The Billionaire and the Bad Girl

by Bella Love-Wins

  “Sorry what?”

  “Liam. He signed us on as his general counsel. His intellectual property billables will generate at least a quarter of a million per month, if his business incubator maintains their level of development.”

  “Liam signed with our firm? When did this happen?” He didn’t tell me a thing yesterday. Bastard.

  “Last Friday. You should spend more time talking to your boyfriend. He told me you’re the reason he changed firms. Not that I’d call it switching. His company was using some one-off legal service I’ve never heard of. It left them exposed, if you ask me. Didn’t sound like he was happy with them. But the point is, he’s coming on board because of you. As I said, you earned it.” She tilts the phone in her hand to check the screen. “Anything else? I’ve got to make it across town in less than twenty-five minutes.”

  It kind of stings that she’s only changing my office for the optics, but if she insists that I got my promotion purely on merit, I’m wasting my breath to say another word.

  Getting to my feet, I back away slowly. “No. Thanks, Diane.”

  She heads over to the coat rack in the corner of her office and grabs her purse as she gets ready to leave. “Sharon will find one of the receptionists to help with your move. Oh, a couple of things. We need to schedule another meeting with O’Sullivan Entertainment. Three weeks should be enough. I’ll get her to organize that too.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “And give your brother a call, so he has a heads-up. They may show up at his doorstep before the worst is over.”

  “True. Will do.”

  15

  Vanessa

  “Your mother gave me a promotion and a big, new office because of my fake relationship status.” I rub my free hand over the aching spot on my neck and wait for my brother, Dylan, to say something.

  “She’s only my mother when you have something to complain about. Hang on, I should probably get you off speakerphone.”

  “I’m on speaker? Who’s all there?”

  “No one. Just the guys. Say hi, guys.”

  I recognize Jace, Jackson, Caleb, and Foster’s voices from the baritone chorus of hellos.

  “Hey, you slackers,” I reply. “Get me off speaker and talk to me, Dylan. What should I make of this… I don’t know what to call it. A reward, I guess. You know, she insisted that I earned a larger office and the title of Associate, that it was on merit.”

  “Congrats! What, you don’t believe her?”

  “Would you?”

  “Try to enjoy it, little sis.”

  I look around the bright, spacious room. Gosh, I love natural light instead of fluorescent eyesores casting the shadow of my head over everything that I work on. There’s a lot of potential with all the extra wall space. Plans start to form at the back of my mind. Maybe a few framed pictures. A couple of plants. “Yes. You’re probably right.”

  “But like I told you before you started working for her, there’s a reason I chose to stay the hell away from practicing law.”

  I groan. Maybe I should have stayed away too. I did, for as long as I could, but still ended up applying to law school and falling in love with the challenge of being a lawyer. Grams would probably say it’s in my blood.

  “Before I forget, Mom wanted me to tell you to watch out for the media. Emily too. Maybe even at Knights Capital.”

  “Too late. The sons of bitches were here this morning.”

  “At the office?”

  “Yeah. Outside.”

  “What did they ask you?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention. Something about what I think about you dating the Irish mob.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told them to fuck off, what else?”

  I smile. This is why I love my brother. “Speaking of… how come you never told me you hired Liam's company to do work over at Knights Capital?”

  “Are you sure you want to ask me such a loaded question? Because I can turn around and ask you why it is you’ve secretly been fraternizing with him.”

  “And by fraternizing, he means fucking,” Caleb clucks. Grunts and muffled laughter follow his comment. “What did they name you two? VanAm? LiVan? I think VanLi has a nice ring to it. Rolls off the tongue, like KimYe. Wait until they start making those computer-generated baby pics. A lock of ginger hair, pink cheeks, cute lips. Or blonde hair and freckles. I’m at the edge of my seat to see what they come up with.”

  “It’s clear to me that you have way too much time on your hands, Caleb. And Dylan, I asked you to take me off the fucking speakerphone, you little shit.”

  “Come on. We’re all friends here.” That sounded like Foster, but it’s hard to tell who’s talking over the goddamned peals of laughter.

  “My situation’s not funny, y’all. Cut it out.”

  “Is this dating the mob thing real?” Caleb asks.

  “None of your damn business. But as Dylan won’t pick up the phone, Jackson can you please tell me how it is that you decided to invite Liam to your wedding? I didn’t realize you two were close.”

  “He’s a friend. But if I knew you two were a thing, I would’ve asked Dahlia to change a few details with the wedding planner. Mainly to relocate your man closer to the head table, and cut both of your plus-ones from the guest list. But don’t worry, now that I know, I'm on it. You’re cool with that?”

  “Of course, she’s cool.”

  “Shut it, Caleb,” I half-shout into the phone. “Or Dahlia can do the same thing for you and Rosa.” That shuts him up fast. “Anyway Dylan, when you and your boys stop dicking around, give me a call. It's about Emily.”

  My brother picks up the handset at record speed, finally turning off the speakerphone. “What's going on?”

  I don’t have anything to talk to him about Emily, but he’s my brother. I have to yank his chain from time to time. “Ahhh. Now you want privacy.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Let’s talk in person.”

  “What did she say to you?” His voice is insistent, almost desperate.

  “Nothing, idiot. Next time, turn off the goddamned speakerphone when I ask you to.”

  After I hang up on Dylan and his band of brothers, a bunch of text messages all come in at once. Checking the screen, I see they’re all from one person.

  Liam: Hey. Found my phone.

  Liam: Just read all your messages. You’re sexy as fuck when you’re mad.

  Liam: Fuck. My text about using your law firm as general counsel didn’t go through.

  Liam: Call when you can. Or come by for dinner one night this week. I’ll cook.

  I lock my phone screen and shove it in the top desk drawer. Liam can wait. I haven’t done a bit of work since I got here this morning. Time to earn this promotion. Who knows how long it’ll last.

  16

  Liam

  “We’ll be fine here. Go enjoy the long weekend.”

  Leanne, my office manager, has been popping by my office every few minutes to nag me. I’m supposed to be in my car and on the highway by one p.m. at the latest to beat the mass Friday exodus out of town. It’s not my first trip to the Hamptons, but as I’m supposed to attend Jackson and Dahlia’s pre-wedding reception at six, I don’t want to be late.

  I glance up at her above my laptop screen. “Almost done. Just one more quick email.”

  She purses her cherry red lips and shakes her head. “That’s what you said an hour ago. Half the people you’re emailing have out of office notifications on their emails, so they won’t see what you send until next Monday.”

  Quickly reading my message one last time, I hit send, turn off the laptop, and shut the lid.

  “Done,” I tell her.

  “Good.” She sees me pulling the cord from the surge protection power bar below my desk and shakes her head. The nagging’s about to resume. “You’re not seriously going to use that over the weekend, are you?”

  “Only if something urgent comes in on my Blackberry.”

>   She rolls her eyes but it’s her way of showing her concern, so I let her do her thing.

  “Thank you for being my backup,” I tell her, slipping the device into my work bag. “You be sure to leave early too.”

  She smiles broadly. “Why’d you think I’m waiting for you to get going?”

  “I’m gone now. Have a good one.”

  She follows me out of my desk to the front entrance, probably to make sure I leave. “You too. Your tux and dry cleaning are hanging in your car. I took care of it this morning. Drive safe, boss.”

  “Thanks, Leanne.” With a nod, I step onto the elevator and hit the button for the lower level parking garage.

  Vanessa enters my thoughts on the way down. I haven’t spoken to her for over a week. She may be avoiding me, but I’m not worried. The last message I got from Jackson was that Vanessa and I are each other’s plus-ones for the wedding.

  I’ll have all weekend to catch up.

  The entire bridal party will be at the Wainwright Retreat and Seawater Spa, one of the newest luxury hotels in the Hamptons. By pure coincidence, it’s also one of the locations my uncle Craig will run in the acquisition deal Vanessa and her mother’s firm are working on. As I’m here, I promised Craig that I’d spend some extra time talking to the catering and banquet staff.

  Every little bit of intel helps.

  And the extra perk is I’ll have lots of time and damn good reason to get my hands on Vanessa again.

  It’s as I’m driving out of the parking garage that a call comes into my phone via the car’s Bluetooth. Luck, fate, or whatever they’re calling it these days is on my side, inching Vanessa and me that much closer together.

  I won’t take it for granted.

  Even if she can’t appreciate the situation for what it is.

  17

  Vanessa

  My phone vibrates in my pocket as I leave my first-class seat on the plane and file into JFK airport. Mom shipped me off to Illinois to meet with Marty Pelham, who was in Chicago for two ribbon-cutting events. We needed to complete a tedious, line-by-line review of the proposed deal with O’Sullivan Entertainment. I ended up out of town for over a week, working mostly with the company controller because of the complexity of the transaction. And at night, I’d end up either filling in Mom or our valuation team on my findings.

  After a week of mind-numbing data review, never ending hotel restaurant meals, long days, and a few hours each night sleeping in a hotel, I’m grateful to be back in town. I want to take a cab home and climb into my bed for a few hours. But I won’t be at my place long enough to enjoy a second. My to-do list includes going to my condo, swapping out business suits and smart work pumps for airy summer dresses, my bridesmaid gown and impractically high-heeled designer shoes in my suitcase and suit bag, then speeding over to Cherry’s condo to catch a ride out to the Hamptons for Jackson and Dahlia’s wedding. I’m not thrilled about the lack of downtime, but at least Jace or Cherry will be doing the driving. Even with cute little Scottie in the vehicle, I’ll at least have some time to close my eyes and relax.

  Or so I thought until I collect my luggage from the carousel and her phone call lights up my iPhone screen.

  “Hi, Cherry. Are you already outside?” I’m too tired for small talk, and she’s my best friend. I don’t have to put on an act for her.

  “Oh great. You landed. How was the flight?”

  “Fine.”

  “Hey. There’s a quick change of plans. Nothing huge.”

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “Yes, yes, we’re all good. Jace and I left with Scottie earlier than planned to help Jackson with a few things. Long story short, I can’t pick you up.”

  “That’s okay. I can schedule a last-minute limo, or worst-case scenario, I’ll drive.”

  “No need for that. I already took care of transportation.”

  “With who?”

  “Everyone else is already on their way out here, and we didn’t want to have you drive alone. Liam’s on his way. I hope you don’t mind too much.”

  It’s been less than two weeks since I spoke to Liam. We could have connected if we wanted to, I suppose, but with my long days, I figured I’d give him some space, and maybe he thought the same thing too. Now that I’m back and Cherry brought up his name, I miss him a little.

  Mere weeks. That’s how long it takes for me to realize there’s nothing fake between Liam and me. I hate admitting it. But living a lie has a way of changing a person. Though it’s more a lie wrapped inside of a truth I don’t want to acknowledge.

  “It’s fine,” I tell her. “Plans change.”

  “You sure?”

  “As long as he doesn’t have an entourage of paparazzi with him. Hey, I never got a chance to look. Did the whole VanLi thing die down?”

  She laughs. “Not a chance.”

  “Awww crap. Does that mean what I think it does? They know we’ll be at the wedding? Fuck, that’s the reason you guys left a little earlier, isn’t it?”

  “No no, it’s nothing like that. Stop worrying. We’ll see you soon!”

  Hanging up, I send Liam a quick text to find out his ETA. He replies that he’s already here. I wheel the luggage carrier through the terminal to the arrivals pickup area and look out at the long line of waiting vehicles. Then I feel strong, sure hands slide around my waist from behind me.

  Liam.

  “Hi, sexy.” The smooth depth of his voice and that soft kiss he presses onto the spot on my neck reminds me that I’ve been in denial my entire time out of town. I missed him.

  “Hi,” I breathe out as he turns me to face him. I take in his imposing height all over again, fiery red hair, broad shoulders, hard muscles under his clothes, and those intense hazel green eyes. Nervous all of a sudden, I bite down on my bottom lip to stop the words that threaten to spill out. Thank God his mouth crashes against mine, smothering every word and thought in one passionate kiss.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says as he pulls away, and reaches for my luggage. “We’ve got a crazy drive ahead of us.”

  “How come you didn’t call?” I demand right there in the middle of the terminal.

  “You know why.” He removes one hand from the luggage cart and takes my hand.

  “Actually, I kinda don’t.”

  “Let’s talk in the car, all right?”

  I’m stuck in my head for the rest of the walk to his car and hop into the passenger seat while he loads my things into the trunk. This off-balance feeling in my gut is so unfamiliar. But as he sits in the driver seat, I swallow hard and let it out.

  “If you cared about me all this time, why didn’t you just tell me?”

  He starts the car, drives out of the short-term parking garage and merges into traffic. “You know you weren’t ready for that.”

  “How the hell can you tell what I want or don’t want? We never talked about going on a date, whether or not we wanted to be exclusive, nothing at all. Are we exclusive at all?”

  He keeps his eyes on the road but shakes his head. “If you have to come out and ask a question like that…fine, I’ll tell you what I know. We’re exclusive.”

  “Well thanks for the news flash, because up to this point, I wasn’t.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “I’m telling you the truth. You’re not the only man I’ve slept with.”

  “Name one guy other than me that you’ve fucked in the last year. No, in the last three years.”

  “Well there’s—” I start to mentally go through the guys on my list of casual hookups in my phone contact lists. Fuck. I can’t remember. Pulling out my phone, I go through each list one by one and click through a few of the names to see when was the last time we exchanged a text or phone call.

  Booty Calls: Liam, ten days ago. Mark, three years ago.

  Friends With Benefits: Liam, ten days ago. Aidan, three years ago. Brett, over three years ago.

  Guys Who Like to Keep my Fuck-Me Shoes on While They Fuck me: Liam, ten
days ago. Brett, over three years ago.

  Ginger Guys I’d Like to Fuck Again: Liam, ten days ago. Charles, four years ago.

  Damn Good Sex: Liam, ten days ago. Mark, three years ago. Aidan, three years ago. Brett, over three years ago. Charles, four years ago.

  Ten or More Inches and Knows How to Fucking Use it: Liam, ten days ago.

  Fuck. He’s right.

  “Well, I’m not sure. How did you know I haven’t been with anyone else?”

  “I just know.”

  “Have you gone through my phone?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Did you have me followed?”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “How are you so sure?”

  He raises his eyebrows at me, but says nothing.

  I cross my arms over my stomach, covering the seatbelt. “I’m still not thrilled that you sprang that girlfriend deal on me in front of our families.”

  “I’m sorry if it put you on the spot, but I don’t regret it for a second.”

  “That’s the weakest apology I’ve ever heard.”

  “I’m not apologizing for what I did. Only for the shock value. Which you needed.” His voice is so calm, and the flurry of emotions playing on my mind is so off the charts, I have to look away. He rests a hand on my knee. “Try to relax.”

  The urge to tell him to let me go is strong. I want to lash out, to show him he’s wrong about me, about us. He can’t know me better than I know myself.

  Son of a bitch.

  But he does.

  And his touch, for fuck’s sake. Just his goddamned hand on my knee has me longing for more contact between our bodies. It’s not only about that crazy, wicked hot sexual energy between us. Yes, it’s there, now more than ever. But weaving through all of that attraction, there’s also an unavoidable gravitational pull that not only brings us physically closer, but more than that. It’s one of those elusive, intangible, mysterious subtleties that show up out of nowhere and hits you as hard as a punch in the face when you least expect it. And I of all people would know it. I’ve been avoiding it for almost my entire life.