Romance: The Billionaire Alpha Collection (42 page)

Chapter 10

Monday morning arrives on the heels of my shame.

Having not heard from him, I exhale at my silent phone before staring into the bathroom mirror.

“Enough of this. What am I expecting? After steak and fries I give it up without so much as a second thought, run away at sunrise without a word, and what? He’s supposed to call, be my guy, and everything’s going to turn out great? This is no fairy tale, this is my god-awful life. It’s time to find myself a real job; the dream of becoming the proud creator and owner of FloristApp is indeed dead at my feet.”

Kylie pops her head around the door on her way to work.

She’d been great during my cry-fest and self-pity party, trying to help me see the funny side and assuring me I’d done nothing wrong. But to me, I had, and nothing she could say convinced me to the contrary.

“Talking to yourself isn’t a great idea, unless you’re talking sense for a change--in which case I’m all for it,” she smiles.

“I’m talking my kind of sense.”

Her ample chest deflates with disappointment, and perhaps pity fatigue. “I heard the bit about finding a job. Good to be proactive. You’ll soon forget all about--”

I show her my palm. “Don’t say his name or mention the app. I’m done with it. I’m going to need your suit again, I’m afraid. I’ll drop my résumé off everywhere this afternoon and see who bites.”

“Great idea. It’s hanging in the wardrobe, freshly dry-cleaned. I’ll cook us something lovely later, or we could go out. On me?”

“Thanks, but you’re doing enough for me already.” Like a roof over my head, pocket money for transport, use of your wardrobe, the briefcase. Oh, and food. She’s become my mother. “I’ll cook us something, and I’ll take us out with my first paycheck. Can’t wait to start contributing.” I smile, but feel nothing but shit.

A ping on my cell alerts me to the arrival of an email.

“You gonna get that?” Kylie asks, grinning excitedly. “Might be--”

“Don’t say a word!” I tell her, not wanting to talk about him, or test fate. “We both know it’s just spam.” My cell is on the side of the bath so I pick it up--or rather, I snatch it--and open my emails.

“Damn,” I gasp, “He actually did it.”

I proceed to read aloud the message from my bank:

You have received a deposit of one million dollars into your savings account.

Please contact us if any assistance is required.

“What the...?” Kylie’s jaw drops for a long pause, then she speaks. “I thought you said he wouldn’t give you the money after you left him?”

“How can he do this to me?” I’m insulted, disgraced, confused. “Who the hell does he think he is?” But... “Not a word since we, since I...and then this?”

She frowns. “Sorry, what? You’re annoyed with a guy for giving you one million bucks? Abbey, stop and think for a minute.”

After pushing past Kylie, I storm into my room, throw my cell into my handbag, climb into a pair of jeans, and grab a T-shirt and my leather jacket from the wardrobe.

“You want me to think, now, after this colossal level of insult?”

He’s paid me; I’m officially a whore.

I sold my body for one million dollars.

Who does he think he is dealing with?

I shove my head through the T-shirt and tie my hair back with a band from my wrist.

“Insult?” Kylie follows me around, looking perplexed. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“Thinking straight about what? How he’s sent me this message loud and clear: ‘Here you go, whore, here’s the money you earned.’” Pulling on a pair of biker boots, I remember to breathe between growls and I stand, scanning the room and looking for what I need to take with me. “I need to borrow fifty dollars for cab fare.”

“You’re what? You moan about finding one million dollars in your account then ask to borrow fifty bucks? Have you heard yourself?” Kylie yanks her purse from her bag and shoves the money in my hand. “I should lock you in this room until you calm down. Where in hell are you going in such a rush, anyway? What’re you gonna do?”

“Where do you think I’m going? I’m going to tell Zane Richmond where he can stick his money, that’s where.”

“You’re not.” She grasps one of my elbows. “Please stop this: you’ll regret it.”

“Don’t try to stop me,” I say, pushing her out of my way. She flops back on my bed as I run from her brownstone apartment and through the leafy streets of Prospect Heights.

A mixture of nausea and rage build inside me as I climb into the first cab to pull up.

“Take me to the Richmond Building, as quickly as you can.”

Chapter 11

After storming through the huge entrance of Zane’s building, past security and up several flights via the elevator, I arrive at his office.

His perfect secretary greets me with a celebratory smile.

“Oh, good to see you again, Ms. Levin. Congratulations on winning Mr. Richmond’s support for your app. It sounds exciting, and it might even mean I get sent flowers, too.”

Sure, like you never get flowers.

“How do you know about it?”

Of course he told you, most likely in bed.

I bet they had a right old laugh about my being oh-so easy.

“What’s he been saying?” I ask again.

Taken aback by my snipe, she gapes. “Nothing much. I know because I do everything for him, including his banking.”

“Ah, so you put his money in my bank.”

My imagination is now on fire.

“Yes.” She glares at me, an exhibition in Zane’s freak show. “He was excited to tell me about--”

“Stop.” I show her my palm, unable to hear her tell me how excited he was to pay off his whore. “If he told you, none of this should surprise you.”

“None of what?”

“I don’t want his payoff, and I don’t give a shit about how excited he was to tell you about...” I almost say ‘us,’ but pull it back in time. “Me.”

“What?” Scratching her head, she paraphrases. “So you’re saying you don’t want one million dollars?”

“Exactly.”

She remains clueless, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to explain myself.

I shake my head at her but she continues to block my access, outside the boardroom.

“Thing is, Ms. Levin, he hasn’t got any free slot today, so you might need to go away, calm down, and come back tomorrow.”

I’m going to scream at the next person to suggest I calm down. “Get out of my way.”

“Oh.” I try to move her but she’s heavier than she appears. “I’m sure Mr. Richmond will be happy to squeeze you in after his meeting.”

She knows, no!

She thinks I’ve just come here for a quick fuck in the office?!

To  celebrate the money?!

“We already did the damned squeezing,” I snap at her.

I squeezed him inside me, welcoming his cock within my moistened folds.

How wonderful it felt then compared to how dirty and how pissed I feel now.

He can shove his dirty money.

How dare he make me feel this way?

“He’ll see me now, whether he likes it or not.”

“But he’ll be pissed with me... I mean annoyed.”

“Sorry.” I shove her out of my way, powered by shame. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, but this isn’t about you. Neither can it wait.” Closer now, I see him through the glass wall of the conference room, sitting around a table with several other suits. “And there he is, Mr. Whore-maker himself.”

“Mister who?” One hand drags back through her perfect hair. “Please, you don’t want to ruin this for yourself.” With the other, she grabs my arm. “I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.”

After pushing her away again, I shove open the door and walk directly to a wide-eyed Zane. “How dare you?”

“Uh… I think the word you’re looking for is thanks.” He turns to his colleagues. “Sorry gentlemen, we have a live one on our hands here.”

“What, as opposed to a dead one?” I snap at him.

His colleagues snigger, but Zane and I do not.

“And thank you for what? I don’t want your filthy money. I don’t want to feel this...” Suddenly, sadness rains down on me, perhaps because again I’m facing Zane.

The man with whom I’d shared the best evening ever.

I sniff. “Dammit, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

His friendly smile is gone, replaced by a flush of distress and confusion.

Addressing his associates, he says, “Excuse us for five minutes.”

He leaves the table and shepherds me out of the office, leaving the sniggering and bemused lot to guess what’s wrong with the hysterical woman.

Out in the hall, he calls over his perfect secretary.

“We need privacy. We’ll be in my office and no one is to disturb us. Also, tell them I’ll be back as soon as I can. They are not to leave, do you understand?”

“Of course, sir,” the perfect woman smiles. “Sorry, I tried to stop her. She’s clearly very upset about something...”

“Yes”--the outer edges of his eyes droop--“I can see that.”

“I’m here, you know.” I step away from Zane’s hand but willingly follow him to his private office. Privacy is a good idea--I want to have it out with him and not in public.

He pushes me through the door, slams it shut, and turns to me.

“Now, what the hell are you trying to do?”

Chapter 12

A little stunned by his sudden rage, I come back loud but with a shaky voice.

“What am I trying to do? Contrary to what you might assume, sir, I’m not the amoral one here.” I rethought my statement. “Well, not normally.”

“Amoral? I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I know is the meeting you just disrupted is for your app. It was going well too, though who knows what they must be thinking now.”

“My app?” What’s he doing meeting about my app? “They want to talk about FloristApp? How come I don’t know about this?”

“Why not? I’m your partner, and you saw your bank account, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I thought you were paying me off...”

“I’m investing in your app, as we agreed.” He steps forward and lowers his voice. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No, I mean you paid me off. It’s you who got into me, remember?” I voice trials off.

He scoffs. “What?”

When realization hits him his jaw tightens, and I begin to think I’ve made a terrible mistake.

“I mean…” I try to defend myself but confusion rains over me.

“You think I gave you one million dollars... for sex? Am I the kind of guy who needs to buy his way into someone’s panties? And if I did, why pay so much?”

Questioning myself now, seeing how utterly stunned--no, insulted--he is by the mere suggestion, I waver.

No longer shouting, I ask, “Why then?”

“Why what, Abbey?”

“Help me here,” I croak, emotion thickening my throat. “I don’t understand.”

“Look, if you’re going into business, you need to learn to value yourself a lot more than this. If you don’t see why I wanted you, why I want to invest in your idea, in your app, then...” He throws up his arms. “Oh, what’s the point?”

Wanted me.

Past tense?

“Tell me why.”

He frowns. “Why what?”

“Maybe I need to hear why you wanted me, Zane.”

Of course, the last thing I want to hear is why he used to want me, before I gave it up lightning fast.

But I seem to need to torture myself so...

“No”--his eyes shoot open--“whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I slept with you because you’re beautiful, interesting, and sexy as hell. Completely separate to that, I’m investing in you because your idea could make us a lot of money. What more can I say?”

“Oh.” His sincerity seems so explicit; can I be so wrong about his intentions, about mine? “But I felt like such a whore when I woke up the next morning.”

“Oh, Abbey.” He steps away and grabs the hair at his temples. “Just what every man wants to hear.” He yanks his tie open and unbuttons his shirt collar. “You’re the one who walked out on me without so much as a goodbye, but I made you feel like a whore?”

I never thought about it like that.

What an idiot I am.

Jeez, I’m so crap at all this.

“I only left to save us both the embarrassment, because you already got what you wanted.”

“So you think I needed to try you, like a toy?” His jawline is tight, his lips thin. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

I did--I got him so wrong. “Shit, I’m not sure now. I had it all figured out... You’re only the second guy I’ve slept with, you know?”

“You have nothing figured out.” His features soften as he steps closer. “We burned together. Now I won’t lie, I’ve never been the settling-down type...but I can promise you I want to be with you again, and again. And if our burn simmers, but we have moved to another level, superb. If we fizzle out and remain friends, good too. But I promise you, if we stop this thing we’ve started, it won’t be because I’ve cheated on you.” Moving closer still, he adds, “Or because I clipped your wings, Little Bird.”

“Damn.” I swallow the lump in my throat when I peer up at his honey-brown orbs. “I really screwed up, huh?”

“You misjudged me, but you won’t make that mistake again, will you?”

Shaking my head, I try to explain. “Perhaps because we began with business, it felt like sex was part of it--which is so not my thing.”

His eyes focus on my mouth, which is so damned hot.

“Not your thing, got it.” He licks his lips, and I want to kiss him so bad it hurts. “So…” His glare moves up and intrudes upon mine. I feel the burn between us already. “You still enjoy the idea of ‘us’?”

I lower my head, bashful after my banshee performance.

Falling for this incredible man might be easy, but wouldn’t it be a mistake?

He steps closer, the toe of his shoes touching mine.

Applying the tip of his forefinger under my chin, he lifts my head until we make eye contact again. “Yes?”

I can’t lie.

Just seeing him arouses me.

“Yes.”

With a wicked grin, he wraps his arms around me and hoists me up until we’re face to face.

“Let’s have sex again--lots, actually--and accept it has nothing to do with our business relationship. That includes any gifts I choose to bestow, by the way.”

I gulp, holding back the surge of glee as best as I can.

“If you think so too, breathe, kiss me, and stop worrying so much.” He kisses the tip of my nose, and I resist the urge to slip my tongue between his full lips. “Aside from the fun stuff, we have a business to get off the ground.”

“Oh, yeah.” I remember the suits in the office.

Excitement flows through my veins; not only has he invested in my idea, he’s admitted to wanting much more of me too.

I lower my mouth to his.

For a moment, I’m lost in him again…and boy, it feels good.

“Whoa there, Lover,” he says, lowering me to the floor. “Business first.” When I turn to walk to the door, he gropes my bum. “Business first.”

“Hey.” I laugh and slap his hand away. Then I stop cold. “Should I wait in here?”

“Wait? No. Since you made such a scene, I think it’s best if you join us and discuss a few ideas about your app.” He fastens his shirt buttons and straightens his tie. I see my biker boots and cringe. “Figure out who’ll do what, for how much.”

“But I’m a mess, and now they’ll think I’m a hysterical dimwit for turning up all guns blazing.” He tilts his head and rubs his chin while eyeing me up and down.

I grasp at ideas of how I might spin my street style and banshee outburst to my advantage.

Then it comes.

“Unless...”

Zane laughs. “Ha, I knew you’d think of something ingenious. You’re an ideas girl, and every successful business needs ideas. Come on.” He holds out his hand and we return to the boardroom together. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

When we enter, they glare at me.

No doubt terrified I’ll jump on them, baring my teeth.

“Calm down, gentlemen,” I say, wearing my best we-just-had-a-joke-at-your-expense smirk. “We hope you enjoyed the show, but it’s over. I wish I were a fly on the wall listening to your reaction after we left you like that.” I stand at the head of the table, pretending to be super cool. Soon enough, I feel it. “I should introduce myself. I’m Abbey Levin, the creator of FloristApp. What happened earlier was an example of when my app will be... most useful. Spats happen in every relationship, especially the more passionate variety.” I wink at Zane, feeling brave. To my surprise, he winks right back. “When crisis ensues, tempers flare and things are said that we all regret when our temperatures cool. And it’s then, from anywhere in the world, when you’ll reach for my app on your cell phone or tablet.”

It clicks on their faces one by one.

“Ah, I see you... recalling passionate quarrels with lovers.” I focus on the one with a blank expression. “Maybe you worked late when you should’ve attended a dinner she’ arranged. The one she reminded you about umpteen times.”

His blank expression disappears, and I move on to the next guy.

“Maybe you suggested she needed to lose a little weight, you bad boy.”

He blushes and smirks, and I move to the next.

“Maybe you noticed her sad expression, and you just wanted to show her you think about her all the time you’re at work.”

This older guy nods and glances at Zane.

“Whatever the reason, gentlemen, having my app on your phone at your beck and call, whenever the right circumstance arrives, will make sending flowers an extension of an emotion rather than a pain in the ass.”

They laugh and applaud, showing they’re in the pam of my hands.

Zane grins like the cat who caught the mouse, and I am exhilarated.

This is what I love.

This is what I am good at.

I am a woman.

A strong woman.

A business woman.

One who is ready to kick some butts.

By the time the meeting ends, both Zane and I are ready to celebrate our success in the best possible way.