Perfectly Bad: a bad boy romance

by May Ball, Alice

  “Three parcels of property stand in between the existing data line and the government land.”

  The heavy cream pages made an excellent and expensive swish as he turned them. Turning the page gave him a chance to sweep the guests with a glance. Show them that the evening was all about them.

  At the same time, he could judge how engaged they were. How closely they were paying attention.

  “With new, high-tech switches, the new cable route will cut more than thirty milliseconds off the one-way access time, and that’s by a conservative estimate. For high-frequency traders, the value of the faster speed of this line is immense.”

  He watched carefully, checking that all of his audience were following and taking it in. “On the shortest route between the government land and the existing data pipe there are, as I mentioned, just three parcels of land.”

  This was the point. Here, he had to be sure. He needed every one of the potential investors to understand the how huge the value of the proposition was. He looked around the seated audience. They all leaned forward on their chairs and their eyes all gleamed.

  “We have the rights—not promises, not undertakings—the actual rights,” he waited, “to all three properties.”

  They applauded. Three men stood. He didn’t expect that. Well, whether they had completely understood it or not, Pierce Agostini had made enough deals to know buyers when he saw them. Every one of his hand-picked invitees was ready.

  He turned the next page. When he lifted his hand, the room fell silent as he said, “Back here in this room at one a.m., we will hold an auction for shares in the company that will own those rights.” They began to applaud again and he had to shout, “And you’re all invited to bid.” Everyone rose to their feet.

  They all came toward the stage with glows of wonder on their faces. Well, he told himself, you did just offer to make them a lot of money. He stepped off the dais to greet and be greeted.

  Miflin was at the front of the surge. Everyone wanted to shake Pierce’s hand, pump his arm, and, he guessed, curry favor. They all wanted in. It looked like a perfect result.

  Having Princess at his side while he made the address had felt good. Her presence gave him a new and unfamiliar kind of strength. And he was really starting to like looking at her, seeing her nearby. Every time he looked, there was more to this girl.

  And every time he looked at her, he liked what he saw some more. It was a shame she was so infuriating to be around when she was so good to look at.

  Princess watched as the doors opened to allow the players back to their gaming tables. Already at the door, her father was waiting.

  Princess made it look as unhurried as she could, making her way over to him. She tried to block his path. “Daddy, this could go on and end up really badly. Please, please stop.”

  “I will, Princess. Of course I will. I’d do anything for you, Princess.” He moved to step around her. “Just let me win back what I lost here.”

  “Daddy, no.”

  “Oh but, well, you know, it was quite a lot, Princess.

  “Daddy, please. Please. Just stop.”

  He gave her a smile that made her heart sink. “Sure, Princess. I’m just going to turn it around and then I’ll stop. I promise.

  Before she could stop him, over her father’s shoulder Princess saw a blond head with a pair of watery gray eyes. His smile sent a chill dripping down her spine. Yvgeny wore a white tux with a black shirt and pants and a thin black bowtie.

  His head dipped in what looked like a formal greeting. Arthur Cane stepped out of the room toward him and the two men slipped into a booth together.

  Princess’ heart banged in her chest as she followed them. Her feet felt heavy like they didn’t want to go. Yvgeny and Cane were seated in the corner as she stepped in.

  “Welcome to Hotsteppa’s, Yvgeny. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure to offer you hospitality before.” She smiled and looked from him to Cane. “Can I get you something, gentlemen? Some bar snacks perhaps, or have you tried the signature Fasttracker Hotsteppa cocktail, created exclusively for this evening?”

  “We’re fine, Miss Grace. Thank you,” Yvgeny said. Cane didn’t seem so sure.

  “For you, Mr. Cane?” She smiled some more. Her face muscles felt tight and tired.

  “I said we’re fine,” Yvgeny told her.

  “Well, do let me or one of the staff know if there’s anything that you would like. And I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

  “Goodbye, Miss Grace,” Yvgeny said. “For now.”

  Princess left the two men. As quickly as she could, she found Agostini and told him.

  His face darkened. They moved into a dark passageway and he took out his phone, punched a few buttons, then held it to his ear. “Callaghan,” he rasped, “how did Yvgeny get in?” He paused. “Never mind finding out. Get someone to cover the door, bring Calhoun, and get Yvgeny out.” Her heart thumped and she watched as he listened a moment more.

  “No, don’t risk any gunfire. Bleeding guests could put a dent in the party atmosphere.” He listened again. “I don’t know, Callaghan, but it’s why I recruited you both from Special Forces. Get special on his ass, and quick.”

  After he hung up, he paused for a moment. “Princess, you go this way, I’ll go that way. Find all the people who were in for the presentation. Get them back into the games room. Promise them each a thousand dollars on the roulette wheel.”

  “Including Cane?”

  “No, leave Cane to me. I have a different special offer for him.”

  They were about to move when Yvgeny stepped out and toward them. “Looking for me, lovebirds?” A boiling mix of emotion bubbled up in Princess, ready to burst, but she had to contain it all for now.

  Agostini said, “Yvgeny. I don’t know whether you got your invitation.”

  “I didn’t.” Callaghan and Calhoun approached from behind the Russian with their hands out to their sides.

  “Then I’m so very sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to leave. This is a ticket-only event.”

  “Ah, but I was having such fun here.”

  From behind Calhoun and Callaghan, half a dozen men in white tuxes and black jeans stepped into the passageway.

  Yvgeny said, “You know why they call it ‘Mexican Standoff’? Anyway, I think I have more men than you, so by the numbers, I will win if we start a shooting match.”

  He and Agostini looked at each other. Yvgeny said, “Still, it would be a shame to get so much blood all over the walls when you just had them painted.” He touched one. “Dark, though. It maybe won’t show too badly.”

  His brow wrinkled like he was thinking it over. He turned and walked over to Callaghan. “You want to be dead, Irishman? Is your boss worth you being dead for him?”

  The vein in Callaghan’s neck beat. Yvgeny turned and walked up to Agostini. “Are you afraid of me yet, Pierce Agostini?”

  “No, not yet, Yvgeny. Tell you what, why don’t I give you a call if it happens?”

  “Pretty cool for a stupid man,” Yvgeny said. “The coolest people often are the most stupid, don’t you find, tovarich? How do you think that works?”

  He stood back and looked from Pierce to Princess and back. “You two have no idea what you’re up against. No idea at all.”

  Princess shuddered but she tried not to let it show as he stood in front of her. “Agostini, you should take better care of your little mouse. She seems very exposed here, tovarich.” The way he looked at her throat made her cold.

  Agostini said, “Did you really sneak your little gang of Cossacks in here, just to huddle with Crane?”

  He turned and raised a hand. “We will discuss it all another time, Pierce,” he said, and he strode away. After just two steps, he spun around and came quickly up to Princess.

  “How about you, little mouse lady? Are you afraid of me?”

  Princess said, “It’s not something I’ve thought about, Yvgeny. Do you think I should be?”

  “Shame.
” Yvgeny shook his head. “Lovely girl.” He lifted her chin with the side of his finger. “What a waste.” Then he took his goons and left.

  Princess breathed out about as slowly and quietly as she could.

  “You handled yourself pretty well there,” Agostini told her.

  She trembled and her eyes blazed at him. “I’d say keeping my whole body from shaking itself apart was handling it very well.”

  “Fair point.”

  All her bones felt like they were turning to Jell-O as she stood in front of him. “I retained the power of speech ‘pretty well.’ ”

  “Okay.”

  Her insides quaked as she beat on Pierce’s chest with shaking fists. “Not emptying my bladder right in front of him. That was handling it all pretty well, I thought.” The sides of her fists found a rhythm as they bounced off his warm, hard body.

  Her eyes stung and her face prickled. It felt good to hit him. “Look what you’ve done to our club. We never had gangs of men coming here with guns before!”

  “They didn’t show any guns.”

  “They had them, though.” She beat him harder. “You know they did. Them, too.” Princess’ voice rose and she was about to turn and point at Callaghan and Calhoun.

  Pierce seized her. Held her. Her heart thundered and her throat was thick and jammed. He held her tighter. His strong arms wrapped around her shaking body. She was pressed against the hard front of him.

  “It’s okay now.” He held her with one arm and stroked her head with his hand. “You can beat me up later. It’s all under control now. Let’s not frighten the guests, all right?” And he stroked her cheek. Pulled her toward his face to whisper, “It’s okay.”

  Her whole body surged at him as she went to shout in his face, It doesn’t feel okay! But as he held her, it began to, and her lips landed on his. She kissed him with a trembling hunger. Pressed her soft body against him.

  Pierce’s taste filled her head. Coursed through her body. Like she tasted him with her breath. Her lungs, her breasts, her stomach, and her core. Like every space inside her drank and tasted him. Sucked him in, from her thighs to her tingling lips.

  She clung to him, wanting his strength. Wanting him to fill her with his raw, ruthless power. Needing to draw him in, to breathe him, wrap herself completely around him.

  He held onto her. She felt his breath deepen and he held her like she belonged to him and he would guard and keep her. Princess hung on. She didn’t want to stop believing. The recollection of having to face Yvgeny, to watch his lip curl as he came toward her, the echo set a thrumming chorus of vibration all the way through her.

  Pierce loosened his grip. She pulled away and looked in his face. He was concerned. Confident. Close. Bastard. She slapped his face as hard as she could.

  “All right,” she said. “There’s work to be done.”

  She had to be strong enough to make it through the rest of the evening. It could not all fall apart now. She had come through too much. Daddy wasn’t going to ruin it, Yvgeny wasn’t going to smash it all down, and Pierce Agostini was not going to take it all away from her.

  She was getting her damned club back, whatever it took.

  Whether he was more affected by the kiss or the slap, Agostini couldn’t tell, but he certainly was affected. This whole thing with Princess was boiling up into something that could get all the way out of control. He needed to take charge of the situation, and fast.

  The way that she turned, the girlish arrogance of the swing of her hips—he caught her wrist before he’d even thought it through. Pulled her, yanked her to him. Held her hard against him. Hard enough to feel her little heart pound.

  Her voice cracked. “Are you going to force me, Pierce? Will you take me whether I want it or not?”

  Her breath was warm on his neck as she panted. He looked in her eyes as he said, “That’s the second time you’ve asked.” He looked at her a long time. The pounding in his veins grew louder. “Sometimes I think that’s exactly what you do want, Princess.”

  Then her eyes gleamed and flashed as she struggled. But he held her firm. Her hot body heaved against him and the softness of her made him harden more.

  He laughed. “That is what you want, isn’t it. You want me to take you so that you can get what you want without having any responsibility for it.” Her eyes blazed as her jaw set. “I can see that I’m right.”

  Her hand swung to slap him in the face again but he caught her wrist. He thought about the last slap. Wished for a moment he’d let her have another one before he stopped her. The force of her arm shaking in his tight grip made up for it, though.

  Agostini couldn’t remember being this turned on by a girl. And, he’d come to notice, he hadn’t been turned on by another woman since he met her. What was that about?

  Her face was red as she struggled. Her thighs shook and her hips slammed against him. “I believe,” he said, “that is what’s called a ‘mixed message.’”

  She shook all over and shouted, “Why won’t you let me go?”

  He held her tighter, and the tighter he held her, the more he liked it. “Right now? It’s mainly because you don’t want me to.”

  She growled. He let her go. He didn’t want to, but he did. She turned and her heels made a thrilling click as she marched away.

  Pierce knew that he should have expected Yvgeny to find his way here. Inwardly, he was furious with himself for not having made a plan to deal with him. The encounter was loose. It was slack and uncontrolled.

  He had gotten away with it, but it could have gone either way. Around a deal this big, that was no good. There wasn’t time to think about it, though. Something else had to be dealt with right away.

  While Callaghan and Calhoun went searching, he took a bottle of bourbon and a tumbler and he set himself up in the new back office. He swung back and forth in the big chair behind the wide, leather-topped desk.

  The pool of light from the desk lamp was all of the light that was on in the room. He looked at the empty chair on the other side of the desk. When he heard a knock on the door, he waited. Poured a shot from the bottle and turned it around in the glass to watch the color.

  He waited a long time. Maybe two or three minutes. Then he said, “Come.”

  Calhoun swung open the door. He and Callaghan entered with Cane squashed between them. Holding the glass, Pierce pointed a finger at the chair in front of the desk. Cane sat down. Flushed in the face, he didn’t look as impeccably groomed as he had earlier, seated in front of the lectern where Agostini gave the address.

  Agostini looked at him. Sniffed the bourbon. Put the glass down on the desk very precisely.

  “Right on the night of the offer, right in the middle of it, after the presentation,” he said quietly, like he was thinking aloud. Ticking off the points. “Before the auction. All of a sudden, there was Yvgeny.” He looked at the bourbon again. “Quite a surprise, Cane.”

  Cane started to jabber. “I know. I was surp—” Pierce looked up at Calhoun. The two Irishmen both laid a hand on Cane’s shoulder. He was quiet. Pierce waited a moment. The pungent tang of Cane’s sweat rose in the warm, still air. The room was silent except for the bass from the music outside and the creaks of Cane’s chair.

  “I didn’t ask you a question, Cane.” He looked hard in the man’s eyes, which were darting everywhere. “You should try to keep your attention on me.”