Heart Thief (Black Market Billionaire Book 1)

by Skylar Sweeney

  “At least one of these people is FBI, deep cover, trying to find dirt on Rex’s black market and arms dealings, and at least one is Secret Service, undercover to protect Rex from the FBI since he has Homeland Security and DOD contracts. Different government agencies can be bitchy like that. So if you are planning to try and claw Rex’s eyes out or something, please make sure you do it outside the building. Getting arrested is no fun. Especially by Feds. Trust me.”

  “Are you joking?” I murmured, and he leaned back, grinning broadly.

  “Of course I’m joking, girl! What are you, crazy?” But from the way he looked at me, I had a feeling that he wasn’t joking at all.

  Dear God. I was supposed to steal a heart while surrounded by federal agents, bad ass guys with really big guns, and a tiny Asian woman willing to execute people for borrowing paper clips? I had gotten myself in way too deep.

  “We have three labs on this floor,” Conner said, continuing the tour. “We call them the Three Ladies’ Labs since they’re all named after prominent women in Rex’s life. Greta’s Lab is where they develop new antipsychotic medications.”

  “Yikes,” I said, wondering what Rex’s fascination with that was. As well as who Greta might be. Not that I cared. Because I was totally never sleeping with the fucker. Or kissing him. Ever again.

  “Felicia’s Lab is mostly empty right now,” Conner continued, “but I guess you probably saw that.” He winked at me, making kissing noises, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Who is Felicia?” I asked. “Her name is on a picture on his wall, too.”

  Conner shrugged. “I guess you could say it’s the only woman he’s ever really loved.”

  “Oh?” I said, not liking that answer at all. “Is she his girlfriend?”

  “No,” Conner said. “Rex hasn’t had a girlfriend in, like, a decade. Except his insurance investigator, but she probably doesn’t count since she was grifting him. He has a tough time with women. Or, really, he has a tough time with his self-esteem, which hurts him when it comes to women.”

  Rex Bennett had a problem with his self-esteem? Somehow that idea was impossible for me to wrap my mind around.

  “The last door is Angela’s Lab. That’s where we study pollens to develop new antihistamines. It was named after his mother because she was like an allergy: She’d make your head ache, your eyes water, and your throat sore from all the screaming.”

  I shook my head, lip curling slightly at Rex’s lack of appreciation for his mother. “My mom’s dead,” I said in a flat tone. “She killed herself after my brother died.”

  Conner went silent for a long moment, then nodded and said in an equally flat tone, “Rex’s mother is dead, too. You don’t want to know what happened to her.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s really all there is to see. There are a dozen more floors dedicated to King Corp, but they’re just research labs, HR, and some accounting.”

  I had a feeling that the show was being cut short because of my attitude, and I felt a little bad. I really hadn’t needed to make that comment. My mom really wasn’t Rex’s fault, even if my brother was. She’d made her own choice. “Well, thanks for the tour. You’re a good guide. Maybe that can be your new job?”

  Conner laughed. “Maybe.” He paused. “Hey, I’m going out to a new club tonight for a friend’s birthday. Drinks are on the house. We have the VIP section. You want to come?”

  Drinks on the house? Sign me up.

  “Sure, sounds awesome.”

  “Great! Give me your number, and I’ll text you the address.”

  - mason -

  “Thanks,” I said as I handed the cabbie his fare and slammed the car door behind me, eyeing the line that wrapped around the building of the club with a certain amount of despair. Apparently I wouldn’t be making it inside anytime soon.

  Heart Attack was the name of the club, which I was sure Conner realized was a little ironic for me, with my history and all. I definitely should have gone straight from work if I wanted to get in quickly, but I couldn't resist the urge to dress up. According to the Google reviews, it was the new top spot in Manhattan, so I’d worn my sexiest LBD. It was short and sleeveless and made of material that shimmered under the lights. My boots came over the knee and had heels high enough to make my legs look fab, yet chunky enough to dance in.

  I was well aware that my uber long hair (yes, there were some top end extensions in there) was my best feature, and I was wearing it up on one side—braided around my head—and down on the other, the curls running along my body and spilling over my breasts.

  Overall, I looked fabulous, and I was ready to dance and to drink the night away. I would have to actually make it inside the club first, though.

  I sighed and began to walk toward the back of the line, texting Conner as I pushed my way through the glammed up girlfriends and ready-to-rock bromancers.

  MASON: i’m here but lines r 4ever

  CONNER: cum 2 front

  CONNER: COME not cum

  MASON: lmao

  I obeyed, making my way to the door. The Caucasian version of Shrek glared down at me, and I flashed him a nervous smile.

  “I’m here for a party. Conner Griffin?”

  The man nodded, muttering something into his walkie talkie. A minute later the rope was lifted and a thousand glares sliced through me from the line as I was waved into the club.

  My eyes widened as I took in the decor. It was done up mostly in red and black, with a shiny black dance floor, red lights tracing swirls out along the walls, and lights flashing overhead. Tables encircled the dance floor and a balcony looked down over it all. It definitely looked like the sort of place where you’d spend thirty bucks on a single drink.

  “HEY, MASON!” Conner shouted into my ear over the music, his hand coming down on my arm. I turned to take a look, and my mouth dropped. He looked amazing in his skin tight red t-shirt, slim charcoal trousers, and cream sports jacket. His pecs and abs bulged against the tee, and his package… well, it was making itself known inside those tight pants.

  The ladies sure got what they paid for with this one. Not quite as much as what I thought Rex had to offer, though. The man might not have brains, but he certainly had size. And money. And beauty. Fuck. I should really stop trying to pretend he wasn’t an amazing catch for anyone. Except me, because I had zero interest in him.

  I sighed at that thought, following behind Conner as he tugged me toward the far side of the club, where an area was sectioned off with a VIP sign and ropes. Walls cradled it on two sides, just enough to give a sense of privacy while still allowing a great view of the dance floor. Padded seats wrapped around the edges with a round table in the middle, creating a massive booth.

  Slumped down lazily on the padded bench was a man I instantly recognized from TV and magazines as Harrison Wentworth—because who didn’t know what the richest man in the world looked like? Though he was certainly hotter in person.

  “Hey, Sonny, this is Rex’s new woman,” Conner said, and my body tightened at the wording. “Mason.”

  The man glanced up, nodded, then returned to staring at his phone.

  “He’s watching his kid’s basketball game,” Conner explained. “He’s pissy about having to miss it for the party, while she’s pissy about missing her uncle’s party for the game, so ‘pissy’ has been the word of the night for those two.”

  “The bartenders here are useless,” a voice I knew said, and I turned to see Valentine behind me, holding a pair of drinks that he distributed to Sonny and Conner. “I tasted them, and they put in way too little liquor. I made them redo them.”

  “Thanks, mate,” Conner said, rolling his eyes.

  “No problem,” Valentine said cheerfully as he dropped down into the booth. “This place is filthy, too. Three weeks open, and it’s a mess. Doesn’t anyone know how to clean? Also, the manager is using the office computer to search for porn of busty women having sex with vacuum cleaners.”

  “Kinky,” Sonny said dryly, an
d Valentine giggled.

  “Well, they know how to suck, right?” a voice I recognized too well said, and I stiffened as Rex walked up to the table, his eyes going wide when they found me—and my eyes going wide when I saw the woman wrapped around him.

  Surely this wasn’t Felicia?

  “What are you doing here?” Rex said, looking more than a little embarrassed as he adjusted the extremely busty redhead on his hip. Fake redhead, I might add. Not to mention fake busty.

  “Conner invited me,” I replied with a scowl. “What are you doing here? Stalking me again? Your girlfriend there looks like she dyed her hair to match mine. Talk about kinky.”

  Valentine giggled again, and Conner covered his mouth like he was trying to hold his own laughs back, while Sonny just continued watching his basketball game.

  “Well?” I demanded when Rex simply stared at me with something like disbelief.

  “It’s my birthday,” Rex finally replied in a dry tone. “And my club.”

  My face went redder than his slut’s hair.

  “You!” I snapped, spinning around to glare at Conner. “You did this on purpose!”

  “Of course I did,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s not like I lied. I said it was my friend’s birthday and drinks were on the house. Rex is my friend, and he’s paying the tab. Since he is the house, well…”

  “Give me one good reason not to chop your balls off and feed them—”

  “Calm down, Mason,” Rex said in a commanding tone, the hand not wrapped around his redheaded slut clamping down on my arm. “Conner is a shit, but there’s no need to threaten his only money makers.”

  I stiffened at the words, pulse rising and my breath coming a little too fast as I stared up at him. My mind was screaming at me to get up and walk off, but my body… My body seemed to like the way he talked to me in such a powerful tone.

  I licked my lips, swallowed, then slowly turned toward Conner. “I’m sorry, Conner, threatening to feed you your balls probably was a little over the top. But seriously, man? That was low.”

  “She’s right, dude,” Rex said as he collapsed onto the bench next to Sonny, pulling his living blowup doll onto his lap. “I told you not to invite her, because I had," he cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, "other plans.”

  “Because he invited me instead,” the girl crooned, and I had the luxury of seeing Rex blush bright red as he glanced toward me.

  “Shut up, Bambi,” he muttered, and my eyes widened at the ridiculous name.

  Bambi? Was this chick a hooker? Why would a man who looked like Rex bring a hooker to his own birthday party? Every woman in this bar probably wanted him!

  I sighed, feeling frustrated. I’d gotten fabulous, had been ready to party, only to find myself at the birthday of the man I hated—and who didn’t want me here. I scowled, narrowing my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “You know what, just chill and have a drink, Mason,” Rex said as Bambi pawed at him. “You’re here, you look like a fucking goddess… Why waste it all? Everyone here other than Bambi knows you hate my guts—”

  “Bambi, I hate his guts,” I interrupted, and Sonny smirked.

  “—so we all know that you staying doesn’t mean you like me,” he finished.

  “You sleep with whores often, Rex?” I asked, hoping I could make him blush again. “I hope you use rubbers.”

  “I use them with my whores, don’t I, Bambi?” he replied, the red face apparently having been a one time thing.

  “Yup, you do,” she replied cheerfully, sounding like she had an IQ just high enough to use it as a definition of your senior year in high school. “Is she your wife?”

  Rex looked down at her like she was insane. “I’m not married, Bambi. You know that.”

  “Do you have to be married to have a wife?” she asked, and the table went silent for a long moment before Valentine let out one of his freaky little giggles.

  “I like her. Can I have her, Mr. Rex?”

  “No,” he said flatly, and Bambi pouted.

  “I’m going to get a drink,” I said, standing up. A moment later Bambi was sitting on the floor, looking dazed from the hard shove, and Rex was standing beside me.

  No wonder women were scared of him. But damn, was his strong-armed way of doing things hot.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said. “Anyone else want anything? No? Great. Let’s go.”

  I yelped as the manwhore grabbed me by the waist and practically carried me to bar, most of my weight off the floor and supported by his pumped up arm.

  “Happy Birthday, Rex,” the bartender called out as Rex pushed paying customers out of the way to make room for us, and I was squeezed into the bar next to him. Shockingly, the paying customers didn’t try to fight it out with the nearly seven foot man with the gun on his hip. “The usual?”

  “Please,” Rex said with a nod. “Mason?”

  “Scotch, single malt, neat,” I said to the bartender. “Whatever you recommend.” I glanced over at Rex. “Since it’s on his tab.”

  “Scotch, huh?” Rex’s lip quirked up. “I’d say I was surprised if you hadn’t stolen a bottle of 30 year Balvenie from my apartment two years ago.”

  I grimaced. “Yeah, I didn’t actually realize it was a thousand dollar bottle when I stole it. I was just trying to piss you off. I, um, appreciate you not pressing charges on that one.”

  Rex shrugged. “Most of my whiskies get drunk straight from the bottle on Friday nights while I binge watch reruns of Supernatural, so it’s not as if it had a better fate awaiting it at my place.”

  “From what the gossip columns claim, I’d have thought you spend your Fridays in places like this,” I said, glancing around the packed club. “Looking for ladies you can throw around like Bambi back there. Maybe having sex in the men’s room or something.”

  Rex chuckled. “The gossip columns are full of shit I feed them to keep them off my back. Honestly, I don’t even want to be here tonight, but Conner fucking insisted. He thinks I’m too much of an introvert or some crap.”

  “So you decided to bring bimbo Bambi with you so you could sit her on your lap, tell her to shut up, and play with her tits?” I asked, doing my best to make it sound like I couldn’t care less.

  Rex sighed. “My therapist says all that stuff is my father’s fault—classic daddy issues.” Rex shrugged. “But she says seeing call girls is cool as long as everybody involved is down with it and they’re getting paid well. Considering I’m paying five thousand dollars a night to fuck most of them, I’ve never actually had any complaints from the women.” He paused. “Well, I’ve totally had them tell me I was lousy in bed, but not in a ‘you treated me bad, you mean man’ sort of way.”

  I cocked my head, looking at him with amusement. “You don’t have a lot of shame, do you? You say a lot of stuff that most of the men I know wouldn’t be caught dead thinking, much less saying aloud. I noticed yesterday, too, when you were talking about Mrs. Cho and toilet paper.”

  Rex chuckled. “I grew up in a place where having any kind of shame would get your ass kicked. My father expected my brother and I to say or do anything he wanted us to just for the joy of knowing he made us do it. Spend enough years admitting to embarrassing shit, and it’s just not embarrassing to admit to things anymore.”

  “Isn’t your father a Senator?” I said, shaking my head in disbelief, and Rex nodded.

  “Yeah. There’s a reason he has a Congressional Gold Medal and not a Father of the Year coffee mug.”

  Rex smiled in appreciation as the bartender set down a shot of Jager in front of him, then an empty shot glass along with a can of Red Bull. He poured the Red Bull into the glass as the bartender set down my Scotch, then he tipped back both shots, one after the other, slamming the glasses back down on the bar.

  “Another?” he asked, and Rex nodded. “Hell, I’ll just bring the bottle. No one else has been drinking Jager tonight, and God knows you need it.”

  “Thanks, man,” h
e muttered, letting out a sigh as he sat down on the stool. I settled onto the one next to him, frowning slightly.

  I really shouldn’t care that Rex was obviously depressed, considering that his misery was my goal in life, but somehow knowing it was his birthday and he was obviously having a shitty time just made me feel bad for the guy.

  The Jager bottle was set in front of Rex, and he picked it up, sipping straight from it then letting out another sigh before chugging another gulp of Red Bull.

  I took a sip of my Scotch and let it roll over my tongue as I eyed him, unsure of what I could possibly say to make it better.

  “Whatever you’re planning… it doesn’t really matter, you know,” Rex spoke up after several minutes of us sitting in silence, sipping hard alcohol and pretending to be friends.

  I gave him a tight smile. “You may not have much faith in my abilities, Rex, but I’m more capable than you realize.”

  Rex snorted, shaking his head. “That wasn’t what I meant. I know damn well you’re capable, Mason. I’m sure if your goal was to put me in the ground, I’d have been dead long ago. You’d probably be in prison, but I’d still be dead. I meant that your plan doesn’t matter, because nothing you can do will make things worse than they already are.”

  I took in a slow breath, watching as his shoulders hunched over the bar and his brow wrinkled up. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, wishing I could bring back the smiling man he’d been earlier that day.

  Rex stared down at the bottle in his hands like it held the answers to the universe.

  “I have no family that loves me. I have to pay women to be with me, because I scare away the kind of women who might be willing to love me. Believe it or not, I actually have the weakest stomach and the most empathetic personality out of all the men I call my Brothers, which likely tells you what kind of men they are. And what kind of man I am. The brother I love more than anything in the world despises me, which is no surprise considering I still have nightmares about the kind of abuse he went through—not to mention the times I was forced to participate in it. Oh yeah, and I’m dying. Can’t forget that one. They say I probably have five to six years left before I’m in the ground.” He looked over at me. “So seriously, Mason, you might as well let it go. I promise you, the punishment you want for me? It’s my life.”