Positively Pricked: A Billionaire Loathing-to-Love Romance

by Sabrina Stark

  But that wasn't the only thing bothering me. It was the visual reminder that Tiffany had slept in that same suite just one night earlier.

  This posed a rather disturbing question. In that same bedroom? Or in the other one? And what if it was in the same bedroom. Was it in the same bed, under the same sheets? If so, had they been changed?

  Zane had already assured me that nothing had happened between them. And foolish or not, I actually believed him. Was I being stupid?

  No.

  Or yes.

  Damn it. Either way, I was wilting under Tiffany's scornful gaze. She gave my appearance another quick once-over. "Yeah," she said. "I can tell."

  It took me a moment to recall the threads of our conversation. Obviously, she meant that she could tell that I hadn't brushed my hair or gone to any other trouble to make myself presentable.

  But in my own defense, I'd been betting on a quick anonymous escape.

  No such luck.

  With a mumbled excuse, I moved past her and rounded the corner, only to collide into who?

  Teddy, Zane's cousin.

  Just shoot me, now.

  As I stumbled backward from the unexpected impact, he stood, staring like he'd just caught me molesting the neighbor's cat. With a sound of disgust, he said, "I see you ignored my advice."

  I was almost too embarrassed to think. "Huh?"

  He gave me a smirk. "Or, maybe you were screwing him all along."

  What the hell?

  From somewhere behind me, I heard Tiffany say, "No. I don't think so."

  I turned to look. She was now standing within arm's reach, giving Teddy a knowing smile. "What I think," Tiffany told him, "is that she's wanted him all along, and he finally took pity on her."

  I wanted to slap her. Determined to resist, I shoved my hands deep into the front pockets of my shorts. After all, there was no need to get violent – yet.

  Tiffany said to Teddy, "Wanna know how they met?"

  "How?" Teddy asked.

  "She was like, a caterer's helper or something." She gave a little snicker. "You remember that party at Zane's place? Well, she was the one picking crab cakes off the carpet."

  I spoke up. "Yeah? And you were the one humping him in the alcove."

  Tiffany straightened. "So?"

  "So your fiancé was at the same party."

  "Ex-fiance," she corrected.

  "Oh, please," I said. "Not at the time, he wasn't."

  At this, she had the nerve to look insulted. "What are you saying? That I'm some sort of slut?"

  "Oh, get real." I threw up my hands in frustration. "I'm just saying, you're in no position to talk."

  In unison, Tiffany and Teddy turned to look at something near my right foot. I lowered my head to see what they were seeing, and felt my face burst into new flames of embarrassment.

  Yup, those were my panties all right. With as much dignity as I could muster, I swooped them up and crammed them back into my pocket.

  And then, what else could I do?

  I turned and marched toward the stairway, trying to ignore Tiffany's laughter ringing out behind me.

  Chapter 58

  On the phone, Charlotte was still laughing. "But why'd you take the stairs when you could've grabbed an elevator?"

  "Because," I explained, "I didn't want to risk seeing anyone else."

  I still didn't want to see anyone, but I did appreciate hearing her voice, even if she wasn't giving me quite the reaction I'd been hoping for.

  An hour earlier, after trudging down countless flights of stairs, I'd finally made it back to my own hotel room, where I'd taken a long shower and then called Charlotte for a dose of sympathy.

  The only problem was, she wasn't terribly sympathetic. In fact, she spent most of the conversation telling me that she'd known all along that Zane and I would hook up eventually.

  And how did she know this? It was because, in Charlotte's words, "You can't hate someone that much without loving them at least a little."

  When she repeated this for the third time, I said, "What are you saying? That I'm in love with Zane Bennington?"

  Heaven forbid.

  "You must love him," she said. "He's all you ever talk about."

  "Sure, because he's a monster."

  Her tone grew teasing. "You mean a monster in bed?"

  Well, he was big and powerful. And he'd made me scream. Did that count? I mumbled, "Yeah, well, that doesn't mean anything."

  "Says you. And if he was such a monster, you wouldn't have slept with him at all."

  Technically, this was true, but I wasn't ready to give in just yet. "You do remember that he fired me, right?"

  "Yeah, and he gave you a three-years' severance. It's practically a vacation."

  Well, there was that.

  "And," Charlotte continued, "he was paying you a crap-ton of money, anyway."

  "So?"

  "So when you take that into account, it's more like a ten-years' severance, at least in normal-person dollars."

  Damn it. She did have a point. Still, I wasn't blind to the fact that he was literally paying me to go away.

  I sighed. "I dunno."

  "Wanna know what I think?"

  "What?"

  "I think he loves you, too."

  I almost dropped the phone. "Oh, please. He doesn't love anyone."

  "But from what you said, he loved his grandfather. And his dad."

  "Yeah, so?"

  "And he loves his dogs."

  "Well, everyone loves dogs," I pointed out.

  "Not hardly," she said. "I'm just saying, I think you're reading it all wrong. I think he fired you so he could date you all legal-like."

  At this, I felt an embarrassing surge of hope, especially because Zane had implied something very similar. Still, the whole situation scared the crap out of me.

  I couldn't really be in love with Zane Bennington? Could I?

  If so, I was in huge trouble. After all, he'd disappeared without so much as a note.

  Charlotte and I were still talking ten minutes later when a knock sounded at the door to my hotel room.

  On the phone, Charlotte said in a sing-song voice, "I know who that is."

  "Who?"

  She laughed. "You know who."

  Obviously, she meant Zane. But I wasn't so sure. After all, we hadn't made any plans. Still, I called out, "Be there in a sec!"

  In a rush, Charlotte said, "Hey, real quick…Don't forget to call me before you fly home."

  Hearing this, it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea when I'd be flying home. Considering that I was now unemployed, it could even be today. Still, I promised to let her know and ended the call feeling a lot happier than when I'd begun.

  Probably, I should've relished it, because when I finally answered the door, it wasn't the guy I'd been hoping to see.

  Instead, it was Bob, Teddy's stepfather.

  And he looked like hell.

  Chapter 59

  From my hotel room doorway, I stared at the unexpected visitor. Until today, I'd seen Bob on only two occasions. The first time had been at Zane's party. The second time had been when I'd spotted him standing out on his front lawn, watching as the movers loaded up his stuff.

  Both times, he'd looked immaculate, with tailored clothes and a perfect haircut sporting just the right amount of gray at the temples.

  Back then, he'd looked like everybody's favorite rich uncle.

  Now, he looked like a hobo who'd been turned away at the soup kitchen.

  His face was unshaven, and his hair was a mess. He wore dark slacks and a gray dress shirt, but the slacks were rumpled, and the shirt had a dark, damp stain running down the front, like he'd been trying to take a drink and accidentally missed his mouth.

  I gave the stain a closer look. Coffee?

  Or something stronger?

  He said, "Got a minute?"

  Startled out of my stupor, I managed to say, "Uh, sure. Bob, right?"

  He blinked. "You know me?"<
br />
  I nodded. "We met at the party. You remember? At Zane's place?"

  "Oh. Sorry." He squinted at me for a long moment. "Yeah. You were wearing a red dress, right?"

  No. I'd been wearing work clothes and a frilly apron. Obviously, he had me mixed up with someone else, but I didn't have the heart to correct him, so I gave him a reassuring smile and said, "Something like that."

  He murmured, "Right, right... Looked great on you, by the way."

  "Uh, thanks."

  He glanced toward the inside of my hotel room. "Can we talk inside?"

  The question caught me off guard. I barely knew the guy. Plus, I had no idea why he was here.

  Still, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, in spite of the fact that he'd cost me my catering job. No wonder he didn't pay the bill. The way it looked, he could barely afford food for himself.

  I gave him an apologetic smile. "I’m really sorry, but I can't have guests in the room. Maybe we can talk out here? Or maybe get a coffee downstairs?"

  After all, he looked like he could use it.

  He frowned. "Out here's no good. He might see us."

  Who on Earth was he talking about? Zane? Teddy? Someone else? I had no idea.

  I said, "Sorry, who might see us?"

  From somewhere beyond my line of sight, I heard a different voice, lower and harder, say, "Me."

  Bob whirled to look and went suddenly pale. A split-second later, he managed a shaky smile. "Heeeey, Zane. How's it going?"

  Zane appeared outside my doorway, like he'd just come from somewhere down the corridor. He looked to Bob and replied, "Shitty. Now, get the fuck away from her."

  I couldn’t help but flinch. "Actually," I said, "it's fine."

  Without so much as a glance in my direction, Zane said, "No. It's not. And stay out of this."

  What the hell? "I can't stay out of it," I said. "This is my room."

  Zane's mouth tightened. "Not for long."

  I wasn't even sure what that meant. Before I could even think to ask, Zane returned his attention to Bob. "You heard me," Zane told him. "Now, find somewhere else to go."

  "Like where?" Bob's shoulders slumped. "I was kicked out of my suite."

  "Not your suite," Zane corrected. "My suite."

  I'd heard this sort of logic before. The last time, I'd found it funny and charming. Now, I was only appalled.

  In front of me, Bob was saying, "It was supposed to be mine."

  "But it's not," Zane said. "So fuck off."

  And there it was – Zane's favorite phrase.

  Bob lowered his voice to a pathetic whisper. "Then how about a loan? Or maybe an advance? You know, to tide me over?"

  Zane gave Bob a long, cold look. "No. But I can give you some advice."

  With obvious reluctance, Bob asked, "What?"

  "Get out before I drag you out."

  I gave Zane a worried glance. Normally, I would've assumed this was merely a figure of speech. But Zane did have that history.

  First the senator, now Bob?

  I spoke up. "You know what? I might have a little something."

  Both guys turned to look. Bob's expression grew hopeful. "Oh yeah?"

  As for Zane, he looked more irritated than ever. "I said to stay out of this."

  I glared up at him. "And I said it's fine. Remember?" I looked to Bob and said, "Hang on, okay?"

  With the door still open, I turned and dashed into my hotel room. I yanked my purse off the nightstand, dug out my wallet, and pulled out all of my cash.

  It wasn't a ton of money, but it would surely be enough for a decent hotel room and maybe even dinner.

  I hustled back to Bob and thrust out the bills in his direction. He gave the money a worried look, but made no move to take it.

  It was easy to see why. Next to him, Zane loomed large and hostile.

  Ignoring Zane, I thrust the bills closer to Bob. "Go on," I urged. "We'll just consider it a loan or something."

  Anything to preserve the guy's dignity.

  Finally, with a mumbled thanks, Bob took the money, turned, and trudged silently away. Watching him go, I felt a wave of sympathy wash over me. Everything about this felt so incredibly wrong.

  I turned angry eyes to Zane. And of course, the look in his eyes was all too familiar. It was the same look I usually saw right before he told someone to fuck off.

  Already, he'd said this to Bob. And the way it looked, he was getting ready to say it again.

  To me.

  Chapter 60

  From the open doorway, I stared at the guy who'd rocked my world only a few hours ago.

  If he wanted to cuss me out, fine. He could go right ahead. But he'd be hearing some choice words in return.

  I crossed my arms and waited.

  Zane looked down and gave a slow shake of his head. When he finally looked up, all he said was, "You didn't answer your phone."

  "What phone? The hotel phone?"

  "No. Your cell. I called you maybe thirty minutes ago."

  I had received a call while I'd been talking to Charlotte. But I hadn't recognized the number, so I'd let it go to voicemail.

  I asked, "Did you leave a message?"

  "No," he said. "I came in person."

  I gave him a look. "Yes. You sure did."

  "Meaning?"

  I made a sound of frustration. "The thing with Bob, are we just going to pretend that it didn't happen?"

  "If you're lucky, we are."

  Was that a joke? It didn't sound like a joke. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means, you were supposed to stay out of it."

  My arms dropped to my sides. "Why?"

  "Because it's not your problem. And I don't want it to be."

  This might've been a lovely idea, if only the so-called problem hadn't arrived on my proverbial doorstep. With a sigh of frustration, I looked away.

  Zane said, "If you've got something to say, go ahead."

  I looked back to him and said, "Well, I guess I am wondering how you can be so awful."

  His mouth tightened. "To you?"

  That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it?

  What was the price of my soul? Even if this was more than a fling, and even if he did end up treating me wonderfully, would I seriously be able to stand by while he abused everyone else? And if so, what kind of person would that make me?

  His question was more complicated than he realized. Was he awful to me? No. Especially not lately. But it was awful to see him kick someone when they were down. I murmured, "I don't know."

  His voice was flat. "You don’t know."

  Obviously, he didn't get it. Desperately, I tried to explain. "I just don't know what to think, you know, after the thing with Bob."

  "Forget him," Zane said. "He's gone."

  "Yeah, but to where? I mean, you kicked him out of his house."

  "No," Zane said in a tone of forced patience. "I kicked him out of my house. Big difference."

  "But you're not even living there." I searched his face. "Are you?"

  "You know where I live."

  Yes. I did. He lived in a giant mansion with so many rooms, he probably got lost at night. And where was Bob living? I didn't even want to speculate.

  "But seriously," I said, "aren't you worried? He looked so pathetic."

  "Yeah. He did. And you wanna know why?"

  "Why?"

  "So he could take advantage of someone too dumb to know better."

  I drew back. "Did you just call me dumb?"

  Zane's expression softened. "I wasn't talking about you."

  Sure he wasn't.

  I almost felt like crying. And it wasn't only because I felt bad for Bob. All of this was making me remember – belatedly, it seemed – how heartless Zane could be.

  I almost didn't know what to say.

  As the silence stretched out between us, I couldn’t help but recall my conversation with Charlotte. What if, heaven forbid, I did love this guy? What then?

&nb
sp; The answer was obvious. He'd break my heart and stomp on the pieces. It was only a matter of time.

  In front of me, Zane's expression grew stormier with every passing moment. Finally, he said, "Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong."

  Was I?

  In front of me, he looked anything but warm and welcoming. I snuck a worried glance over my shoulder. Behind me, all I saw was a temporary room, reserved for a job that I no longer had.

  This posed a troubling question. Why was I still here, anyway?

  From the look on Zane's face, he was wondering the same thing.

  I heard myself say, "I'm going home."

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Are you forgetting your roommate? And her boyfriend?"

  I wasn't forgetting anything. But as far as a reason to stay, it was sadly lacking. Besides, I'd have to go home sometime, right?

  I said, "It'll be fine."

  His jaw tightened. "Will it?"

  "Yes. Definitely." My throat felt tight as I went on to explain. "As far as Paisley, I've handled her fine so far. And, well, with the professor, he's probably already moved on."

  "Uh-huh." Zane looked far from convinced. "To who?"

  "I dunno. Someone else."

  "And if he hasn't?"

  "Then I'll deal with it."

  After a long moment, he said, "Jane, listen. If it's the house that's bothering you—"

  I held up a hand. "You know what? You don't need to explain. After all, like you said, it's none of my business."

  "You're right. It's not."

  I summoned up a stiff smile. "See? Problem solved."

  Ignoring my comment, Zane continued. "But I'd rather tell you than have you look at me like you're looking at me now."

  "It's not just the house," I said. "It's everything. And really, it doesn't even matter."

  "Oh yeah? Why not?"

  How to explain? I gave a hopeless shrug. "I guess, because we're so different."

  "Yeah. We are. But that doesn't have to be a problem."

  Maybe not for him. But it would be for me. After all, how many times could I watch him being awful to somebody before I ended up despising him?

  Maybe it was unfair. Maybe I was being stupid. But at that particular moment, all I wanted was some time to think.

  When I made no reply, Zane said, "Everything I do, I've got my reasons."