Temptation (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #4): A Second Chance Billionaire Romance

by Ainsley St Claire

Mason sighs in exacerbation and, just loud enough for the two of us to hear, says, “You’re being childish, Annabel.”

  I’m stunned by his comment. I agree with his assessment, but for him to be that direct is pretty shocking. He always seems to think we’re crazy when we’re less than complimentary about her. But I know exactly why Margo and Hadlee exclude her. According to Hadlee, she asks what they know about the agenda of the partners meeting and is only interested in Mason or herself. However, I can’t be rude, so I choose my words carefully. “Oh, honey, I’m sure they don’t mean to. I’ll mention it to Hadlee, and we’ll make sure you feel included.”

  Mason gives me a nod of appreciation, then turns to Annabel. “See, you’re just imagining this. Have fun tonight. You were the one who wanted to come, remember.”

  “Well, if I didn’t have to worry about Cynthia trying to steal you away from me, I wouldn’t have to come and could’ve stayed home.”

  I can’t hear what he tells her in response, but I think she’s off her rocker about Cynthia.

  Seeing Cameron and Hadlee in a deep conversation with Dillon, I approach and Hadlee excuses herself. “CeCe told me all about Andy coming down to spend the weekend with you. I’m in for planning.”

  “Great, just make it simple. I don’t want to do any private rooms or anything that might overwhelm him.”

  “I understand. I think CeCe was planning to meet at a pub and throw darts at Mark’s picture. Too much?”

  “You’re funny. Yes, too much.” I laugh. “But I’m game for Wednesday night if you all are up for it.”

  “That’s my girl.” She looks over at Annabel. “I see Cruella is here.”

  “She’s convinced Mason that we all hate her.”

  “We pretty much do. Even Margo can’t stand her, and she likes everyone. We caught her last week hanging outside the meeting trying to eavesdrop.”

  “Why isn’t someone saying anything to Mason?”

  “Dillon and Charles both have. He just thinks they’re making it up.”

  The housekeeper rings a bell and calls us to the dining room. We all sit at our regular places, and Margo announces, “I was in the mood for some comfort food, so tonight we’re having meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and peach cobbler for dessert.”

  “That sounds delicious,” Dillon declares.

  “I want seconds already.” Cameron grins.

  Cynthia, sitting on the other side of Mason, says, “My diet can start tomorrow. Bring it on.”

  Annabel glares at Cynthia, who has a perfect figure, and I’ve never seen her abstain from anything for a diet. Mason sees the dirty look, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. Maybe he’s starting to see what we all see and will dump Annabel. Even if she isn’t our mole, she’s not right for him. He’s very good-looking, smart, and he’s a billionaire—a real catch by anyone’s standards—and he needs someone a little more independent and self-confident.

  Dinner conversation centers around a motorcycle ride that Hadlee and Cameron took, and a vacation Mason and Annabel are considering.

  Andy assures me he’s serious about my joining him in when he goes home to Italy. The idea excites me—not the meeting his family part, but getting away together. However, if I don’t get it on the calendar with the partners, someone else may take those same days off, leaving us too shorthanded for me to also be gone. I throw out, “I’ve been invited to Tuscany next month with a friend. I’ve checked the dates, and it’s around two filings, and I think I can make it work. I know I took a few days to deal with my mom though, so I’d understand if you’d prefer I not go.”

  Mason pipes up. “Greer, you’ve hardly taken any time off since you started with us at SHN. Unless anyone disagrees, I say go have fun.”

  “I agree,” Sara says.

  Cameron tousles my hair with brotherly affection. “Enjoy your time with your mystery man. I can’t wait to meet him this weekend.”

  Looking at CeCe, I sigh in exasperation. “Good to see nothing is secret around here.”

  She proudly announces, “Not with us, babe,” and he table erupts with laughter.

  Our dinner conversation deteriorates into a big rowdy family dinner. At one point, Dillon asks, “Anyone up for seafood?” and he opens his mouth full of food. Emerson elbows him hard in the stomach while we all laugh, and then Cameron and Trey both open their mouths as well. We seem to relish the role of children at Margo and Charles’s table, and they love it.

  Eventually, the partners and advisors move into Charles’s office for our meeting. I try to give Annabel a reassuring smile as she’s left behind with Hadlee and Margo, but she just looks pissed off and is scowling at Mason. If her eyes had lasers, she would’ve cut him in half.

  Cynthia leans in and says, “She’s not a happy camper.”

  “No, she really isn’t.”

  We all take our usual places, and for the first time, I realize Cynthia doesn’t even sit close to Mason. Her regular spot is between Charles and Sara across the room, while Mason sits between CeCe and Emerson. So odd for Annabel to be jealous of Cynthia of all people. If she was jealous of CeCe, well, that’d be a different story.

  Our meeting is uneventful. I end up with some work to prepare for a few upcoming deals, and I’ll be doing some research on our competitor Benchmark. I know the one of their founders, Jeannine Pierce, and Mason have a strong personal connection—I think they love to hate one another. This could create quite the media blowup, and I want to be prepared.

  At the end of the night, I head home. Putting my favorite flannel jammies on, I crawl under the covers and grab my Kindle to read something fun—a naughty but sweet novel.

  My cell phone pings, and my curiosity gets the better of me. I’m expecting CeCe with some comment about tonight, and it’s actually Andy. Just thinking of you. My bed misses you.

  I smile, the message making me warm all over. My body misses you.

  Andy: I can’t wait to taste you all over on Thursday.

  Me: I have big plans, but CeCe and friends want to see you on Friday. Hope that’s okay.

  Andy: I’d prefer you to myself, but I suppose we should be cordial.

  Andy: Buona note, cuore mio. Sweet dreams, and know I’m dreaming of all the things I plan on doing to you this weekend.

  I involuntarily shiver in anticipation. If you keep talking like that, I won’t be able to wait.

  Andy: Trust me, I feel the same. You taste better than the chocolate you left me.

  Me: Good night.

  Lying in bed, I’m getting nervous about joining him in Italy. I wish Sophia was coming—at least then I’d know someone. Apparently she hates these meetings. This just seems to be moving so quickly, something I’m not at all used to.

  All of his brothers and sisters will be there with their spouses and kids except for Sophia and her husband; his parents thrive on big tables. I grew up with our family dinner table often being either my mom and me and maybe a boyfriend of hers, but mostly eating by myself in front of the television or eating over the sink. Or my dad and the current wife and their kids. At the most at a table, there might have been five of us. Andy tells me there will be close to fifty people there. Just the thought gives me anxiety. I know many of them speak English, but his parents really don’t, so I’m not expecting to have many people to talk to.

  But despite all this trepidation, there’s something about going that just feels right. I want to see Andy with his family around him. How he responds. I wonder if they’ll act like Dillon, Trey, and Cameron did tonight at dinner—silly and completely immature.

  My mind wanders to Andy. I love the way his brown eyes light up when he talks about his family. He has six older brothers and four older sisters plus two younger brothers and two younger sisters. How did his mother manage that? I can’t even imagine.

  I wonder how alike they all look—though there’s no way they’re as handsome as my Andy.

  God, I miss him.

  Every day, I find myself thinking about
Andy while I should be working. We continue to trade a few saucy texts each day. We’re really building our foreplay with all this naughty talk, but we also share more and more about ourselves each day as well.

  While not a practicing Catholic, many of his opinions really dive deep into his upbringing, so I know when we’re at his parents’, we’ll be given different rooms. I’m a guest in their home, so that doesn’t bother me at all. I worry about being lonely at night, but he assures me that’s never an issue. We also talk about our work and our plans for the future. I’m surprised at how comfortable I am when we discuss a future together.

  I’m staring out my window, watching a sailboat tack hard across the whitecap waves on the bay, when my phone rings and brings me out of my trance. Looking at the caller ID, I see it’s CeCe. Before I can even say hello, she asks, “What time are we meeting at the pub tonight?”

  “The pub?”

  “Yes, you told Hadlee we could throw darts at Mark’s face tonight.”

  “I was only kidding.”

  “Well, we aren’t. Sounded fun to everyone else.”

  “You’re evil, you know that?”

  “Yes, and yet everyone who meets me loves me. What does that say?”

  Glancing around my desk, I see piles of papers and plenty to do that will keep me busy for the next millennium. “Okay, how about seven?”

  “Perfect. I’ll e-mail the girls, and they can alert their men.”

  A short time later, Emerson walks over and sticks her head in. “Did you drive today?”

  I look at the clock to find it’s well after six. Where did my afternoon go? “I did. Do you want a ride?”

  “Why don’t you leave your car here and we get a ride share? It’s going to be me, Dillon, and Cameron. Mason will swing by and pick up Annabel. Cynthia’s with a client and will meet us there.”

  “What about Sara and Trey?”

  “They’re going to meet us there, too. More wedding planning.”

  I believe “wedding planning” is their code for a nooner; they always look so relaxed and a bit flushed each time I see them.

  “That works. See you by the elevators at six forty-five?”

  “This is going to be so much fun.”

  I get to a decent stopping point in my work and meet everyone by the elevators. Cameron’s been texting Hadlee and has a goofy grin on his face. I would guess they share their own bit of saucy, naughty texts. I’ve known Cameron long enough to know he’s most likely up to no good. Hadlee is a perfect match for him.

  We all pile into the Nissan Armada ride share and head to our favorite pub. When we arrive, CeCe has a big sign outside the pub that says “Jennifer Chang for Congress.”

  I shake my head. She’s positively crazy, and I love her.

  She’s reserved the back room, and it’s stuffed full of people—ones I don’t know. “Who are all these people?” I mumble.

  She puts her arm around my shoulder and sheepishly explains, “Well, I might’ve called her office and told her what I was doing.”

  I hear “Bullseye” yelled over a group of people. There’s a buffet table piled high with bar food and a beer tap.

  Dillon kisses CeCe on the cheek, and in a convincing Irish brogue, he says, “Caroline, you’ve outdone yourself.” He hands her a $100 bill, and Emerson does the same, followed by everyone else.

  CeCe walks over to where a young woman is standing next to a box and puts the money in a slot on the top. “I need five bracelets, please.”

  The young girl counts out five of the same red plastic bracelets and hands them to CeCe. Everyone at our not-so-little fundraiser seems to be wearing one. CeCe hands everyone the bracelets that signify our admittance to the private party, then ushers us to a table in the corner where we all grab food from a well-stocked buffet.

  After filling our plates with typical bar food, we make our way to the table. Cynthia turns to me, “So, Mark Morris is your ex?”

  I nod. “He is. We dated for almost five years and were engaged at the end. I got him onto the city council and set up his platform, and then one day he decided I had too much baggage for politics.”

  “Sounds like a real jerk.” Cynthia may be new to our group, but she fits in just perfectly.

  “He is. I just hope this doesn’t make me seem petty.”

  “Not at all. You didn’t even know CeCe would go all out.”

  “Well, we’ve been friends for years. CeCe doesn’t do anything halfway.”

  She laughs hard. “So I’ve come to realize. I also think this party tells me to never piss her off.”

  I vigorously nod in agreement.

  Hadlee approaches the table with her arms open. “Leave it to her to organize a fundraiser around a joke.”

  “I know. I’m feeling a bit silly right now.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Cameron demands.

  Pictures are being taken, and I recognize it as one of CeCe’s contacts from the San Francisco Chronicle.

  This is going to end badly. I just know it.

  We all laugh as someone else yells, “Bullseye!”

  Usually, we don’t need an excuse to get together, but having this impromptu fundraiser really has been fun.

  As things begin to wind down, Jennifer, our guest of honor, arrives to thank everyone for coming and laughs when she sees the dartboard. We can’t convince her to throw any darts, but I understand why—that would make the national news, and not in a good way for her. We collected over ten thousand dollars, so she’s thrilled.

  CeCe points to me, and Jennifer nods and walks over.

  “You’re the one I have to thank for this.”

  “No, it was all Caroline, really. Hadlee”—I point to her—“had the idea, and Caroline ran with it.”

  “Well, he’s running a tough campaign, so I appreciate the last-minute fundraiser.”

  I motion for her to sit down and, after an internal debate, tell her, “One good way to turn his constituents against him is to ask him about his platform on the homeless in San Francisco. Chances are he’ll crumble, because I came up with it and managed it for him, and he really doesn’t understand it or quite frankly care about the homeless problem in The City.”

  “Thank you. I’ll have to do that.” She stands and extends a hand. “I’m really sorry for what he did to you, but you have some great friends who look like they’re taking good care of you.”

  “Enjoy your night, and good luck with the campaign. I hope you’re victorious.”

  She leaves, and before long we’re all making excuses to head out while the fundraiser rages on.

  I grabbed a Lyft home, and just as I begin to lie down, my cell phone pings. It’s Mark, which takes me by surprise. I haven’t heard hide nor hair from him in almost a year. You fucking bitch. I heard about your fundraiser. This is exactly why I dumped your ass. You’re as fucked up as your mother.

  I forward the text to CeCe. I guess he heard.

  CeCe: I could forward this along to the papers because of his slanderous words about mental health, but we’re just going to hold on to this for a while. Don’t let him get to you.

  Me: I promise. Looking forward to seeing Andy tomorrow.

  CeCe: See you Friday night. Promise not to mention Mark.

  CeCe’s fundraiser made the front page of the Local section of the Chronicle. She and the candidate were interviewed, positioning it as a feel-good for a friend he’d dumped. Mark was asked for a quote, and he responded with a veiled threat of his impending victory. He’s apparently forgotten what happens when you scorn CeCe, but that does explain his late-night text.

  Shortly after three, my cell phone pings with a message from Andy. I’m leaving now. Where should I meet you?

  Me: My place. It may take you over two hours to get here leaving now. I understand if you want to wait until after 7 so it’ll take about an hour.

  Andy: Can’t hold me back. I’m looking forward to seeing you and ravishing you all night.

  My insides go all go
oey, and I feel as if I’m walking on air. I text him my address and work a short while longer. Yesterday I got a fresh pedicure, and today at lunch I got a bikini wax, so I should be ready for our weekend.

  Just before five, I grab my things and head out. Emerson sees me and gives me a broad grin and a wave, mouthing, “Have fun.”

  I nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  One of the new guys in the bullpen says, “It must be nice to be a partner and get to leave early.”

  I’m annoyed by the comment, as these guys have no idea how much time the partners work. Then Mason steps out of his office, points to the man and asks, “Can you come in here, please?”

  I’d hate to be that guy right now. Mason’s not very forgiving when it comes to negative behavior.

  Making it home in record time, I arrive just as Andy does. A broad grin spreads quickly across his face as I walk up to him. “Perfect timing.”

  “You live in this building?” he asks.

  “I do. Grab your stuff and come upstairs.”

  We walk into the elevator and he pins me to the wall as we make out like two teenagers. Only when it dings upon our arrival at the penthouse do we break apart.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathes. I giggle and grab him by the hand, leading him into my apartment. “This is your place?”

  “Yes.” Now I’m starting to get nervous. We’ve never discussed our financial situations. He must know CeCe is one of those Arnaults, and I’ve told him we’ve been hanging out since childhood. My great-grandfather started a major transportation manufacturer. I inherited a few billion dollars at six years old, and with good financial planning, I’ve managed to double that. I work because I love my job and because I believe it helps me to keep a clear head and besides, what else would I do? Sit by a pool all day?

  “When you said you had an apartment that was from a friend’s mother, I didn’t expect it to be this grand.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Turning to me and taking me in his arms, he shares, “No. Not at all. I guess we’ll have to figure out what to get a girl who has everything.”

  “I don’t have everything. In fact, right now, I’m thinking I’m missing an orgasm or two.”