Bad Boy Hero: A Romantic Suspense

by Adair Rymer

  I checked my phone on the short walk over to my coffee maker. I set it down on the counter and read the always-condescending email from my boss, while my hands automatically did the morning coffee-making ritual.

  I skimmed the barely punctuated walls of email text to find the point of the messages. I'd never met a woman like my boss, Brenda. She could ramble with both her mouth and her fingers. How did this women work in finances for a college this big?

  Almost a page later, I found what I was looking for. “The numbers in your report are incorrect, we need it redone by Monday.” We always meant you, as far as she was concerned.

  Monday? Did she really have no idea how much work that was? That last report took me two weeks! How did she expect me to comb through every single student's grant paperwork in two days! I was only a lowly part-time clerk and researcher, I didn't even have access to most of the necessary filing software. I'd have to go through everything manually again.

  It was Christmas eve, there was no way the archive room was even open today!

  “I may not have friends, but at least I have a fun, rewarding career...” I thought, darkly, blowing on my too-hot-to-drink coffee, and wishing I still had some cream liqueur to add to it.

  There was no way I was working through my holiday weekend for a boss I hated, I thought, defiantly. I had real school work to think about!

  I needed to find another throw away job. Was it even worth it though? I only had six months left for my bachelor's degree, then I would have to start searching for real. Despite my boss, I actually loved the work I did. It was hard, tedious work, but helping people afford a higher education was such a satisfying feeling.

  “Oh, God!” I spat out the sip of coffee I'd taken all over a small stack of envelopes I hadn't opened yet. The bitter taste screwed my face into a scowl. I forgot that I bought the cheapo coffee.

  I started drying off the envelopes with a handful of stolen dining hall napkins, but when I realized they were just bills, I stopped. Why waste perfectly good napkins on bills I can't afford to pay anyways. That was the other reason I wouldn't quit my job, I just couldn't afford to.

  I hated being a broke college student. I couldn’t even afford drinkable coffee. At least dining hall sugar packets would help. I might've even had some milk left, maybe? When I reached for the fridge to check, I saw one of my bills attached to the door by one of my magnets.

  'Thanks for the workout last night. Be ready at six p.m.,' read the note written on the envelope.

  Workout? I covered my face with my hand in shame. “I did a split for him last night. I haven't done a split in years.” I can't believe I did that for a total stranger. Was I out of my mind?

  What kind of hold did he have on me,that I would even consider doing that? I felt so stupid, like I was trying to impress him or something.

  Also, 'six PM'? Be ready for what? What could that possibly mean?

  I quickly browsed through my texts and contacts. Nothing. He wasn't in there anywhere, I couldn't even ask him if I wanted to. I couldn't remember his name. I pulled the paper off the fridge and reread it a dozen times. What could I have agreed to? Then I flipped the envelope over.

  'P.S. The name's Maynard, by the way.' Maynard... I definitely would've remember that name. Maynard didn't leave a number or even a last name. Unless that was his last name, but who would just leave their last name? With all those tattoos, Maynard didn't strike me as a secret agent.

  “I don't think so, Maynard.” I slid the bill into the bottom of my pile. We had our whatever-that-was, but I was done making a fool of myself for one weekend. I didn't have enough info to act on his note if I wanted to.

  Be ready where? My apartment? Or did I say I was going to meet him somewhere?

  Besides, I was sure that he'd never show even I did 'get ready'. Guys like Maynard liked the thrill of the hunt, but were never satisfied with the feast. It was good that he was gone, he was probably just like Chance.

  Been there, done that.

  Wait, the numbers were wrong? That fog and lust started to finally lift and give me back control over my mind. That didn't make any sense. I was always super thorough. The numbers were right, they had to be. I was so sure of it.

  At least I thought I was?

  Working with other peoples money was the worst. I laid my forehead down on the counter. At least if I worked at the coffee shop and I screwed up someone's order I wouldn't get fired. Maybe I should just quit?

  Dread sat in my stomach like lead. Who was I kidding? I couldn't quit without having another job. I took a long bitter sip of my coffee, then set it down to go hop in the shower. I needed to get to the archive room at work as quickly as possible. Maybe if I brought in a small sample size on Monday, that would be enough?

  Probably not, but I had to try. I sighed as the hot water washed the last traces of Maynard from my skin. It looked like I was working through Christmas after all.

  ****

  I passed through the finance building's front entrance, still jotting down notes from the inconsistencies I found while searching through the files. It was dark and cold outside, by the time I finished working for the night. The harsh December winds threatened to rip the scrap of paper out of my hand.

  It was impossible to check all the files in the six hours I was allowed to be in the building. I was right about the office being closed, but I was able to convince the security guard that it was extremely urgent. I hoped I'd be lucky enough to do the same tomorrow, I needed all the time I could get.

  I was so angry and singularly focused on my project that I didn't notice the man holding the sign until I almost collided with him. The man was bundled up, in a dark suit and tie and wore a chauffeur’s cap. The name on the sign made me do a double take.

  'Claire' it read, in bold letters.

  “Is that you, ma'am.” The older gentleman with the sign, politely asked. “Are you Claire?”

  I glanced quickly to either side, to see if I could spot any cameras filming me. This couldn't be right. I'd never been picked up by a driver before. I'd only ever even used a taxi a few times.

  “I'm A Claire,” I said hesitantly, looking past the professionally-dressed man.

  The white Rolls Royce gleamed in the overhead streetlights. I half expected prince charming to step out of the vehicle. Or, I would've if I hadn't spotted a commercial-use inspection sticker.

  “From the description Master Maynard Cooper gave me, I do believe that you are the correct Claire.”

  Maynard? The guy from last night? What the hell? A million questions rattled around my head. Was he some sort of nobility or something? “What's all this about.”

  “You've been invited to a private function. It's something of an exclusive holiday party.”

  “There must be some kind of mistake,” I looked at him with blatant skepticism. “I barely know Maynard.”

  “You must have made some kind of impression on him, Miss. As you were the only guest he charged me with personally collecting.”

  Collecting? Was that supposed to be flattering?

  “What if I say no?” A casual hook-up was a mistake I could live with. But if I kept doing it, it wouldn't be casual anymore, nor would it be a mistake. And I wasn't ready for that, not yet. I didn't care how rich this guy was, or how good he smelled, or how many times he made me come...

  “Then I would drive you back to your apartment, if you wish.” The driver replied without hesitation.

  There were no direct trains from home to work, and because it was Saturday, I had to transfer twice. It took me forever to get here today, and I really wasn't looking forward to a few frozen hours outside trying to get back home. My hands were already starting to get numb from the wind.

  I took a moment to Google 'Maynard Cooper'. This whole thing was almost too crazy to believe. Who knows? This driver could work for a serial killer, and it was his job to deliver confused, partially-frozen, blond girls to his Master.

  Maynard Cooper, there he was. I thumbe
d through a few tabs on my phone. Those crushing blue eyes and fierce jaw line, it was him alright. Apparently, my mysterious stranger was a billionaire with an affinity for extreme sports. That would explain the tattoos, I guess.

  His parents built their empire off real estate and were apparently well known philanthropists, having set up several charitable organizations. Tragically they died in a car accident ten years ago, leaving their fortune to Maynard and his sister, Bianca. I wanted to research him more, but it was just too cold for that. It felt like my thumbs were about to fall off.

  What did the man who could have everything, want with me?

  “Why me?” My teeth were beginning to chatter. Ugh, I hated the cold so much! Why did I have to come to school so far north! The freezing temperature made even thinking difficult.

  “I wouldn't presume to know, Miss. Master is a man of...” The driver thought on this for a second. “Very particular taste.”

  Was that a warning or an explanation? Either way, it sent I shiver through me that no cold blast ever could. It felt dangerous, but thrilling all at the same time. An impossible dream

  “Would you care to sit inside while you make your decision?” The chauffeur opened the backseat car door. Heat rushed out and wrapped me like a warm blanket.

  “What is that?” I looked inside to see a hanging black garment bag hanging.

  The driver reached in, laid it across the seats and unzipped it to about the halfway point. “A shirtwaist Herrera taffeta ball gown. Your attire for the evening, Ma'am.” He paused,then continued, “Should you chooses to accept, of course.”

  Oh, wow.... It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in person. It was vintage, elegant and captivating. The gown consisted of a black-buttoned white top, with French cuffs and a pleated black skirt. My hands were shaking as I reached out for the decadent silk fabric.

  Everything about this screamed- too good to be true, run away!'

  The driver slid a deft hand in the bag and revealed a wide black strap, that seemed to be attached to the gown. “Master Cooper made sure to note that this gown also came with a belt. He said you would would know what that means.”

  Fiery roses bloomed in my cheeks. This time it wasn't from just the cold. What a jerk! I still couldn't help, but smile a little.

  With the building locked, it wasn't like I could do any more work on that project tonight. When things sounded too good to be true, they usually were. Could I really go home and watch TV, knowing I passed up an opportunity like this? The heat billowing out of the back of the car was heavenly.

  “This is an actual party, right? Like, with other people? Not just Maynard.” I couldn't think about being alone with him and not think about the way he lit all my senses on fire last night. For as much fun as that was, I was nobody's booty call.

  “Yes, ma'am. Guests will be flying in from all over the world to attend.”

  “OK,” I said, sliding into the warm cushioned seats. I'm just going to check it out, then leave. What's the harm in looking anyway?

  Chapter 3

  Claire

  We pulled up to this titan of concrete and glass, spotlight beams from the roof pierced the clouds. It was the biggest hotel in the city. It might've been the biggest building period in the city.

  The M Hotel. Of course Maynard would name the thickest, most erect thing around after himself. He was obviously full of himself, but almost twenty-four hours ago, I was full of him too. Sweaty flashes of desperate, groping hands and his cock firing like a piston made me gasp in air and hold it. I fanned myself quickly before the chauffeur could open my door to keep the heat from showing on my face.

  “Here you are, ma'am.” My door swung open and the driver extended a hand to help me out. I took it. This dress was beautiful, but elaborate. I still wasn't all that confident that I wouldn't step wrong and fall on my face.

  I think I'd passed The M once on a bus in the middle of the day, but I'd never seen it up close before. I was so mesmerized by the building's marble and crystal archway entrance, that I hadn't even properly thanked the chauffeur.

  Shit, was I supposed to tip him?

  I had no idea. I knew how to split a check and call for a ride share, but I'd never done any of this before. I reached for my purse and turned back toward him, but he was already gone.

  Now I was completely alone.

  Beautiful people passed me as I stood on the stairs awkwardly deciding if I was going to go in or run away. I didn't get anxious too often, but most of the time I didn't leave my comfort zone. I swallowed my apprehension and walked inside.

  All the guests seemed to be checking in with a man by the elevators, so I got in line and waited my turn. The whole thing went pretty quick, I just hoped I was on the list. I shook the silly idea out of my head. Of course I was. I had to be, right? Anxiety bristled the back of my neck.

  “Nice dress.” Came a voice from one of the people that filed in behind me. I turned toward the voice, which belonged to a stick of a woman who just had to be a model.

  “Uh, thanks. It's a...” I couldn't remember the name of the designer to save my life.

  “From the wrong century,” said the waifish man with the model. They both wore bright complicated clothing, like they had just stepped off a fashion runway.

  “Tell me, Darling, whose attic did you pull that out of?” The model added. Her tone was so flat that it barely sounded like sarcasm, but of course I knew it was.

  I eyed the woman, having no idea how to respond. I was a part time clerk at a college and I was in line with famous actors and musicians in a dress that cost more than my first car. I had no idea what I was doing. Who was I to even be here?

  “Name?” The man checking people in asked me. Suddenly I was at the front of the line.

  “Hi,” I turned back around, and smiled as much as I could despite the assholes behind me. “Claire. I'm here for Maynard.”

  Here for Maynard? What was I, a pizza? Was I always this nervous around new people?

  The man sized me up, then cracked a condescending grin. “I'm sure you are. Claire what?”

  Oh no. I'd never told Maynard my last name. I might be on the list, but as what? Claire the gymnast? I couldn't say that out loud! I would have to step out of line, this was so embarrassing. God, this was such a mistake!

  I shouldn't have come. I should be at home with takeout and Netflix.

  “She's with me.” The familiar dusky voice made my heart stop. It wasn't booming loud, but the line had suddenly gone so quiet that it felt like it was. Maynard's footsteps rang out on the cold marble floor as he approached the head of the line.

  It was clear that Maynard was the most important man in that building, and with one hand in the pocket of his suit pants, he walked with the confidence of a man who knew that fact. Dark cropped hair, perfectly chiseled features, he naturally exuded handsomeness. His three-piece tuxedo fit so perfectly that it looked like the style was made just for him.

  Every set of eyes in the massive foyer was on him, most of the women hadn't bothered to conceal their intentions. They all wanted to fuck him. Most of them already had. On the ride over I had more than enough time to research Maynard Cooper. If I didn't need access to his databases, his reputation alone would have warned me away.

  There were so many compromising photos and articles of Maynard out there. He was such a manwhore that there was a wing in the Playboy mansion named after him. I found three separate sex tapes of him floating around online, when I looked him up on the ride. In one of those videos he was even with a princess! I couldn't bring myself to watch more than a few seconds of any of them.

  I had no idea why I was his latest conquest, but now that I knew what kind of man he really was, there was no way I’d ever let him turn me into another notch mark on his bedpost.

  I got the whole bored billionaire part, but the one thing that confused me was why he'd want to see me again. He'd already won whatever twisted game he was playing. He got me to spread my legs for him,
really spread them.

  What else did he want from me?

  Was this really the same man from the night before? He wore a nice suit then too, but he was somehow more low key. He could've been any handsome, well-dressed man at the bar last night, but here he could only be the Maynard Cooper.

  Maynard stopped just before me. His eyes looked like storm clouds just after sunset, blue and dangerous. He looked me over with one of his apparently legendary half-smiles, that made everyone melt. I stayed strong, at least until he leaned into me.

  “You look good,” He whispered in my ear, his cheek ever so slightly touching mine. Electricity crackled between our skin as he breathed in my perfume. “You smell good too.” I could feel the muscles in his cheek, spread the smooth smile across his face. “And I know how good you taste.”

  Jesus, I swallowed a gulp of air. In front of everyone, my face immediately turned red. The strength of my resolve drained like bathwater.

  “Thank you for coming,” Maynard straightened and extended a hand for me to take. Did everything he said have a double meaning? Or was I just secretly hoping it did. Either way I couldn't reply, I just took his hand and let him pull me out of the line.

  “Jaste,” Maynard addressed the man checking people in, while holding the elevator door for me. “Remove that couple from the list.”

  “What!” The model that insulted me earlier immediately started protesting. “We flew in from France for this party!”

  “You heard the man.” Jaste said, with a shrug.

  I couldn't help but smile at the model couple through the closing elevator doors. They could wear their trendy clothes all the way back to their hotel.

  It was just him and I in the elevator and when it started to ascend, I shifted my weight wrong on my heels and stumbled. Strong arms closed around my sides before I could fall. Maynard was so fast!