His Beautiful Revenge: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Michelle Love

  “Not guilty on all counts, your Honor.”

  Roman, the only one who wasn’t a witness, made a disgusted noise, earning him a look from the bailiff. He felt sick as the prosecution lawyer stood to start his questioning. He wished desperately that Bay wouldn’t have to go through this, and when she was called first, his heart went out to her as she moved down the aisle slowly.

  As she sat in the witness box, Roman watched as Bay glanced at Stu, then quickly away, her face pale. As the prosecuting lawyer, Jed Lyman, asked her to describe the night she was shot, Roman was impressed with how calmly she was reliving the event. As the lawyer gently probed her about the actual shooting, her voice wavered.

  “So, after Miss Clayton had left your home, you attempted to escape from Mr. Lawson’s grip?”

  “Yes. He released his grip enough that I could defend myself. I rammed my knee into his groin, but he threw me to the ground, cursing at me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He called me a ‘fucking bitch’ and aimed the gun at me. He told me he had been waiting a long time to kill me and that I would make a ‘beautiful corpse.’”

  Roman heard a woman on the jury gasp. He looked over at the twelve people and saw that they all looked appalled.

  “What happened then, Miss Tambe …Bay?”

  “He shot me once, in the abdomen. Then he knelt and pressed the muzzle to my belly and fired twice more. He was going to shoot me again, but the gun jammed. I saw him leave just as I lost consciousness. When I woke a few minutes later, the pain was overwhelming and the smell of blood and gun smoke made me feel sick. I tried to pull myself across my floor to reach my cell phone …but he had smashed it. I passed out again and woke up in hospital.”

  Someone at the back of the room retched. Bay was green now, obviously back there in that room with her would-be killer. Stu hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she had walked into the room, his gaze full of hatred mixed with desire. Sick fuck. It made anger flood through Roman and he wished he had killed Stu back in that motel. There were not enough words to describe this son-of-a-bitch.

  The lawyer was good; after Bay’s description of her shooting, he had waited for a beat, letting the horror sink in.

  “Miss Tambe …the day you were shot …it was to be your wedding day. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were shot whilst wearing what was to be your wedding dress, correct?”

  Bay swallowed. “Yes.”

  Roman looked back at the jury. A few of them were openly crying now.

  The lawyer patted her hand kindly. “Bay …was this the first time Stuart Lawson tried to kill you?”

  “No.”

  Roman sat up then. What the hell? He listened in increasing horror as Bay described the night she had fired him at their recording studio, after he had beaten Kym almost to death. How she’d goaded him, making sure the studio’s cameras caught everything. The lawyer turned to the judge. “Your honor, we would like to submit that video into evidence at this time.”

  “Objection. We have no knowledge of this video.”

  Jed Lyman smiled. “Your honor, this video goes to show the antagonism between the defendant and Miss Tambe, and the violent nature of his interactions with her. I would also like to point out the disparity in height and build between Miss Tambe and the defendant.”

  “Objection!”

  The judge, an elegant woman in her seventies, glared at the defense lawyer. “Overruled. Miss Tambe, will you be okay if we replay the video of the first attack? If not, you may be excused for a few minutes.”

  Bay nodded. “I’ll be fine, your honor.”

  “Okay, well, My Lyman, let’s see it.”

  Kym sat in the small room, half expecting Tom or Pete or someone to burst in and scream at her. She wouldn’t blame them. Shit. Why hadn’t she had the courage to face up to Bay?

  She started as someone knocked. A court clerk poked her head. “Miss Clayton, you have visitors.”

  Kym frowned. “Huh?” Then her stomach dropped as her mother and father pushed their way into the room.

  “Darling!” Her mother fell on her, sobbing. The clerk looked impressed and Kym sighed, mechanically patting her mother on the back. Impressed was always the initial reaction to her famous parents. Just as well you don’t really know them, she thought. The clerk reluctantly left them alone.

  Her mother, Charlie, finally finished performing and Kym sat back down, waiting for the onslaught.

  “Darling …they didn’t even tell us at first that you’d been kidnapped.”

  Her father, Mac, looked stony-faced. “I tell ya, some folks are gonna get fired over this.”

  Kym sighed. “They didn’t tell anyone because they thought if they let it be known I was missing and that Stu was keeping me hostage, he would kill me to save himself.”

  Even her dad flinched at her words. Charlie stroked her daughter’s blonde hair. “Sweetie …but afterward, you didn’t think to call us?”

  “Who did call you?”

  “No one called us,” her father said gruffly. “We saw it on the internet.”

  Jesus. “What about Bay? Did you know she’d been shot? Didn’t you think it strange I wasn’t calling you, upset?”

  Charlie and Mac shared a guilty look. Of course not—their world only contained the both of them and no one else mattered. Same old, same old. Kym got up.

  “Look, Mom, Dad, I think you should go. This is nerve wracking enough.”

  “But sweetheart, we should be here to support you.”

  Kym looked at her mom, professionally made up and in tight leather and her dad, tour t-shirt stretched over his still athletic physique. His current tour.

  God.

  Roman Ford chose that moment to walk into the room. Kym introduced them, and instantly, a light went on in her mother’s brain. She switched into flirting mode. Kym got a little satisfaction at the lack of response from Roman, but seeing as he was a robot …

  “Kym, they’re calling you next. Bay has testified already.”

  How is she? Is she okay? But Kym kept her mouth shut and ducked out of her mother’s reach. “I’m ready.”

  “We love you, darling.”

  “God,” she said as Roman took her elbow. “Parents …do you have trouble with yours?”

  Roman stopped and looked at her. His eyes were dark, his face a mask of pain just long enough that she knew she’d hit a nerve.

  “Roman …”

  Roman opened the door to the courtroom and practically shoved her in. “Your turn,” he said roughly. “Don’t fuck it up.”

  “Just drive. I don’t care where. Just, please …I need to feel the wind in my hair.”

  Tom put the Mercedes into gear and took her hand. “You got it, beautiful.”

  Bay sat back in the seat and let out a long breath. It was over. She never had to see Stuart Lawson again or relive that night. Over. Gone.

  The car slid smoothly down the interstate, the wind streaming through Bay’s long, dark hair, whipping it around her face. She looked over at Tom. Even he looked relieved now. The rest was up to those twelve people on the jury and Lyman had reassured her, “Lawson will never be released, Bay. He’ll die in jail.”

  God, those words made her want to scream with joy. Now, she could really start to look forward to her new life, with Tom, and with Pete and their band …

  There it was. The cloud in her soul. The dark place she couldn’t reconcile. Kym. No, don’t think about her. She made the decision to leave.

  Instead, she touched the back of her hand to the cheek of the man she loved and smiled at him. “Baby?”

  He caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “Yes?”

  “You know any secluded beaches near here?”

  Tom grinned. “I don’t know about beaches, but I do know of a private lake with a little jetty. Somewhere we could …be alone, unobserved.”

  “Then let’s go there.”

  Kym waited until
the court had emptied before leaving. She’d been unfortunate enough to witness the press frenzy when her mom and dad had left and she’d seen how much they loved being the center of attention. She could only imagine how they would if it had been her who had been shot. Assholes.

  Roman was waiting with her, tapping his finger on the table idly. She looked at him in irritation.

  “Do you want to stop that?”

  Roman didn’t glance her way. “Nope.”

  Kym shifted in her chair. “Look, I did it. I testified, okay? You got what you wanted.”

  The finger stopped tapping. “You think this is what I wanted? For any of this to happen?”

  Kym sighed and stood. “I’m going, so you’ll never have to put up with—“

  “What’s next, Kym? For you, I mean. The band …you owe them a real goodbye if that what you plan. You’re still under contract to Quartet.”

  Kym hesitated, then took her seat again. “Roman …are you saying that if I leave, I’m in breach of contract?”

  “Technically, yes.”

  Kym rubbed her eyes, smudging her make-up. “What now, Roman? Are you trying to force me to go see Bay and Pete or you’ll sue? So all that crap about me being free after I testify …”

  Roman leaned forward. “Kym, I’m not totally insensitive. I know it’s difficult. No, of course, we’re not going to sue if you want to leave the band. The band can go on without you. I just think you all be happier together if at least you talk and settle things.”

  Kym sighed. “Fine.”

  Roman looked startled. “Fine?”

  “I’ll meet with them. Just …give me a couple of days to psyche myself up for it.”

  Roman smiled. “I’ll set it up for early next week. Kym …whatever’s happened, I know this is the right decision for you.”

  Tom slid his hands under Bay’s shirt and slipped it from her shoulders. The evening was cool, but neither of them minded. The lake was, as promised, quiet and private. They had walked hand in hand along the little wooden jetty. At the end, a weak lamp swung from a pole, and over the water, a light fog rolled in.

  His lips pressed firmly against hers. He felt her small hands at his shirt, unbuttoning it, and letting it drop to the wooden jetty. With an expert flick, he unclasped her bra, letting her heavy, full breasts fall into his waiting hands. He dipped his head to take first one, then the other nipple into his mouth, tasting her and savoring her salty skin. His tongue ran over the tiny bud and the small bumps that rose as her nipple hardened. Bay swayed slightly, murmuring his name. Her skirt hit the deck next, then his pants and underwear. Then, naked, skin to skin, Tom lowered her to the jetty, kissing her lips, her throat, and down to her belly, tracing the circle of her navel with his tongue. He lifted her legs over his shoulders and buried his face in her sex, biting down gently on her clit before lashing his tongue around it. Her sex swelled and blossomed for him as he ran his tongue along the soft peach of her outer labia. Then he plunged deep inside of her.

  Bay’s body tensed, her fingers tangled in her hair, and she shuddered through an orgasm as Tom set every nerve ending in her body on fire. God, she wanted him. She wanted to feel his cock driving hard into her, but first …

  She pushed him on his back and crawled down his body, grazing his nipples with her teeth and feeling his stomach muscles contract under her fingertips. Grinning up at him, she wrapped her hand around the root of him and took him in her mouth, gliding her lips over the quivering, wide crest of his cock, sucking gently as her tongue teased the sensitive tip.

  “Jesus, Bay …”

  She could taste salt and pre-cum on her tongue and increased the suction and the pull of her lips until he was shuddering and jerking beneath her, groaning her name. He made to pull out, but she held him in her mouth until he couldn’t hold back and hot semen shot onto her tongue.

  “I want to be inside you …now …” he growled, and in a flash, he had her on her back, her legs back over his shoulders and his cock, so hard and so thick, was pushing into her. Bay shivered with pleasure as Tom began to find his rhythm and rammed himself as deep into her as he could.

  “God, I love fucking you, Bay Tambe …”

  She laughed, gasping as his pace increased, her body moving with his, and their lips meeting hungrily, her fingers tangled in his hair. The cool evening air swirled around their hot bodies. Bay couldn’t stop gazing at Tom’s face. Was there really a time she hadn’t known him? It seemed impossible.

  Afterward, they dressed slowly and walked hand-in-hand back to the car. It was almost night now. As he drove back into the city, Tom looked over at Bay, her hair streaming behind her in the night air, and wondered how they had gotten through the last months. He had nearly lost her and that fear still lived inside him even though she had survived the impossible. A tiny part of him wanted to shut her away somewhere where no one would ever hurt her again, but he assumed it was the same for anyone who loved someone as much as he loved Bay.

  She smiled at him. “That was a perfect way to spend an evening. Thank you.”

  “After the verdict, we’re going away and I’ll make sure every evening is even more perfect.”

  Bay grinned. “Right back atcha. Tom?”

  “Yes, babe?”

  “I want to go back to work.”

  Tom was confused. “I don’t follow.” For the last few months, Bay had been in the studio, making a name for herself songwriting while she recovered.

  “I mean the band. I want us to start up again, make plans, and give it a real shot. Pete’s going crazy working at Hank’s bar. It’s time.”

  Tom nodded. “I think it’s a great idea. Bay …what about Kym?”

  She looked away from him, but not before he saw the glint of tears in her eyes. “If Kym wants out, that’s her right. We’ll just have to find a replacement.”

  Tom took her hand. “I think that’s a healthy way to look at it. I’ll talk to Roman in the morning.”

  “Well,” Roman said the next morning. “Hold your horses. Kym’s agreed to meet them.”

  Tom’s eyebrows shot up. “How did you manage to finagle that?”

  Roman gave a slight smile. “Passive aggression and emotional blackmail. Mentions of contract breach.”

  Tom shook his head, smiling. “I’m not sure that was called for, Rome.”

  Roman flicked a pen away from him. “It was. She needs to get a grip and face up to her responsibilities. I’m done with babysitting. She wasn’t the one who was shot.”

  He regretted his words, seeing how Tom flinched. “Sorry.”

  Tom held up his hand. ”It’s okay. Jeez, though, you really don’t like her, do you? Sure you wouldn’t be happier without her?”

  “Not about me. If Bay and Pete want her back, I’ll try and make that happen for them. I don’t have to like it—or Kym.”

  Tom leaned back, rolling his shoulders. “We need to get Emily and Dash at that meeting too. The quicker we can get a marketing strategy in place, the better.”

  “Agreed. Look, let’s get some dates for the meeting set up.”

  Kym drove to Tomas Meir’s houseboat on Lake Washington and parked across the street. She had no idea whether Bay or Tom would be there during the day, but she at least wanted to test herself to see if she was ready. Tomorrow she would go to Hank’s bar for an informal meeting with Bay, Pete, and the Quartet contingent. Her mind had run through all the possible scenarios; she and Bay falling into each other’s arms; Bay and Pete firing her; Roman being disappointed in her. She had dwelt on that last one far too long. Why the hell should she care what Roman Ford thought? Jackass.

  Taking a deep breath, Kym got out of the car and slowly walked across the street. She stood where Stu’s car had been that night, remembering how she’d screamed when she had heard the gunshots and how she’d tried to run. She wondered what the hell had happened to that neighbor who had heard her screams. She could feel her body start to tremble as she walked to the gate at the front of the housebo
at. Locked. Of course. She leaned her head against the cold metal bars. There was a call button, but …suddenly she felt sick, and whirling around, started to dry heave into a bush.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  She looked up, her hand over her mouth. A thick-set guy in t-shirt and shorts was looking at her from the sidewalk. She tried to smile.

  “I’m fine.”

  The guy, who she judged was in his late twenties, nodded, still unconvinced. “Hey, you look familiar. Do I know you?”

  Kym gripped the cold steel bar—the gate that had been put into to protect her friend, her sister, her Bay, after she, Kym, had brought the worst day of her life to her. She closed her eyes for a second before replying.

  “No, I don’t think so. I don’t think so at all. I’m nobody. I’m no one.”

  Emily Moore grinned at her boyfriend, Dash Hamilton. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

  Dash looked startled. “Huh? I thought we started dating in August.”

  She laughed. “We did …but it’s the one year anniversary of our getting back together.”

  “Jeez, already?” But he leaned over to kiss her. “Then happy anniversary, baby. Thank you for making me the happiest man alive.”

  Emily kissed him, enjoying the feeling of his cool lips on hers. They had been through so much in the time they’d known each other and Dash was no longer the impetuous, wild boy he had been when they met. Now he was a man, his goofball tendencies reserved for when they were alone.

  “Maybe,” he said now, “we should discuss whether we want to move in together.”

  Emily smiled. This was what she was talking about. Before, Dash would have bought a house, hired decorators, and told her they were moving in together without once consulting her, just assuming she would enjoy the surprise. One habit she was glad to have broken him of. He’d changed her too, though. She was more laid back and things that used to irritate her no longer did. She enjoyed fooling around with him on their off days and working together on their professional assignments.

  Today they would begin again to work on making The 9th & Pine a success. It seemed fitting to Emily that today, of all days, they would start a new chapter. At nine a.m. that morning, Tom had sent her a text message. Jury’s been sent out. We’ll know soon about Lawson.