voice cracked on every second word and, even with the AC pumping through the bar, sweat pooled on his forehead.

“How much is her time worth?” Louis asked matter-of-factly.

I felt like interjecting, but it was too much fun to watch that douchebag sweat.

Louis reached into his pocket and pulled out a black-leather wallet.

“Denton, is it?” Louis asked.

Denton nodded.

“I’ve been coming here all week, and I’ve probably spent more money than everyone else here combined. So, as your best and most valuable customer, I would like to know what it would take for you to let Allie here finish up a little early.”

“Five… Ten… Fifteen…” Denton stuttered, his face now a pool of sweat.

Louis took out five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills and squeezed them into the pocket of Denton’s skin-tight denim jeans.

“Denton, I’ve been coming here all week, and I’ve been watching you almost as much as I’ve been watching her. I’ve seen the looks you’ve given her, and I’ve heard some of the things you said—“

Denton looks as if he’s just stepped out of the shower, and I’m feeling a little wet myself. I’ve never seen anyone speak to him like that before. I’ve never seen anyone speak to anyone like that before.

“She’s finished work for the night, and she might be a little late tomorrow. Is that going to be a problem?”

Denton shook his head like a dog that just hopped out of the pool. I had to step to avoid getting hit by stray droplets.

“And I assume you’re going to be a little nicer to her from now on, right?”

Denton nodded slowly.

“Good. Because if I hear you speak to her like that—“

“And Molly,” I interject. Molly’s hips are resting against the bar, and her childlike smile tells me that she’s enjoying the show. She gives a thumb of approval and a told-you-so wink
.

“If you ever speak to her
or
Molly
like that ever again I’m going to come down here, and I’m going to buy this bar. And I’ll buy any fucking bar or restaurant café that you ever work in again. Shit, if you open a hotdog stand, I’ll buy the street corner you’re parked on and kick your ass to the fucking curb. Understand?”

Denton nodded before turning towards me and forcing a smile.

“Allie, you’ve been working so hard this week. Why don’t you take the weekend off?”

I grab my jacket from behind the bar and lean against Molly for a no-hands hug.

“Told you so,” She whispered.

I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.

The cold night air hits me like a splash of water on a late morning. Louis is right behind me, and I’m tempted to look over my shoulder to see if he’s telling hipster’s that he’ll buy the Starbucks they work at if they ever bump into him again.

He cuts an intimidating figure, but I feel entirely safe with him. He’s like a tank: you don’t want to see him hurdling towards you, but you’d be nice and cozy if you were inside of him. Er, not the best analogy (maybe I’m the tank, and he should be inside of me?) but I’ve not been this giddy for a long time.

“So, what now?” I ask as I spin towards him.

Louis pulls his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and starts dialing.

“Yeah, I’m waiting outside.” He says before hanging up.

We share another moment. One of those moments where you stare at a guy’s face and hope he’s thinking and feeling what you’re thinking and feeling.

“The car will be around in a few minutes, but if you don’t feel like waiting, we can call a cab.”

Jeez, I’d prefer to walk. I’ve had nothing but bad experiences with New York cabbies, and I still haven’t gotten used to the fact that they wave hello with a middle finger.

“We can wait, it gives us a chance to talk.”

Crickets.

We both just stare at each other. Confidence oozes out of Louis but he seems like he’s lost for words, and it’s certainly not nerves; his hands are steady, and his stare is piercing.

I was just about to say something when the bar door opened, and a couple poured out onto the street. They swayed in the wind and leaned on each other for support—like a human teepee.

Taking his hand, I dragged Louis towards the alley at the side of the bar.

“We can wait here for your limo to arrive.”

“How did you know it was a limo?” He smiled.

I didn’t. I was just joking. Really, a limo? Last time I was in a limousine was prom; hope I don’t throw up this time.

Louis stepped forward and pressed his body close to mine until there was nothing between us but sexual tension. He makes me feel like me again: that girl from California that wasn’t afraid to take a couple of risks. She wouldn’t run halfway across the country because of a guy. She wouldn’t sit in bed all day afraid that he might show up. She wouldn’t let a moment like this pass her by.

“Where’s that damn car,” I whispered as I tipped my head back and pointed my lips at his chin.

“Limo, remember?” He said as he leaned forward.

My breath quickened and my heart pounded.

Louis licked his dry lips as his eyes explored my body. He didn’t play coy or try to hide his desire. He didn’t try to play it cool or pretend that he was a perfect gentleman (even if he was dressed like one).

Louis stared at my cleavage—which was looking quite nice, I must admit, in my pink strapless dress—and he made no apologies for his wondering eyes.

His mouth hovered just above me, just high enough that his lips were out of reach. We stood there for New York minute, but it felt like an hour.

The cold air crawled up my leg like a spider, but it didn’t cool my want or my need. My breath was as clear as a smoker’s first puff and, with only the street light’s and the moon to keep us company, I watched as my breath bounced against his cheek.

He didn’t recoil in horror, so I don’t need a breath mint, but if he doesn’t kiss me soon, I think I might explode. Finally, he closed the last few inches of distance between us and pressed his saliva-wet lips against mine: my first kiss in the Empire State.

His hands, which felt more like catcher’s mitts, gripped my shoulders, and I felt my core tighten. I’ve only ever kissed two men before tonight, one was TJ, and the other was my prom date that shall remain nameless (and trust me, that guy did recoil in horror when he kissed me goodnight after a night of teenage drinking and a topsy-turvy limo ride home).

He tasted of peppermint and rum, but mostly peppermint. He must’ve slipped a breath mint before we got outside. His beard warmed my cheeks. I reached up and took a handful of his puppy-soft hair and pulled him closer. I could feel his lips open, and my knee’s danced when I felt his powerful tongue.

His strong tongue quickly overpowered mine. He explored my mouth as his hands explored my body. His giant catcher’s mitts moved down my body and rested on my hips before moving up towards my chest. Nothing could break our kiss, not even the had-a-few-too-many drunkards that were pouring out onto the street.

A hand glided up my body towards my breast, and not even the fear of getting caught was enough for me to ask him to stop. My nipples tightened into a point as he pushed his body forward and pressed me against the cold concrete wall.

Letting go of his now-tousled (thanks to me) hair, I reached forward and clutched his belt.

That condescending voice that TJ beat into my head piped up again.

You can’t do this!

But my old, confident California voice drown it out.

Shut your Ben & Jerry’s Boston Cream Pie-hole.

My hand moved further south as my confidence grew, and a moan fell from my lips when I felt the girth of his cock through his expensive trousers. If his hands are mitt’s, then I think I’ve found the bat.

I struggled at his zipper as he moved from my lips to my neck. Soft kisses moved down my body as I struggled to open his pants.

“Do you have a condom?” I whispered.

The kisses slowed. Then they stopped.

Louis took both my hands in his and pressed them above my head. He was able to pin both of my hands to the wall with just one. His free hand cupped my head, and he dragged his finger along my jaw like it was the rim of his glass.

“About that…” He whispered as a long black limousine pulled up outside of the bar.

***

The warmth I felt in the alley stayed there, and I’m left with the cold. Molly has texted three times already, but I don’t know what to say. What can I say?

Marriage?

Kids?

I thought he just wanted to fuck. Now I just want to get home and forget all about Louis Kingsley.

He made it all sound so reasonable. Like this was a thing that happens in every alley in America. He wants a son. Someone to carry his name. And he needs a wife. Someone stable and motherly that is worthy of the Kingsley name.

I thought he wanted
me,
turns out he just needs an incubator.

But a part of me wonders what it would be like. To be his wife and to carry his child. To create something, someone, that is a mixture of the two of us. I came to New York to be safe, but the first time I felt safe in years was when Louis pressed his body against mine.

There’s no way TJ would be able to hurt me if Louis was around. And any kid that we’d have together would be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, ears, and nose. No more Denton. No more coming home at night stinking of booze and sweat and regret.

I clutched at my bag and thought of Louis. He gave me his business card.

Call me anytime,
he said.

Right now I need a warm bath and a cold shower. The bath to get this New York weather out of my bones and the shower to get Louis Kingsley out of my mind.

My phone vibrated in the cute floral-pattern tote bag that dad gave me before I left home. I stopped to answer. Maybe Molly can help. She always does. I reached inside, but a clammy hand snatched at my wrist before I could reach my phone.

“Clint Howard, that’s hysterical,” he said.

His red curls were blowing in the wind, and the muscles on his forearms twitched as he rolled his wrists around.

“Excuse me?” I asked as I looked down to avoid his buggy eyes.

My voice cracked more than Denton’s did when he was eyeball-to-nipple with Louis.

“Back in the bar. What was it you said again? Oh, that’s right, you said that I look like Ron Howard’s weirdo brother. His name is Clint, by the way. I Googled it when you and your boyfriend were dry-humping in the alleyway.”

If only I could go back to the alley and get my confidence back; I’m sure I left it on the floor somewhere.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mutter.

“Oh, so you’re single then?”

He steps towards me with a smile-scowl on his face. I jump back and the heel of my favorite shoe snaps like a twig. The bug-eyed man lunges forward and holds me upright with his slimy hands.

“No,” I reply as I shrug him off, “I have a boyfriend; fiancé, actually. He’s a cop… a detective.”

“Not much of a detective if his fiancée is getting finger-banged behind a bar.”

“We didn’t… He didn’t… It was just a kiss.”

My breaths are quick and sharp and visible. My entire body is trembling, and the cold has little to do with it.

“Still, you don’t want anybody getting the wrong idea. Maybe I should come back there with you and explain what happened. That the guy forced himself on you and you did everything you could to fight him off.”

His eyes warmed as they traveled my body. He looked at my tits without shame, but his gaze just felt dirty and seedy. My apartment’s just two blocks away. Molly’s at work and will be for another hour. Two if she decides to have a drink. Meaning she won’t be home for two hours.