Filthy Rich: The Billionaire's Baby (A Bad Boy Romance) (3 page)

Tonight has been a night of swinging confidence. Up and down, left and right. One minute I feel like I can take on the world, and the next it feels like the world is beating me down. My lips open to scream for help when I think of Louis and the way he spoke to Denton: the power, the dominance, the confidence.

It’s not just the way he made me feel, but the way he made me feel about
me.
That I was beautiful and sexy and worthy of a man like Louis Kingsley. I dragged my finger along the edge of the business card that he gave me as I pulled my hand out from my bag.

“That would be so kind of you. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

His large eyes widened even further. We both knew I was lying about the detective boyfriend. That’s why he’s trying to invite himself up. I still don’t see a trench coat or a van, but I’m not going to risk finding out if he does model the entire To-Catch-A-Predator ensemble.

“It’s just about five blocks up the street,” I lie as I slowly slip out of my broken Jimmy Choo’s knockoff.

One shoe stays on the old concrete and the other travels north towards his south. I kick him so hard between the legs that he collapses to a knee. The sound of my make-up filled tote bag hitting his face barely masks his screams.

He crumbles to the floor and mutters
bitch
and
slut
as I kick my ball-busting shoe at his face. With my self-defense tote-bag clutched to my chest, I run barefooted towards my apartment as the bug-eyed man sucks air.

***

Breathless, I burst through my apartment door and close it behind me. I rest my head against the peeling green paint of the oak before shaking loose flecks from my hair.

That’s the bravest thing I’ve done for a long, long time.

Our small (or cozy, as Molly prefers) apartment isn't much to look at, but it’s home, and it feels good to be behind four walls and a door. I place my battle-seasoned tote-bag on the counter next to an empty carton of hair-dye that Molly promised to throw away and open the fridge to grab some beef jerky because I’m in no mood to cook or to wait for takeout to arrive.

I kick the fridge door closed with my New York-pavement-dirty feet and spare a thought for my favorite shoes. After two mouthfuls of beef jerky, I’m ready for that warm bath.

The running water soothes my nerves, and I forget the bug-eyed man; he knows where I work, but I’ve got the weekend off. I’ll get my butt down to the police station first thing tomorrow, just in case. Might even meet a cute-and-totally-not-imaginary detective. Real or not, I doubt he’d make me feel as warm (or wet) as Louis Kingsley.

I close my eyes and think of the alley. Of that kiss that I shared with Louis Kingsley. The heat I felt when he was pressed against me returns, but it disappears again when I hear hard knuckles bouncing off of my apartment door.

He didn’t follow me. I’m sure of it. I didn’t turn back when I was running (not even when I heard the toe-curling screech of tires on pavement), but I stopped at the door of my building, and he was nowhere to be seen.

God, maybe he was lurking in the shadows.

I sit on the edge of the tub and take short deep breaths to calm my nerves. He might’ve watched me enter the building, but he sure as hell didn’t see me going into my apartment. Maybe it’s a neighbor dropping off some misplaced mail. Or it could be Molly…

Of course.

Molly. One loud knock to see if I’d answer. She must be waiting outside, afraid that she might walk in on Louis and me halfway through…

I lift myself from the tub and make my way towards the living room. There’s a white, ink-wet sheet on paper lying faced down on the battered wood of the apartment floor.

Not Molly then.

My knees click as I bend down to pick up the page, and they click again when I jump back to my feet.

Panic stabbed at my chest.

No.

No.

Fuck No.

Spinning around, I stretch for my tote-bag and knock it to the floor. It explodes like a make-up IED and some shrapnel (rose-tinted lip balm) just misses my head. Clutching my phone, I drag a trembling finger across the screen until I reach my contacts list as I mutter
dad, dad, dad, dad,
and think of my father that’s on the other side of the country.

My finger hovered over the call button when I noticed the black ink scribble on the back of his business card.

Call me anytime – Louis.

Her panicked voice burst through the phone and wrapped around my neck like a noose. Whatever man did that to her—whoever made her cry and wheeze and beg—will curse his mother’s name for giving birth to him if we ever cross paths.

I sent the car to fetch her, I would’ve gone myself if it wasn’t for all of the drinks I had at the bar when I was cooking up ways to ask her to… well, to have my child. She invited me to come stay with her, but her voice told me that she needed to get out of her apartment for the night.

The way she spoke to me in the alley, I thought I’d never hear from her again. Well, not until her shift started on Monday: Kingsley’s don’t give up that easily. I fixed up the spare bedroom for her in case she’s tired, and I cleaned my own room in case she’s not.

The sound of the key in the door dragged me from the bedroom. I rushed towards the door, and her arms were around my neck before I could say a word. Smith, my driver, nodded his head to tell me that nobody was lurking outside of her apartment when he arrived.

Smith placed her stuff—I say stuff, it was just a rose-and-tulip covered tote bag—just inside the door and closed it behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said through sniffles, “I didn’t know who to call.”

“You did the right thing,” I said as I pulled her in close.

I rested my chin on her head. She gripped my t-shirt tight and used my chest as a pillow. She didn’t say much on the phone. Just sniffles and tears and whimpers. The only words I caught were
him
and
he
and
how.

“Allie, I know you’re upset, but I need you to tell me what happened so that I can fix this for you.”

She tightened her grip; I did the same.

“Was it that guy from the bar?” I asked.

She didn’t reply.

We stood there like that for a moment, and I forgot about Kingsley International and my father and birthrights. She needed me, and I wanted to be needed.

The crying stopped as she pulled her head from my shirt. Her lip curled again when she noticed the make-up stain that she’d left behind.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, “I know it must be expensive.”

It was. Who cares. Allie needed me.

“Nah, it’s just something I sleep in.”

A half-truth to calm her nerves.

“Allie, I know this isn't easy, but I need you to tell me what happened. Was it the guy from the bar?”

“No,” she replied.

I raise an eyebrow. Something else must’ve happened.

“It’s TJ. My ex-boyfriend. He’s found me.”

She sauntered towards her bag with slumped shoulders. She reached into the bag and pulled out a sheet of paper. Allie clutched the paper to her chest as she looked at me with those large sea-green eyes. I could get lost in those eyes.

“Did you mean what you said?”

I nodded my head. I meant it when I said it and my desire’s only growing stronger.

“And you can protect me?”

“Allie, what do you need protection from?” I asked.

She handed me the paper. A woman—I think it’s a woman, it could be a man with long hair. The swelling and the bandages cover his or her face, and his or her features are almost lost—lying in a hospital bed. Cuts and bruises and marks and a large gash on the right cheek. I look up to find Allie rubbing her finger along a scar on her face.

My hands tremble so hard and fast that the paper almost tears. It felt like I’d been punched in the gut. It’s her, beaten beyond recognition. Her swollen cheeks forcing her sea-green eyes shut. Her perfect skin scared and bruised.

I didn’t notice the scar in the dark bar or maybe I did and thought nothing of it. It’s the length of a quarter but thin and almost invisible under the make-up now coating my shirt.

“Allie, you need to tell me where to find this guy. This TJ.”

My voice is cold and emotionless, but the rage in my gut feels like it’s about to explode. Allie doesn’t need shouting or screaming right now. She needs calm. She needs me.

“I don’t find him. He finds me. He always finds me.”

“I have friends. I know people that can find him. We can get justice for…”

“Justice?” She mutters “He’s not on the run or hiding or anything like that. He’s never seen the inside of a cell and he never well.”

He’ll see the inside of a self-dug grave if I ever get my hands on him.

I wrapped my arm around her and guided her towards the sofa. She plopped down and curled her legs to her chest.

“He was a needy guy. Like, needy-needy. It’s cute when you’re a Freshman and starting a new life, but it gets a little old when you’re a Senior. He was always there. Always. If I took more than a couple of minutes in the bathroom, he’d text. Five minutes and he’d call. And when I finally finished he’d be standing by the door.”

I nodded my head and bit my bottom lip. I knew guys like that in college. I have no time for them. Half of them are self-loathing ticking time bombs just waiting to unleash their misplaced anger.

“It was all too much,” she continued, “I had work and finals and fucking life. I’d get two or three hours a day to relax, and I’d spend it arguing with him. I broke up with him and…”

“And he did this?” I said as I looked at the piece of paper. He’d scribbled ‘ICU’ on the top in red ink and dotted the I with a heart. Inside were the initials TJ and AQ.

“That’s the thing. TJ had an alibi. All of his friends, all of those boys that were so sweet when we were together, said that he was playing beer pong at the fraternity all night.”

The thought of asking her if there was any truth to that didn’t even cross my mind. I’ve dealt with weak men before, and only weak men do what that monster did to her.

“I almost believed it myself until…”

“Until what, Allie?”

“He came to see me every day. Brought me candy and pictures and get well cards from the girls at school. When I was finally able to speak, he asked me if we could get back together. I said no and…”

I cupped her face in my hand and dragged her head towards my shoulder. My body trembled with anger, but I was able to quell the rage enough to stop her from worrying.

“Allie, you need to tell me everything you know about this guy.”

She nodded her head against my shoulder.

“I was going to call my dad. He always knows what to say when I’m upset.”

“He sounds like a good man, I’d like to meet him some time.”

“How about when he walks me down the aisle?”

She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes. The crying had stopped, but the whites of her eyes were still glossy from the tears. She climbed onto my lap, straddled my body and stared.

I gripped her hips as she grinded her ass against my hardening cock.

“Isn't that what you want?” She asked, “Isn’t that what you need? A wife and a mother for your son?”

I nodded my head softly as I gripped her butt. I pulled her cheeks apart as the heat from her pussy warmed my lap. A loose curl fell over her face, but neither of us moved.

Sitting up, I hooked my arms around the back of her knees and stood up with her pressed against my chest. She smiled as that bastard slipped from her mind. I dropped her down onto the couch and reached for my shirt when I noticed the dirt on the soles of her feet.

A knot tied in my stomach and needed to sit. Resting on the edge of the nearby coffee table, I reached for a sheet of paper and a pen.

“You’ve had a long night. Fuck, you’ve had a long few years by the sound of things. I want you. Bad. But I’m not going to take advantage of you…”

“You’re not taking advantage of me…” She replied.

I take the pen and place it in her hand.

“Allie, I need you to listen to me. I’ve been a billionaire since the day I was born, and I’ve always gotten—or taken—whatever I want whenever I want. You’re the first thing in my life worth waiting for. I need you to take this pen, and I want you to write down everything you know about this TJ character.”

“We haven’t spoken in so long…”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m willing to bet that this guy isn't as smart as he likes to think. Guys like him never are. Write down where he lived in California and anything else you know about him.”

She sat up on the couch and leaned forward. The disappointment was obvious from her body language.

“And then?” She asked as she peeled her eyes from the floor.

I took her hand and helped her to her feet. Worried that her filthy feet would dirty the carpet, she lifted herself up to her toes. I pushed her softly with a finger and smiled as her heels hit the brand-new Persian rug.

“Take a shower and try to relax.”

“And then?” She asked.

Her eyes are full of want.

“You’ve had a good day and a bad day. Half good and half bad. Wash the bad off and, when your body is clean, and your mind is fresh, you can decide how you want the night to end.”

“I already know what I want.” She replied.

“And, if you still feel that way when you get out of the shower, my room is at the end of the hall.”

She smiled as she reached for the paper and started to write. I took the note that TJ slipped under her door and made my way towards my office.

I picked up my phone and dialed.

“Rex, I’m going to need a favor.”

…

“Yeah, yeah, it’s been a busy night. Look, I’ll owe you one. Yeah, another one.”

…

“I’ll call you when I’ve got more details.”