Lost (Bad Boys with Billions Book 1)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “And the ladies who don’t know what to expect?”

  Carol merged into a carpool lane. “They mope, cry, beg, plead. They want a big white dress with a cake and all the trimmings. They think they’ll be the one to finally change him, but it’s just not going to happen. Some of their contracts were for a week. Some, a month, but always—always—Liam gets bored. He fixes things—that’s his passion. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a deal or a down-on-her-luck woman, he has this drive to make everything all better, you know?”

  With every mile, with Carol’s every word, the knot lurking at the back of my throat grew.

  The night on the beach had been but a beautiful dream—much like Liam himself.

  The sooner I not just remembered that, but tattooed it on my freaking forehead, the better off I’d be. At least I had my answer as to what I was even doing here.

  I was merely Liam’s latest project. Nothing and no one special.

  Just another lost girl who needed finding.

  Liam

  “You killed it, man.” Owen shook my hand, but his approval registered with as much appreciation as if he’d just told me I made a mean grilled cheese sandwich. “This merger is going to make millions.”

  So what? I already had billions.

  The fifty people it had taken to complete negotiations and paperwork milled about, patting each other’s backs and pilfering the catering trays no one had wanted to touch during the deal. Now that BelleStarr had been officially absorbed into the Phoenix hive, instead of the jubilance I used to feel after securing an acquisition, I felt numb.

  I stood at the twentieth-floor conference room window, looking out onto Palo Alto and the world in which I’d once felt so at ease. Manicured perfection so sterile and pristine it could be the set of a utopian sci-fi flick. I used to live for this shit. I’d needed to know everything was in place. Not just my employees, but the rocks and trees and grass and signage. I used to micromanage. Today, I didn’t care.

  The only thing that excited me wasn’t a thing, but a girl. Ella.

  Where was she now? Already in the city? Reunited with Willow?

  I wanted Ella with me. Thinking of her with her drunk-ass friend made me jerk an orchid from a side-table floral arrangement. I crushed it.

  “What’d that poor flower do to you?” Owen turned the stark arrangement toward the window to hide the bare spot.

  Garrett approached, raising his champagne flute. “Fuck the flower. Good job, men.”

  “Did she sign?” I asked Garrett.

  “Ms. Patton?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Who the fuck else would I be talking about?”

  “Jesus, Liam . . .” Owen glanced over his shoulder toward the straitlaced Japanese contingent we’d just climbed into business bed with.

  Lowering my tone, I asked, “How did it go? Did she like the bonus?”

  “Who cares?” He downed his drink. “I swear, quantum physics would be easier to solve than your chick contracts. You do know that given your economic status, you could bang a dozen cunts a night for free?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I ground from between my teeth. Garrett had never been a personal favorite of mine, but his shark instincts had earned at least half my fortune.

  Garrett grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “Seriously, if you feel compelled to help these charity cases, open a goddamned shelter. It’d make my life a damned sight easier than having to write off—”

  I hit his smug-ass smile with a hard right.

  And then, with the Japanese contingent and their translators and all of my legal team watching, I walked out. I’d wanted to do that for a long time. And now, I wanted to see Ella.

  In my current frame of mind, I didn’t have the patience to deal with traffic, so I called my heli pilot and headed to the rooftop pad lounge.

  I’d been pacing for five minutes when Owen crashed my party. “What the fuck?”

  “He was out of line.”

  “Granted, but you can’t just haul off and punch him in the middle of a deal.”

  “The deal was made.”

  Owen pressed his lips, crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. “Dude . . . We’re not in college anymore. You’re in the big league. Hell—we all are. This—this thing we’ve built is bigger than all of us.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” Right about now, I was wishing for that champagne I’d earlier taken a pass on. “Shit . . . I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I sat hard on a black leather chair, cradling my forehead in my hands. “Being stuck in that crap town dredged up garbage that was better left alone.”

  “Look . . .” He sat on the arm of the sofa across from me. “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but—”

  “Stop. I’ve paid a ton of money to make my past go away, and I’d like to keep it on lockdown.”

  “I get that, but dude . . .” He forced a deep breath, making me dread whatever wisdom he felt compelled to spout. “I respect the hell out of your Save the World mentality, but what happened to your mom . . .”

  “I know, all right? Fuck.” Why was he even here?

  “I’m leaving for Brisbane in a few hours. Come with. I’ve got a lead on this kid who developed a program that talks to dogs. This thing is seriously fringe and I want it. You used to love this kind of shit.”

  “I don’t know, man . . .” What I wanted was to see Ella. Touch her. Be inside her. But why? Beyond our undeniable attraction, what about her made me feel as if I were falling with no landing in sight? None of what I felt for her made sense. She made me want to think and do crazy. Case in point—punching my chief legal counsel in the middle of a very lucrative deal. “You’re right. I need clarity.”

  “Good.” He clamped his hand over my right shoulder. “Let’s have Jimbo fly us out to the airport. By the time we get back, I’m sure you’ll have this girl out of your system.” Part of me hoped my oldest friend was right.

  A bigger part of me feared the consequences if he was wrong.

  Ella

  I spun in a circle to take it all in.

  When I first heard I’d be staying in Liam’s penthouse, my mind went all stark and modern, envisioning towering sheets of glass and lots of stainless steel. But Liam had once again surprised me in a wonderful way, as my temporary home couldn’t have been more different—or magnificent.

  “This place is weird as fuck.” Willow flounced one of dozens of oversized, brightly colored silk throw pillows, each outdoing the other with elaborate trim and beadwork.

  “Shut up,” I snapped. How could she not be utterly transported?

  On the fringe of the San Francisco I knew only from coffee table–book pictures sat an unassuming whitewashed brick building. An antique elevator operated by a kindly old man had delivered me to an equally nondescript white hall. Then, with a funny little formal bow, he’d left me standing there. Carol had told me to go ahead while she parked her car.

  The space was a long rectangle, with unobstructed panes of glass on either end. Facing me stood imposing double doors, arched at the top and coated in shabby-chic chipped white paint that didn’t look like some decorator’s imitation of antiquity, but the real deal.

  I’d curved my hands around sterling silver door latches, then pressed down with my thumbs, opening the space as if tossing off the top to a much-anticipated gift. Inside, I’d found a Moroccan palace complete with elaborate mosaics and tinkling fountains and ceilings tall enough to make my spirit soar. Off a center courtyard crowned with glass were tantalizing glimpses of rooms filled with every conceivable modern convenience tucked in and amongst relics and treasures and hardwood chests and curios older than our country.

  “Your boyfriend’s a few dozen peaches shy of a dozen.”

  I ignored Willow, exploring to my heart’s content. I found sleeping quarters with curtained beds tall enough to need small sets of stairs to climb into and downy coverings made of silk, with heaps of pillows perfect for lounging with a won
derful book . . . or man.

  I found a large but workable fully stocked kitchen and a dining room with a table long enough to seat twenty. There was a theater room and a gym, and a library filled with the latest hardback bestsellers and what I guessed to be rare first-edition classics.

  “Like, I can see where this place might be cool for an orgy or something, but—”

  “Seriously, Willow. Hush. God, do you have to ruin this for me?”

  Back in the central courtyard, I found paned doors leading to a garden paradise. This time of year there wasn’t much blooming, but ornate shrubbery and elaborately carved marble benches surrounded a rectangular reflecting pool. Upon further exploration, I found a steaming octagonal swimming pool with a fat palm tree planted on a grassy center island. Four chaise lounges sat at one end and an umbrella table at the other.

  I knelt, skimming my fingers through the pool’s water. I smiled upon discovering it was bathtub warm.

  “I’m just sayin’. . . it’s not very practical.”

  “Why would he want it to be?” I hugged myself against a burst of wind coming off what I assumed was the famous bay. The Golden Gate was in full view and as majestic as I’d always imagined. The sun shone, but the temperature had a bite. I wanted to celebrate not only the view, but this place, but then it occurred to me that Liam hadn’t spun this creation for my sole delight, but for countless women before me. How many of the beds had he slept in? Committed depraved acts in? And why did the notion infuriate me? “This is where he stores his harem . . .”

  “Oh, snap! Never thought of it like that. Think he’ll want to do us both?”

  “No.” It was my sincere hope that the dirty look I shot her stopped that thought cold.

  “I’m going back inside. Jerry’s got midget strippers on today.”

  Just when I thought I wanted to toss her off the building’s edge, she went and gave me a sweet hug. “You and Liam make a hot couple. I’ll bet you two are going to live happily ever after.”

  I’d bet she was wrong.

  “There you are.” Carol didn’t bother knocking before barging into my room. I’d claimed a second-story suite with a corner view. The bed was huge and ornate, and draped in a lavish silk canopy that made it ideal for hiding my stupid, sentimental tears. “I forgot what a bitch it is to park around here. The penthouse only comes with two spaces, and your car and the housekeeper’s are hogging them both.”

  My car? Housekeeper?

  “Olga’s a gem. Sweet as molasses, and bakes everything from pastries to lasagna. When she’s not in her kitchen, you can find her in her room, watching her shows. She’s obsessed with reality TV. She doesn’t clean, but schedules everyone who does. Liam told me he gave you a credit card, and you’ve got the cash from Garrett. Oh—” She withdrew a platinum, diamondstudded iPhone from her suit pocket, handing it to me. “This has been preprogrammed with Liam, myself and Olga. If you need anything—and I mean anything—don’t hesitate to call myself or Olga. That’s why we’re paid the big bucks.” She wrinkled her nose. “As for Liam, I’d wait for him to call you. I mean, you don’t have to, but the girls who give him space usually last the longest.”

  My stomach churned as if I were carrying a hot coal baby.

  The pretentious phone scalded my hand like dry ice.

  “Okay, so that should be everything. I’ll let you handle your little friend.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  She waved and was almost out the door, but then turned back. “One last thing—Liam likes to feel like he’s saving you, so you should probably get yourself . . .” She waved her hands in the general direction of my hair. “Well, you’ll figure it out.”

  Long after the only thing left of Carol was the faint trace of her rose perfume, I rolled over in bed, watching sunlight fall from yellow to golden to an orange-red fire fading to starry black.

  If I’d had any sense, I would have climbed out of bed, left the phone and cash and credit card on a pillow, then run as far from this place as I could. But Liam was a crafty spider. Not only had he spun this wondrous web, but he’d baited it with himself at the center. I craved what we’d shared last night, and back in Arkansas, and even that afternoon at his office, more than I’d once craved freedom—or even death—the way I had with Blaine.

  The way Liam made me feel with his powerful emerald stare was unlike anything I’d experienced. His gaze held challenges and promises and the pure, unfiltered life force I so desperately needed.

  Because of all that, I not only didn’t run, but I picked up the ridiculous phone Carol had given me and found his number. But his line rang and rang until going to an automated voice mail recording. And then I felt bereft, and more than a little lame for even caring. For all I knew, I wasn’t even the only woman he’d currently signed to service him. God, just thinking of what our contract implied made me sick—and not just because I’d never wanted to be that girl. The girl like Willow who didn’t have a problem screwing for a nice car or cash. But because I was stupid enough to actually be attracted to him. In fact, with each passing day, I was growing more and more crazy about him.

  And straight up—falling for him wasn’t supposed to be part of this deal.

  Three days passed, and when I still hadn’t heard from Liam, I wasn’t sure whether to be worried or pissed. I wanted to call Carol to ask her if she knew where he was, but pride wouldn’t let me. In the end, I decided a man in his position would logically have any number of fires to put out on a daily basis, so it was probably normal for him to be gone. In the same breath, I knew that in his role as literally one of the most plugged-in men on the planet, other than him being dead or unconscious, there was no excuse for him not to call or text. If he didn’t want to keep in touch, why had he given me the phone?

  Worried or pissed.

  Worried or pissed.

  I was both at the same time, convincing myself the crushing pain in my chest was from too much of Olga’s rich cream sauce. The truth was that not knowing was slowly killing me, so I worked hard at convincing myself I was busy.

  I spent my days reading and exploring my part of the city. I loved the bohemian shops and spirit. There was a unique mix of people I’d never before encountered in small-town Tennessee or Arkansas. So many cultures and races and beliefs all blended into a kaleidoscope of activity.

  Nights I hid in my room, wondering if the bass hammering the walls was bothering the neighbors. Willow had always loved to party, but ever since I’d given her half of my ten grand, she’d been out of control. Olga had informed us that if there was any item we needed, we should let her know, so Willow had overstocked the atrium wet bar with premium liquor. Our first few days in the city, we’d played tourist at a couple museums, but now, she mostly invited strangers off the streets to join her and they all got sloppy drunk on Liam’s fat dime.

  I’d lost track of how long he’d been gone—six or seven days—when a tipsy Willow banged on my locked bedroom door. “Wake up, bitch! Momma brought you a surprise!”

  “I’m not thirsty!”

  She banged again—only louder.

  Back to wishing she’d never come, I got out of bed to open the door, only to find she had brought me a surprise—one I never in a million years could have expected.

  “Nathan!” The rush of his familiar, friendly smile felt like reaching the top of a roller coaster and screaming with release all the way down. I crushed him in a hug. “I missed you!”

  “Likewise.” He thankfully returned my affections. I was elated to be with someone I shared history with—even if it was a short history, we’d had good times at Wal-Mart, forming a fast friendship over bootlegged ICEEs and nacho cheese. He held me at arm’s length, searching my face. “This guy make you happy?”

  His raw question and his earnest, heartfelt stare caught me off guard.

  Worried or pissed?

  No—Liam wasn’t at all making me happy. He’d given me all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, yet still couldn�
�t put Ella back together again. My tears came fast and hot, raining in ugly rivulets down my cheeks.

  Willow bottomed up her drink. “For fuck’s sake, you’re such a drama queen.”

  “Fuck off, Willow.” Nathan pushed her out of the way.

  “Fuck you, Nathan! I flew you out here to play with me. She’s already got a boyfriend.”

  Did I? Because from where I stood, I had a ghost.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Nathan asked Willow. “I thought you were out here to give her moral support.”

  I couldn’t stop crying. And crying.

  “I am!” Willow said, “but why’s everything gotta be about her? Fuck both of you bitches! I just wanna dance . . .” She sloshed off, barefoot and wearing a long tie-dyed skirt and macramé halter. She’d become a walking hippie cliché. The pot cloud was so thick I could have gotten a contact high.

  Nathan pushed me back into my room and shut the door. “Got a bathroom? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “I—I’m sorry.” I swiped at my snotty nose. “I—I really am glad to see you.”

  “Aw, it’s good seeing you, too.”

  I led the way to the bathroom. In the time I’d been here, I’d grown used to the sunken tub that would fit twelve. The mosaic steam shower and endless vanity counter that looked lonely with only the few toiletries I’d picked up at a corner drugstore. The commode was tucked away in its own, private little room.

  He took a washcloth from a basket filled with carefully rolled mates in exotic colors— saffron and turmeric and ginger—soaking it under a hot water stream.

  “I came out here to party.” He laughed. “But this isn’t turning out like I expected.”

  “Sorry.” I’d hefted myself up to sit on the granite counter.

  He held out the cloth to me, and I pressed it to my flushed face, imagining Liam doing it for me, ever-so-gently wiping away my tears. But how could he do that when he’d caused them?