Scandalous Billionaire (Titans Book 5)

by Sierra Cartwright

  Their shared moment was interrupted by a server offering wine. Rafe accepted, but Braden declined, as did Lizzie. Julien Bonds wanted almost a billion dollars from tonight’s invitees. Since Braden had brought the heavy-hitters together and paid for the function, he stood to collect a hefty commission.

  The gamble might be too risky for some, or all. If that was the case, he’d be out the money he’d fronted.

  However, if everything went as well as he hoped, he and Lizzie would have even more to celebrate later with the champagne she’d sent to the suite. For now, he needed to keep his brain clear. Or as clear as it could be when he was drowning in the headiness of her sweet scent.

  One thing was certain—in the future, he couldn’t go days and days without making love to her. He craved—no, needed—his connection with her.

  Rafe cleared his throat, interrupting Braden’s thoughts. It took effort to refocus on his friend.

  “Elizabeth and I were just going over the final details.”

  “Dinner is at nine, followed by coffee and liqueurs.” Lizzie picked up the conversation. “The presentation will begin at ten o’clock. We’ll end with a dessert bar.”

  “The link-up with Bonds has been tested, I presume?” Of course, the elusive Julien had no intention of actually gracing the event with his larger-than-life presence. Instead, he planned to project in, and God only knew how.

  Rafe nodded. “Penn himself was here to run a test with Grant.”

  Though Grant Kingston was vocal about his preference to stay in his private retreat—a cavelike home built into a mountain in New Mexico—he now spent most of his time in California running the Bonds empire so Julien could cultivate new ideas.

  Penn—no first name, no last name—was legendary, and one scary motherfucker. He was an associate of Julien’s, but even he didn’t call the man a friend.

  During his years in the military, Penn was highly decorated, renowned for his intelligence as well as his stone-cold bravery. His hue was as dark as the shadows in which he loomed, and he was not an average man. Known as the Equalizer, he stood taller than most, and his smoldering black eyes were the expression of the intensity in his soul.

  There was credible evidence that he was under investigation by numerous law enforcement agencies around the world. So far—maybe with the help of Bonds?—no one had been able to make anything stick.

  Through various offshore companies, Penn had risked his cash with Braden a number of times, and the amounts had been significant.

  Hope, Rafe’s fiancée, walked into the room and waved in their direction.

  “If you’ll excuse me?”

  While his friend went to greet her, Braden seized the opportunity to kiss Lizzie again, this time the way he wanted to.

  Her tongue danced with his, and she leaned into him to wrap her arms around his neck. She tasted sweet—of promise and the future. No matter how long he lived, he would never get enough of her.

  Before he was ready to let her go, she eased away from him, leaving him desperate for more. “I’m thinking of telling Bonds to fuck off and dragging you upstairs.”

  “You won’t.” She smiled. “You’ve got too much at stake.”

  How well she knew him and understood the risks. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted.

  Hope and Rafe joined them, and Braden was pleased when Hope hugged Lizzie. He liked that his future wife already had a relationship with his best friend’s betrothed.

  “We have to do lunch,” Hope told Lizzie. “Or maybe a girls’ night out.”

  “Not until after I get her back from vacation.” He glanced at Rafe. “She has a very demanding boss.”

  Lizzie’s scowl was so fierce it would have scared the hell out of a lesser man.

  When she addressed Rafe, her tone was firm. “Braden is speaking on his own behalf. I have no complaints about my job or the hours.”

  “Rafe’s jealous of my time too,” Hope said.

  Braden bristled. “I’m not—”

  The women interrupted in unison. “You are.”

  Outnumbered, knowing he was beat, he shrugged.

  The arrival of a server with a tray of wine for Hope saved him.

  Within minutes, Zane Kentwood the entered the room, and Braden excused himself to greet the fellow Titan. Though they might be considered rivals of sorts, Braden admired the man recognized as one of the most aggressive managers at Bradford Capital.

  The firm was based on the East Coast and was regarded as one of the top ten hedge funds in the world. Because of his skill and thirst for risk, Kentwood had amassed a stunning fortune of his own, and he was here at Julien’s request.

  Lizzie joined them, and she greeted Kentwood with genuine warmth. Her confidence, brilliant conversational skills, and uncanny ability to remember names and meaningful details about people had endeared her to his colleagues and friends. She made a hell of a partner in business and in life. Odd to think that just six months ago he wouldn’t have believed that was possible.

  When Celeste Fallon—as regal as an avenging angel—arrived, electricity zapped across the air. Along with Rafe, she served on the Zeta Society’s steering committee. A Fallon had been a founding member back in the 1800s, and ever since then, the family’s law and public relations firm had been making problems go away for high-profile clients. She knew everyone’s dirtiest little secrets, some of them dating back several generations. When it suited her, she had no qualms about using them to her advantage. Braden liked her. Respected her. Appreciated her services.

  “If you’ll excuse us?”

  “I’ve wanted to meet you.” She studied Lizzie as they shook hands.

  “It’s my pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Your name has come before the membership committee.”

  Lizzie’s smile faltered before she caught herself. “I understand there’s quite a waitlist.”

  If Braden were holding a glass, he’d tip it her direction. Her nonanswer was perfect. She didn’t fawn or ask if Celeste knew the status, which undoubtedly she did. Nothing happened in the organization without Celeste being aware of it.

  While Hope wandered over to say hello to Celeste, Rafe greeted Kentwood. The small gathering was almost complete and couldn’t be going any better. Kentwood was sipping cognac, and Celeste passed on wine in favor of champagne. But the alcohol was doing its job, allowing conversation to flow.

  Next to arrive was Kian Brannigan. Since they hadn’t been in contact for over a year, Braden was surprised when the RSVP arrived. As usual, Kian wore a casual jacket. He’d skipped a tie, and he’d left a couple of buttons open on his shirt. His face bore several days’ growth, and his hair looked as if it only had a passing acquaintance with a brush.

  Presumably from working on his motorcycle, the knuckles of his tattooed hands sported several fresh cuts.

  When offered a glass of wine, he asked for something stronger. “Whiskey?”

  “Of course, sir. Any particular brand?”

  Kian named a single malt. “Make it a double.”

  When they were alone, he studied the man that no one knew well. “How are you doing?”

  “Had a lead a couple of weeks ago.”

  The hollowness in Kian’s response matched the flatness in his eyes, telling Braden all he needed to know.

  Though his only sibling had been born premature and passed shortly thereafter, he couldn’t begin to understand the living hell that was Kian’s life. When he was young, he lost his parents and little sister in a plane crash. While the bodies of his mother, father, and the pilot had been recovered, Sara had never been found.

  After the tragedy, Kian had run away often and gotten into trouble, and God knew where he’d have ended up without his uncle, not that the man was any type of good influence.

  Everything Kian did was focused around his never-ending quest to find out what happened to Sara.

  “Fuck.” The drink arrived, and he downed it in a single gulp.

  Braden signaled to the s
erver for another.

  Just then, Hope wandered over to say hello. Her smile was warm, and Kian responded in kind, the first positive emotion Branden ever remembered seeing from the haunted man.

  About five minutes before nine, Braden excused himself to greet Dominic Ricci and his right-hand man. While Braden and the other gentlemen were in sports coats, Ricci and Sorensen wore bespoke suits. Dominic, with his square jaw and his hair raked back from his forehead, projected an aura of danger and invincibility, suitable for his place among the most respected—and feared—men in the Texas business world.

  At the top of the hour, Lizzie let people know that dinner was being served. Since Penn still hadn’t arrived, Braden sent him a text message.

  Once everyone else was in the space reserved for the meal, he followed. The guests were finding their place cards and taking their seats at the round table. That had been one of his few contributions to the planning sessions. At an event with people accustomed to commanding the utmost respect, he didn’t want any seat to seem more important than another.

  Servers offered wine, and Penn’s empty chair was obvious.

  Two magnificent iced seafood towers were already in place when the man arrived. The air chilled, and talking ceased. Penn swept his gaze over the gathered people before acknowledging Rafe.

  Braden stood to greet the late arrival, who wore aviator sunglasses, a leather bomber jacket, black jeans, and a ball cap bearing the Bonds logo. Tonight, instead of running shoes, he wore boots. With their battle scars, they were serviceable rather than dressy. “Glad you’re here.”

  The man’s handshake was firm and strong, and Braden had no doubt there was restraint behind it.

  When he spoke, Penn’s deep voice was emotionless. “Bonds has his ways.”

  “Indeed.” Which was why Braden had been convinced to assemble this group of individuals.

  Penn removed his hat from his clean-shaven head and tucked the bill in his back pocket. Then he took off his glasses and slid them inside his jacket. In the year or so since Braden last saw the other man, the lines between his eyebrows had become deeper entrenched. Though it shouldn’t be possible, the faint scar on his cheekbone seemed even longer, more jagged.

  Lizzie joined them. “Hello, Penn.”

  “Elizabeth.” He took her hand, and his grip was loose, gentle, nothing like the one he’d used with Braden.

  Lizzie knew the man? “The fuck?” Braden slid a possessive arm around her waist.

  “Easy.” Penn released Elizabeth, then grinned, knocking a decade off his face. “Nothing to worry about. I met Elizabeth this afternoon when we were doing the AV check.”

  That his sweet, innocent Lizzie didn’t actually know the Equalizer was a small comfort.

  “The royal red shrimp are divine.” Lizzie was the consummate hostess, and for that Braden was grateful. Then she went on, as if he didn’t have a tight grip on her. “Have you tried them?”

  Penn shook his head.

  “They taste a bit like lobster. I think you’ll enjoy them.”

  Trust her to smooth the situation.

  The threesome returned to the table, and Braden performed introductions. It was only a minute later, when Lizzie placed her hand on his thigh, that he relaxed.

  Her touch reassured him and strengthened their bond. What the ever-living hell was wrong with him, anyway? He’d never experienced even a hint of jealousy in any other relationship. So it didn’t make sense now. She wore his ring and met his carnal desires with ones of her own. One thing was sure—he couldn’t punch the living shit out of every man she came in contact with.

  As the main course was served, Rafe asked Penn a question, and Braden relaxed.

  The camaraderie he’d been hoping to foster developed as the meal progressed. By the time Lizzie mentioned that a dessert bar would open after the presentation, people had angled their chairs in order to engage in deep discussions.

  He couldn’t hope for a better atmosphere when asking people for a shitpile of money that might vanish into celluloid history.

  A symphonic explosion of sound rocked the space, and steam billowed from all corners and the overhead vents.

  Braden swung his gaze from Rafe to Penn. “What the fuck?”

  “A genius is trying to reach you.”

  “That would be Bonds.” Penn’s words were somewhat unnecessary.

  “I’m as surprised as you are.” Rafe shook his head. “I wasn’t invited to the test run.”

  Penn lifted one shoulder. “The music? That’s his theme song.”

  “You’re serious?” What kind of person had their own actual score?

  As the decibels lowered to slightly less than hearing damaging, a shimmering 3D Bonds figure appeared at the edge of the table. He was dressed—or rather the image was—in a tuxedo with tails. In typical Bonds fashion, the bow tie wasn’t black. Instead, he’d opted for some sort of bizarre color. In addition, the loops were limp and different sizes. Did the man own a mirror? A top hat was perched cockily on his head. He held a vaudeville-like cane, which he brandished about like a sword.

  “A mixed metaphor.” Penn reached for his coffee. “But I like it.”

  Then as everyone watched, rapt with shock and awe, the image tap-danced.

  Lizzie leaned toward Braden and whispered against his ear. “I love his athletic shoes.”

  “They’re”—Braden blinked at the neon-bright atrocities—“purple.”

  “More like violet. They coordinate with his bow tie.”

  “They do?”

  Still tapping—and how was it possible for sneakers to make that sound?—Julien, or his apparition, moved to a platform in the middle of the table. Platform? More like a stage, complete with steps for him to ascend.

  By the time he was in place, the center of attention, the music cut off, making the sudden silence shocking. Braden’s ears were ringing.

  “Felicitations, one and all.” Julien looked directly at Braden. “Thank you for putting this together.”

  At first, Braden thought Julien’s hologram was preprogrammed, but he was interacting as if he were actually in the room.

  “And I adore your future wife. Very competent.” The image turned a bit, and he blew a kiss toward Lizzie. “Thank you. If you’re ever looking for a job—”

  “She’s not.” Rafe’s interruption was met by a round of laughs.

  “The offer stands. And you, Rafe… Your hotel is stupendous. Makes me want to travel to Texas.”

  “Obviously not enough to actually get you out of Silicon Valley.”

  He ignored the comment entirely and moved on. “Hope, my love. Beautiful as ever. I have someone in need of your matchmaking services.” He shuddered. “Even with my remarkable talents, I’ve failed spectacularly. He’s about to drive me mad with his maudlin ways. Bothersome, really.”

  Julien went on, greeting Celeste, Kian, Zane, Dominic, and Devin. Very smart, since Bonds wanted more than a hundred million dollars from each potential investor, but couldn’t even get on a plane to join them in person. He ended by thanking Penn for his help. “May I direct your attention…here.” He pointed to the front wall with his cane, which had somehow morphed into a light saber.

  Then, a movie began to play. It only took a few seconds to realize this was the film that had made Julien livid.

  Though Braden had expected Julien’s presentation to be unusual, this was beyond anything he’d believed possible.

  “Awful. Terrible. Vile.” Bonds waved the saber wildly. “Amateur hour. A gaggle of giraffes could have done better!”

  To Braden, the special effects appeared stunning. But Penn was nodding as Bonds spoke.

  Minutes later, the film froze on an image of a car flying across a ravine.

  “This is a travesty of filmmaking. Look at this. An embarrassment among embarrassments. An insult to my poor eyes. Tragic.”

  Braden glanced at the other guests. From their frowns, he gathered they were as perplexed by this as he was.
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br />   “If people weren’t insipidly stupidly uninspired, willing to settle for technology six months old, this, this—this!—is what the scene would look like.” He shivered as the movie started over.

  Even though Braden didn’t know specifically what to watch for, the differences were subtle but profound. The colors were crisper, the images sharper, with more depth, almost as if they were viewing in 3D, but without needing glasses. The sound bounced off the walls, shaking Braden’s chair.

  The film froze in exactly the same place

  “Genius. Absolutely genius. Am I right?”

  The lights came up, and Braden hadn’t even been consciously aware that they’d been lowered.

  As if it were a living thing, enthusiasm rippled through the atmosphere.

  “And now each of you have the opportunity to be part of something spectacular. This.”

  Though Braden had prepped everyone in advance, Julien made his announcement as if no one knew what was going on.

  “Genius Works is my new company, and we’ll be making the best movies, with the best technology on the planet. Together, you and I—or is it you and me? Well, us, all of us—will dazzle the world. Red carpets!” He brandished his saber, the light now the same shade of green as money, and Braden pulled back when the thing got too close.

  Then he shook his head. The thing was an illusion, but it had seemed real enough to zap him.

  “Trophies.”

  “Awards?” Penn asked.

  “As long as they’re gold!” Bonds preened. “And we will have more releases than anyone. Move fast. Hire the best talent. Big productions, small ones. And, and…” He looked into the distance. “Our own streaming service?”

  Zane Kentwood, in his bold yet practical way, spoke up. “A step at a time, Bonds.”

  “Yes. Yes. So…how much can I count on you for?”

  “You interested in Bradford Capital funds?”

  “No. This is a private endeavor. For…” He paused. “Brilliant strategists.”

  “Meaning you don’t want to answer to anyone but yourself.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way.”

  Zane waited.

  “Fine.” He huffed. “I’m tired of small minds.” Then he doffed his hat. “Which you clearly are not. I’m correct, am I not?”