The Billionaire and the Bad Girl

by Bella Love-Wins

  Dahlia: Don’t tempt us, Emily. Besides, you hosted the last few times.

  Emily: I don’t mind. These small get-togethers are a nice change of pace.

  Me: I’m game. It’s ladies only, right?

  Cherry: Yes. Let’s move drinks to Emily’s place after.

  Dahlia: Works for me.

  Emily: I’ll be here.

  Cherry: Does Diane plan to have you chained to your desk this week, Vanessa?

  Me: Thanks, girls. It’s work stuff, Cherry.

  Cherry: You sure?

  Me: That, and I have a boyfriend.

  No one replies for a solid five minutes. Yeah, they should be shocked.

  Cherry: WHAT? But you don’t do boyfriends.

  Dahlia: Congrats! That’s great!

  Rosa: Sorry, I was on a call. What?

  Emily: OMG that’s awesome. Does Dylan know?

  Me: Crap. No. You CANNOT tell my brother. Not yet.

  Cherry: Why the hell not?

  Me: Because the guy’s not really my boyfriend. He just told Diane he was. Long story. Complicated.

  Dahlia: What’s his name?

  Emily: When can we meet him? Can he make it to my restaurant? I’d love to meet him.

  Dahlia: He can be your plus one for my wedding!

  Me: No no no. Hold off. Don’t include him in anything for now.

  Cherry: How’d your mom react? And name, please?

  Me: Like it was no big deal to her. It’s Liam.

  Dahlia: Oh, that’s nice. Is he Irish? Is he more Hemsworth than Neeson?

  Cherry: Hold up. Liam as in the tall, sexy, Irish redhead I met at the restaurant that one time? Eleven inches on the scale of one to ten? Mob boss’s kid? That Liam?!?!?

  Me: Yes. Him. But it’s twelve. As in inches. I did say it was a LONG story.

  Emily: I can’t wait to hear about it. I mean him. Lol!

  Me: Hey. Gotta go. Will tell you everything when I get a chance. Saturday for sure! But I may be late.

  Now that I’ve got them all worked up, I mute the volume of my text notifications and slip my phone back into my purse. They didn’t freak out, but then again, it’s my life that Liam just ruined with those three words, not theirs.

  8

  Vanessa

  “Leaving soon?” My friend, Ashton, leans against my doorway as I log off my desktop. His charcoal suit jacket’s thrown over one shoulder, leather work bag over the other, and he looks more worn out than me.

  It’s well past ten at night, but we’re not necessarily the last ones here. The thing is, we’re both smart enough to know our place on the totem pole. We’re the newbies. Rookie junior associates with no experience. That means we need to be the first ones in and the last ones out until we prove our worth.

  I unplug my phone from the charger and slip it into my purse. “Just packing up.”

  “Cool. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Thanks.”

  He moves into the hallway, and I follow him out, pulling my door closed behind me. “I hear congrats are in order.”

  “On the O’Sullivan Entertainment file? Yes, I’m excited to have my first real client.”

  “They gave you your own file?” he asks, sounding impressed and a little skeptical.

  “Yes. It’s not a litigation or anything,” I tell him, to downplay my big news. In all likelihood, I’m the first junior associate to have the honor. Even if I earned the assignment based on merit, I have no delusions. I’m the boss’s daughter. The office rumor mill will spin it fifty different ways that all point to nepotism.

  But then I realize something as we make it over to the elevators.

  “If you didn’t know about the O’Sullivan file, what were the congratulations about?”

  “The guy,” he says with a one-sided smirk.

  “What guy?”

  “Liam O’Sullivan. The place was buzzing all afternoon that you two are an item.”

  I make a face and am about to ask how anyone around here would know or care about who Liam O’Sullivan is, but the elevator bell rings as its doors open. Ashton lets me on first, then presses the button to the main floor. I’m not sure I want to know, but curiosity’s killing me.

  I can’t stop myself. “Not that it’s anyone’s business, but how do people know his name?”

  “You didn’t see the article?” I shake my head. “Wealth Magazine? It’s been out for at least a month.” He pulls his phone out, and after unlocking his screen and keying in God knows what, he turns it around to show me.

  The headline is, ‘New York’s Former Mob Royalty makes Top Forty Under Forty,’ and there’s a picture of Liam underneath, wearing a well-tailored yet comfortable business suit. My hands can’t move fast enough, but I manage to snag Ashton’s phone and scan the content.

  What the hell?

  To be fair, aside from the headline, there’s barely any mention of his mob connections. The magazine editors were probably just reaching for a sexy title. They refer to Liam as a man ahead of his time, the best of the best technology leaders all rolled into one incarnation. They make him sound like the God of software entrepreneurship. He runs a software tech incubator. That set of facts makes him one of the most influential people of the year. Not that I’m jealous, but I never knew he was this successful.

  I read a bit further through his accomplishments. Okay, I didn’t know he had three teams of postgraduate software developers reporting to him. We spend more time in bed than anywhere else, and our pillow talk, if any, has never been about either of our jobs. I also had no idea that seventeen of their forty-eight most recent startups were acquired by some of the big names in Silicon Valley for as much as nine figures each, making Liam what they dubbed the Incu-Billionaire of Manhattan.

  Wow. Liam’s been busy.

  “Wait, you didn’t know?”

  I’m new to this fake girlfriend thing, and so busy gawking and furrowing my brows with each new piece of information I learn in the article, that I forget all about Ashton.

  “Huh? Of course, I knew.” I can tell Ashton isn’t buying it. “I just assumed you were referring to him making some other list…you know? Another list I didn’t see yet.”

  “Yes, but come on. Your man made the list. You can sneak in the occasional social media surf, and Google alerts can do the rest for relevant news.” He cocks his head to one side and studies my face. “Are you sure you’re even dating for real?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  I blurt out the question way too abruptly. I sound defensive. Or is it just that obvious? And why the hell am I perpetuating a lie that I had no part in sharing?

  “I mean, people date for the optics all the time. The idea of him, with his flashy new title and badass street cred, and you, heiress of both a legal empire and your dad’s old robber baron money.” He must notice the less than subtle slight against my father because he adds, “No offense, but details of the Worthington’s ill-gotten fortunes are all over Wikipedia. But you see my point?”

  “Not really.”

  “What I’m trying to say is, if it’s just for show, it kinda makes sense.”

  I’m not going to confirm or deny anything until I talk to Liam and get him to see that his goofball announcement to my mother and his uncle was a dick move.

  Except now the whole office knows?

  And I’ll have to stay even-keeled for God knows how many more conversations like this with the rest of the staff at work? Well, fuck me. I’ll need to avoid the water cooler for at least a few weeks until the rumors die down.

  The elevator arrives at the main floor, and I can’t get out fast enough.

  But Liam’s standing in the middle of the lobby.

  9

  Vanessa

  “Good idea, being seen together near work,” Ashton remarks. “In any case, my services are no longer needed. Your man can walk you to your car. See you tomorrow.”

  He flashes a smile in Liam’s general direction before disappearing around the c
orner toward the south exit doors.

  “Hi beautiful,” Liam greets me when I’m close enough.

  “Hi. What are you doing here this late?”

  “I sent you a text.” He lifts the legal sized brown envelope in his hand. “Craig wanted me to give you these first quarter financials for O’Sullivan Entertainment. Sorry, I was stuck at work, but it looks like my timing’s just right.”

  “It is. That reminds me. Congrats on making the Top Forty under Forty list.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “I didn’t find out about until just now. Kinda like the girlfriend stunt you pulled earlier.”

  “That was not a stunt.”

  “No? What would you call it? Never mind. We had that conversation already. Though I’m still having a hard time understanding why you said what you did. Especially now with your name plastered all over Wealth Magazine.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Well, for starters, it mentioned you’re single. And you’re rich. You can take your pick of all the single women who are probably lining up around the block to date you.”

  “I don’t want them. Besides, you could’ve easily said I was kidding around.”

  “After that sweet, intimate kiss in front of my mother? That would’ve been awkward, and you know it. I also couldn’t quite find the words to tell them we’re fuck buddies. Plus you caught me off guard. Your uncle’s my first real client.” He quirks a questioning eyebrow. “No, it’s not like that. I’m taking the lead, but I won’t be closing a two-billion-dollar deal all alone.”

  “Impressive.” He pulls me into his arms, completely ignoring where we are, and I let my body do what it always has, in response to this man. I relax into his strong, arousing warmth. I’ve had too long a day. I can’t resist Liam. Not that I’ve ever been able to. “Want to join me for a drink?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We don’t need this couple thing going too far. What’s my mother going to think when she finds out?”

  “What am I going to think when I find out what?”

  I freeze at the voice coming from a few feet behind me.

  Shit.

  Mom.

  Why do I have such crappy timing today?

  Pulling back slightly from Liam’s embrace, I whip my head to one side to look at her, at a loss for a quick recovery that would satisfy, her without having to admit that Liam and I aren’t together.

  “Oh. Hi, Diane. It’s nothing really.”

  “It sounded like something to me,” she answers, and again, her eyes are trained on both Liam and me, silently scrutinizing our physical closeness. “Does it have anything to do with Craig’s deal?”

  “No, not at all,” I say, scrambling to come up with something. Anything.

  But then Liam beats me to it.

  “Vanessa wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me attending Jackson Knight’s wedding as her plus one,” he says with self-assurance.

  I stare up at the sincerity on his face, and his eyes that are beaming with the appearance of truth.

  Damn, he’s a good liar.

  But how does Liam know about Jackson and Dahlia’s wedding? Or that I don’t yet have a date?

  A glance over at Mom tells me she’s satisfied with his answer.

  “Why would I mind? And even if I did, I can’t remember Vanessa ever worrying about what I’d think of her dates.”

  “Good point, Mom,” I say and only recognize my slip after the word comes out. “I mean Diane.”

  She straightens the slender strap of her Coach purse on her shoulder and gives us a nod as she moves off. “Are you leaving for the night?” she asks me.

  “Uh, yes, but my car’s parked underground a few blocks that way,” I tell her, pointing in the opposite direction from where she’s going.

  “Enjoy your evening, you two,” she calls out over her shoulder.

  “Good night, Diane,” Liam replies, then returns his gaze to me when she’s far enough away. “How’d I do?”

  I pull out of his arms and start for my exit. I don’t have to look around to know he’s beside me, effortlessly keeping up with my brisk pace. “Fine, but you’ll end up burying us under a mountain of lies if you keep it up. How do you know about Jackson’s wedding anyway?”

  “I was invited.”

  Taking a shortcut through the main floor, we step out into the summer night air through the double doors of a service exit. “By whom?”

  “Jackson. We’re friends. Knight’s Capital bought up a financial modeling program developed by one of my software teams at the incubator.”

  “You’ve done business with Dylan and Jackson?”

  “Sure. You have a problem with that?”

  “Well, no… I don’t know. I just wish you had told me about it.”

  “We don’t do much talking when we get together.”

  He has a point, but I don’t love this feeling. It’s as though I’m the last to find out how interconnected our lives really are outside the bedroom.

  “Right, because we’re not together. You said we are, and now things are a lot more complicated than they were when you left my place last night.”

  “You should stop fighting this for a minute,” he murmurs, pulling the door shut behind him.

  “No,” I breathe out.

  Half-running, I hustle down the street for two blocks and push through the entrance door of the parking structure where I left my car.

  “You walk this route every night?” He looks behind us and puts a protective arm around my shoulder.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Are you looking to get mugged? We’ve walked past three bums and a crackhead, and the street’s fucking dark.”

  “There’s always people around.” I take the steps down to the P3-level and dig around my purse for the car keys and remote.

  “Yeah.” He stops at the painted concrete pillar beside my car. “People who might mug you when you least expect it.”

  “I'm all right, Liam.” My car keys continue to evade my desperately seeking hand, which only proves his point. I lean against the cool, hard wall for support. That’s the kind of response I need to give this smoking hot man.

  Something that’s just like this brick wall.

  Cold.

  Resolute.

  Unwavering.

  Because if I let him in even an inch, I’ll fall for him. And he’ll swallow me whole. “There’s a difference between seeing each other and hooking up, Liam. Why did you tell them I’m your girlfriend?”

  “The simple answer is I’ve been fucking you for over four years, and I still enjoy you. It’s got to mean something.”

  “It means we’re good together in bed. That’s all.”

  “You don’t see it yet, but there’s also a difference between wanting someone and fighting tooth and nail to have them.”

  “So is this wanting or fighting? Wait, let me guess. Look, Liam, I need you to let it go.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Vanessa.” He steps toward me as I press the back of my head against the pillar and look up into his eyes. The fluorescent light above us casts shadows on his chiseled face and gives his red hair a fiery glow. It’s like the flame I’ve worked so hard to smother inside me since I met him.

  Persistent.

  Relentless.

  A raging inferno that won’t go out.

  Fuck. I should have known better than to make eye contact. Now I’m frozen in place. I can barely breathe. Like prey, I can’t walk away from my predator now.

  “You don’t ever have to fear what we have,” Liam whispers, running a gentle hand through my hair as though he can read my mind.

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You’re terrified of something.”

  “I’m not.”

  He closes in on me, and lifts his other hand, resting it on the spot on the wall beside my face, bracketing me in. My p
ussy clenches from just his proximity. All his body heat radiates into my chest and does nasty things to my defenses.

  “You can’t run and hide from me forever, Vanessa. Eventually, what’s between us will catch up to you.” He brushes the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. “Unless that’s what you always wanted me to do. Chase you. Put my foot down and tell you how it is. Or I can force you to admit you’re mine.”

  Liam lowers his head to mine. His lips are so close. Too close. And the woodsy scent of his cologne curls up into my nose, shutting off my brain.

  “You know I have my ways.”

  “Liam,” I moan out his name, intending to stop him in his tracks, but it does the opposite. To us both.

  With his eyes riveted onto mine, he grips the back of my neck. “Say it,” he demands.

  The ferocity in his eyes causes me to tug my bottom lip into my mouth to force myself not to speak. A passing vehicle rolls by at the same time that my fingers curl around the car remote in my bag, saving me from the weighted moment. I take the opportunity to push past Liam, unlock my door, squeak out a half-hearted, “Sorry, I have to go,” and hop into the driver seat.

  He knows I’m at my limit, standing there with his arms folded but not making any further effort to talk. My eyes don’t leave his until after I start the car and roll out of the spot, but when I do see him fixed in place in my rear-view mirror, the heaviness bearing down on my chest eases up, and I can breathe again.

  As I turn out of the parking garage, the image of him leaving my condo this morning is at the forefront of my thoughts. Wasn’t I supposed to end it with him after today? How did it go from needing to cut him loose to partaking in this girlfriend ruse of his? Did he see it coming and decide to up the ante? Fuck, he probably did. Or maybe he just knows me more than I care to admit.

  The truth is, I have been running. My ‘keep it moving’ philosophy allows me to avoid staying in one place, to evade the prospect of becoming trapped, to escape the pain that goes hand in hand with connection. As much as I resent my mother, there’s a part of me that believes I’m no different from her. That I’m not built for the expectations of relationships or family. That I’m hardwired to fail, so I’m better off not trying.