The Billionaire’s Pet (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance)

by Ivy Layne

  "That's a mistake," a deep voice said. Aidan had been so quiet that I'd almost forgotten he was there. He stood off to the side of the kitchen, leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest, drinking a beer and observing his family in silence. I'd felt his eyes on me, steady and curious, more than once, but he hadn't spoken until now. He went on, "Magnolia Henry is a catch. She's wasted on Vance, professionally speaking. But he'd be a moron if he didn't take advantage now that she's available."

  "None of your business, Aidan," Vance said between gritted teeth. Aidan flashed him a surprisingly lighthearted grin and shot back, "Vance, you should know better. Everything is my business."

  His eyes settled on me as he said the last, neither accusing nor approving. So, the jury was still out on me. That was fine. I understood. Despite Jacob's words of comfort in his bedroom, I knew I didn't belong there. Maybe once, I would have. Before my life went to hell. Before my father died and I'd made so many foolish decisions. But not now, not as John Jordan's widow.

  Jacob could reassure me that they didn't care about gossip, but that wasn't the world we'd been raised in. Society was built on gossip, innuendo, and reputation. As ugly as his words had been, William was right. I was tainted. And Jacob was a Winters. Whatever we had between us, it couldn't last.

  Dinner was finally ready, and we sat at the long dining room table, everyone passing plates and serving themselves, talking over one another and laughing while Aidan watched us all in silence. I watched him back, too tired by then to jump into the lively conversation. His face bore the Winters stamp, but there was something austere about his features. He watched his family like a guard dog, ready to jump at any threat. I wondered what would happen when he decided I was a threat.

  I'd deal with it later. By the time Jacob brought out a container of cookies I'd made before I got sick, my eyes were drooping. I didn't resist when Jacob plucked me out of my chair and settled me in his lap, tucking my head under his chin. I heard him say, "This is the first time she's been up and around in days. She had the flu so badly, I almost took her to the ER."

  I struggled to open my eyes, but the combination of so many hours out of bed and a stomach full of pasta was too much. Time passed before I was aware of Jacob carrying me to bed, stripping me of my dress, and removing the pins from my hair with a gentle efficiency. He had my hair in a loose braid and another of his T-shirts over my head before I knew it and was pushing me down to the pillow, tucking me in moments before sleep pulled me under.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ABIGAIL

  * * *

  I woke alone the next morning, a note on the pillow beside me in Jacob's handwriting that read, At the office, home early. REST.

  I could do that. The evening before, meeting Jacob's family had been fun and educational—except for William Davis's brief presence—but it had wiped me out. I wasn't sick any longer, just exhausted and weak. I lay in Jacob's big bed and tried to catch up with the events of the past week.

  Everything had changed between Jacob and myself, and I didn't understand how or why. For a man who didn't do relationships, Jacob was treating me an awful lot like a girlfriend. Maybe he couldn't help himself. As autocratic and commanding as he could be, as used to getting his way as he was, at his core, Jacob was a good man.

  He'd helped me when he didn't have to, and this whole arrangement could have gone completely differently. With any other man, it would have. I suspected that while Jacob had initially liked the idea of my being no more than a pet, over the long term, he couldn't sustain that kind of distance, especially with me living in his house.

  Just because he was starting to treat me like his girlfriend didn't make it true. I needed to remember that. We still had an arrangement. We were not equals. I remembered the conversation the night before about Vance's assistant, Magnolia, and her former fiancé.

  Things like that happened to women all the time. I'm sure at some point, he'd asked her formally to be his wife, or maybe just said 'we should get married', and then started acting like they were a permanent couple. She had probably responded to that vague promise and fallen into the role of future wife because he put her there, but Tate was right. No ring and no date made the assumption of engagement pretty weak.

  Jacob could treat me like his girlfriend. He might be sweet and he might have moved me into his room, but I'd be an idiot if I read too much into that. He'd never said our deal had changed. No matter what small things were different, as long as the arrangement hadn't been withdrawn or altered, I had to remember it stood between us.

  If I hadn't had my mother to worry about, I would've ended it myself. I wasn't made for this. I couldn't keep my heart safe. Every day that passed, I longed for Jacob. I wanted more from him. If I had to keep reminding myself about the way things stood between us, I was already in too deep. But I did have my mother to worry about, or I never would have approached Jacob in the first place. I couldn't reconcile my feelings. A part of me bitterly regretted the position I'd put myself in, and another part was gleefully thrilled I'd finally had an excuse to get naked with Jacob Winters.

  I needed to focus. I had no control over my relationship with Jacob. I could try to protect my heart, but that was pretty much a lost cause. I couldn't walk away while my mother needed me. Jacob's talk about my going back to college was enticing, but it wasn't today's reality. In my future, I might have options. In my present day, I had no money and my mother to support.

  I missed her. I missed her so much. There was a hollow ache in my chest every time I thought of her. The mother I remembered, the woman who'd raised me and loved me, was already gone. Even a year ago, I still got brief glimpses of her, though they'd been getting fewer and further between no matter how often I visited. By the time John died, I was there every day, and she only remembered me a few times a month. Worse, her mobility had declined, and she'd been having trouble communicating. I hadn't needed her doctor to tell me she was progressing to the final stages of her condition.

  We'd been apart for weeks. I'd seen her a few days before I'd fled Big John's house. Since then, it hadn't been safe. Now that Big John knew where I was, I wanted to go and see my mother. I knew it wouldn't be without danger. We'd already determined he had people watching Shaded Glenn. But surely, the Sinclairs could figure something out.

  I wasn't worried about any risk to myself. I'd been worried about leading Big John to Jacob, but that was already done, and I couldn't stand going one more day without seeing my mother. I'd been dreaming of her. Memories from when I was younger, before she got sick. Nightmares that she slipped away before I could see her again. I couldn't stand the thought of losing her at all, but the idea that she might die without me there, before I could hold her hand one more time, was too much.

  I got out of bed and took a quick shower. The kitchen was clean, only the container of leftover pasta in the refrigerator a clue that we'd had Jacob's family over the night before. I was still tired, so I followed Jacob's orders, making tea and toast and taking them to the couch, where I settled in to watch more home improvement shows and maybe take a nap.

  True to his word, Jacob came home early, letting himself in the penthouse in time for a late lunch. The sound of the door closing woke me and I sat bolt upright, my heart pounding before I realized no one but Jacob or his family could have let themselves in. I moved to get up to make him lunch, but he said, "Stay there."

  I obeyed, mostly because I didn't want to piss him off before I started making demands.

  "Are you hungry?" he called from the kitchen. I realized I was and called back, "A little." My stomach still wasn't used to solid food, but I wanted something more than toast. At least my throat felt better. It was still the slightest bit tender, but not really sore. Jacob returned a few minutes later with two bowls of pasta. Before I could stand, he waved me back and said, "Stay there. We'll eat on the couch."

  Again, I didn't argue. At the first bite, my stomach roared to life, and I realized I wasn't just a little hungr
y. I was starving. I forgot about talking to Jacob and focused on inhaling my lunch. Swallowing the last bite, I looked up to find Jacob watching me, a sexy quirk to his lips. Not quite a grin, but almost. I wiped the sauce from my mouth and said, "What?"

  He shook his head, the quirk blooming into a smile, and said, "Nothing. It's just nice to see you eating again. You had me worried for a while."

  I didn't respond to that. Sweet Jacob still set me off balance, especially now that I was better. Instead, I said, "We need to talk."

  Jacob's eyes narrowed on me in suspicion and, I thought, maybe worry. "What do we need to talk about?"

  Taking a deep breath for courage, I said, "I want to see my mother. I know it's dangerous, but it's been weeks. I've never gone this long without seeing her. Not since she got sick, and I can't—"

  Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over, dripping down my cheeks. I reached for the mask of dignity I used to protect myself when I felt threatened, but I couldn't find it. I was raw and open in front of Jacob, without defenses, and I hated it, hated being so dependent on anyone, hated the fear for my mother.

  Suspicion washed away under what looked like relief before his eyes went wide with alarm. There was a note of panic in his voice when he said, "Sweetheart, don't cry. Don't cry. We'll figure something out."

  I put my hands over my face, blocking my view of him, but more importantly, hiding my tears. He reached for me, and I tried to lean away, but he ignored me, pulling me into his arms and stroking my back. I was tired of feeling like a mess. My breath hitched in my chest as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, trying to get myself together. Sitting back, I said, "I don't know how much time she has left, Jacob. I don't want to be reckless, but I need to see her before it's too late."

  Jacob nodded. "I came home early to check on you, but also because I have a meeting with Cooper and Evers, and I wanted to see if you'd like to come with me."

  "Yes, please. Can we ask them about visiting my mother?"

  "I'll make a deal with you," Jacob said. "We'll ask. If they think they can get you in with an acceptable degree of safety, we'll do it. But Cooper is a risk taker. If he says no, he's got a damn good reason, and we're going to listen to him, okay?"

  "Okay," I agreed. I wasn't completely irrational, even if I was feeling emotional. I wanted to see my mother. I needed to see my mother. I also knew she would be furious if I got myself killed in the process. At least, she would have been when she still remembered who I was. But, of all the things I'd done in the last few years of which I knew she would not approve, getting myself killed would be at the top of the list.

  I had just enough time to change and put on some makeup before the Sinclair security vehicle would arrive in the garage to transport us to their offices. I pinned up my hair and put on a little more makeup than I'd been using lately in celebration of my first foray outside the penthouse since I'd arrived weeks before.

  I debated over what to wear, then settled for the most businesslike outfit I had, a pale pink Chanel suit, more suited to a ladies’ lunch than an office, but still more appropriate for a meeting than a sundress or one of my yoga pants & hoodie outfits.

  The suit, composed of an A-line dress with a somewhat short skirt and fitted jacket, flattered my curvy figure without showing too much leg or cleavage. I liked my body, most of the time. When I wasn't at a social event surrounded by bony women in tiny black dresses, I loved my body. I was fuller figured then most of the women I knew, but I had a nice curve to my waist and my full breasts were fairly perky for their size.

  I looked like a 1940s pinup, and the flare in the suit skirt emphasized the comparison. I couldn't resist the cream leather spike heels on the floor of my closet. I didn't know where they'd come from. I hadn't ordered them. I recognized the designer, and I knew the shoes cost hundreds of dollars.

  My wardrobe at Jacob's had started with the few items Rachel had purchased for me and been augmented by my own online shopping, but a few pieces here and there, mostly lingerie and shoes, had shown up out of nowhere. It was hard to imagine Jacob shopping, but I couldn't see him asking Rachel to buy me lingerie. Shoes, maybe.

  I sincerely hoped she had not purchased some of the lingerie. I'd never be able to look her in the eye again if she'd been the one to select any of the wispy, lacy collection of La Perla in the drawer. I wasn't even going to consider the thought of Rachel choosing the black satin bustier with silver buckles and matching thong from Agent Provocateur.

  I left the bedroom on time and met Jacob at the door, gratified to see his eyes go dark as he scanned me from head to toe. "Maybe I can move our appointment," he murmured against my lips as he pulled me in for a kiss. "It's been days."

  "Poor baby," I teased. My body had been half-dead while I was sick, sex the last thing on my mind. At the touch of Jacob's lips to mine and the heat of his fingers pulling up the hem of my skirt to skim over my hip, every nerve in my body roared back to life. Without meaning to, I shifted my stance, spreading my legs just a little, making room for his hand as it slid around my hip to skim the thin lace of my panties.

  Abruptly, Jacob dropped his hand and stepped back, leaving me cold, my knees shaky. Before I could speak, he opened the door and said, "Let's go."

  I stood beside him in the elevator, painfully aware of the emptiness between us, my nipples hard, my breasts full and ready for his touch, wishing his hand were back between my legs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ABIGAIL

  * * *

  "Jacob," I started to say. He shook his head, silencing me.

  "Taking you out of the building is dangerous," he said. "We have to pay attention. As much as I want to peel that suit off you and play, now's not the time."

  I nodded, my cheeks flashing red. He was right, and I was an idiot. The second he got his hands on me, my brain leaked right out my ears. The elevator arrived at the garage level, but the doors stayed shut. Jacob pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. I glanced over but couldn't see anything. A few seconds later, a green box popped up. Jacob slid his phone in his pocket before I could read what it said, but it must've been what he was waiting for because he hit the button to open the doors and we entered the garage level to see a huge black SUV pulled up directly in front of us.

  A man with sandy blonde hair and clear green eyes jumped out, nodded to us, and opened the rear passenger door. Jacob nodded back, said, "Griffen," and helped me in. I slid across the smooth bench seat, glad I'd worn a full skirt. If the fit had been any tighter, he would have had to pick me up to get me in the tall SUV.

  Minutes later, we were pulling into an underground parking garage. Griffen jumped out as soon as we were parked and opened Jacob's door, waiting for us to get out before taking the rear of our little procession. As we got in the elevator, he said, "You look exactly like your mother."

  I looked at him in surprise, then remembered Jacob said he had someone visiting my mother. This must be the guy. I smiled at him and said, "Thank you. How is she?"

  His eyes flicked away from mine and settled on Jacob for a second before returning to me. "Her condition hasn't changed much in the last few weeks," he said finally. His voice had a hint of an accent. Almost Southern, maybe Texas.

  My head dropped, and I studied my feet. I knew what he wanted me to read into that. She wasn't doing well. Not a surprise, but I must have had the faint hope that he would grin and say she was a fantastic card player and he loved hanging out with her, or something equally absurd. Anything but the truth—that she was in the final stages of Alzheimer's and was dying.

  I was lost in thought as I followed Jacob from the elevator to Cooper's office, my hand tucked securely in Jacob's. I got the impression of spare modernity—lots of chrome and gray and black—the opposite of Jacob's offices. Jacob dropped a quick knock on a door and opened it, leading us inside. Griffen followed and closed the door behind us.

  I didn't know the Sinclairs very well. Socially, we'd intersected on occasion, but th
eir business had never crossed over to either my family or the Jordans. Sinclair Security had a reputation for getting the job done, and while I knew they worked with both the police and federal law enforcement, they were also known to take clients of a less legitimate variety. However, they didn't work for criminals, which meant they'd never worked with Big John. For all of that, we'd been introduced more than a few times, and I recognized both Cooper and Evers Sinclair on sight. Like the Winters men, the Sinclair brothers all looked alike. Evers and Cooper shared the same icy blue eyes, but Evers wore his dark hair military short, while Cooper's was longer and casually messy. I extended my hand to Cooper. "Cooper, thank you for including me in the meeting." His fingers tightened around mine as he smiled.

  "Of course. We've been trying to spare you the details, but at this point, I think it makes more sense for you to chip in any ideas."

  Evers took my hand in his and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Abigail, how are you holding up? Do you need anything?"

  "Abigail has everything she needs, Evers, but thanks," Jacob said. He slid his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side, glaring at Evers. If I hadn't known better, I never would've guessed the two of them were lifelong friends. I looked between them, Jacob furious and Evers annoyed and also possibly amused. I was deciding how to handle them when Griffen said, "Abigail, I have some pictures of your mother, if you'd like to see them. It's nothing exciting. There really haven't been any changes, but I thought you might want them anyway."

  I did. I didn't care if there hadn't been any change to my mother's condition. I was desperate to see her, even in a picture. I stepped away from Jacob, pulling free of his arm and leaving him to deal with Evers on his own. Griffen pointed me to a chair opposite Cooper's desk, and I sat, gratefully accepting the file folder of photographs.