“I figured you wouldn’t mind too much if I interrupted your hour of rest if I paid for it in the form of a foot massage,” I said.
She sighed and took another bite of pizza. “This feels so decadent considering I just ruined my sister’s life.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t ruin shit. Patrick did. He dug his own grave, not you. Don't you fucking blame yourself for his mistakes. It’s not like you lead him on or anything. He’s a grown boy. Let him make his own mistakes, as abundant as they may be.” I kneaded my hands into the arches of her feet. She was relaxing more with every single pulse of my fingers. She finished her pizza and wiped her hands on the cloth napkin on the tray.
I had methodically been moving my massage further and further up her legs. Now I was at her mound. She didn’t tell me to stop as I slid my fingers into her, reaching forward to kiss her lips. She wrapped her legs around me and I entered her, gliding and thrusting as she screamed out in pleasure.
“Bathtub sex is my favorite sex,” she whispered a few minutes later.
I laughed. “It’s a lot of work for me, but whatever makes you happy.” I kissed her forehead.
She sighed. “How many phone calls did you get from the show’s producers about the video?”
“All of them,” I responded. “Don’t worry, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not in trouble, am I?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No,” I replied. “Your only job at this point is to show up to that party tomorrow. I’ll take care of everything else.”
***
Rachel wasn’t as upset as I thought she would be about the hair, makeup, and ball gown team I had Michael send up the next day. She spent the afternoon being massaged, waxed, buffed, and polished while I worked out in the gym. When I came upstairs, she was being fitted into couture. She had a smile on her makeup-covered face.
I got close to her but she held up her hands. “No hugs and kisses until you’ve showered. You’ll ruin the silk.” She motioned to the floor-length royal blue dress she’d been poured into. It hugged her every curve. The seamstress had pins in her mouth as her assistant sewed away at the hem of the dress. “As usual, I’m too short so they have to shorten the hem.”
I smiled and chugged the rest of my bottle of water. “You’re not too short. You’re just right.”
I showered and changed, marveling at how long society made women take to get ready to meet its arbitrary standards. I hung out in the bedroom until I got the all-clear from Michael.
“Your princess and chariot awaits, sir,” he said from the doorway.
I stood up from the edge of the bed and shut off the Star Wars marathon that I’d been watching. “Do I look alright?”
“Honestly, sir?” He asked me. I nodded. “You look like utter shite compared to the woman who will be on your arm this evening. But that can’t be helped and certainly isn’t your fault. It’s an impossible standard with such a radiant specimen.”
I laughed and patted him on the arm. “You’re a good man, Michael.”
“Don’t mess this up, sir,” he responded. Then he reached out to straighten my bow tie. “Good luck.”
He’d been right. Rachel took my breath away. She stood in the foyer waiting for me, a diamond-covered purse clutched under her arm. The front of the blue silky dress had been hemmed so it kissed the floor; a small train trailed in the back. Her auburn hair was done in finger waves around her face; false eyelashes skimming her green eyes and fading into a smoky shadow across her lids. She wasn’t wearing her glasses; I’d bought her new contact lenses. I missed the frames but I didn’t miss how they hid her perfect eyes. The fabric of the strapless dress hugged her ample, cream-colored cleavage.
I took her hand and kissed it. “I don’t have glass slippers for you,” I said. “But I’m going to do my best to make sure you don’t get away from me tonight.”
Rachel smiled. “I feel like somebody else but in a really good way.”
I leaned forward to kiss her. She put her hand up. “Lipstick. Later.”
“Mm, I think a makeup team was a mistake,” I said, kissing her ear in the car. “I like you better as one hundred percent Rachel and your lips as free as humanly possible.” I kissed down her neck, breathing on her warm skin. Goosebumps appeared where my lips touched her. “Doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you somewhere else.”
We were in a hired limo that the network had sent to pick us up. The divider was up between us and the driver. Rachel giggled and pushed me away. “Later, horn dog. Seriously.”
I sighed. “Fine. Your loss.”
“Oh, I know it is.” She pulled her iPhone out of her purse. I’d bought her a brand new smartphone months ago after I couldn’t get in touch with her. Her piece of shit former phone lost charge so frequently she never answered it.
“You heard from your sister yet?” I asked.
Rachel shook her head. “Ten missed calls from that asshole Patrick, though.”
Her face was pained and I balled my fist up, wanting desperately to hunt Patrick down and kick the shit out of him. “You should block his number.”
“Can I do that?”
I reached for her iPhone and saw she had ten missed calls, ten voicemails, and a dozen texts. I went into his contact information and blocked it, handing it back to her. “Now we can enjoy our evening and hopefully the rest of our lives without worrying about him.”
Rachel grimaced. “I hate that things turned out like this. I was never interested in him. I thought he’d gotten over me.” Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew distant.
“Did you really think that?” I asked her pointedly. She seemed to be remembering things.
She shook her head slowly. “There were moments. I guess I just didn’t want to allow myself to believe it because I just had that little interest in him. And I didn’t want to hurt my sister. I had to push him away a lot, in retrospect.” She bit her lip. “I asked for his advice back in July when we made the, you know. Contract.”
My stomach flipped over and adrenaline rushed through my body. “You told him? About the details?”
She shook her head furiously. “No, no. Not the details. Just the broad strokes. That there was something you wanted me to do. I think he possibly may have guessed what it was. But I tried not to tell him anything, honestly.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. The limo stopped. We were there. “We’ll talk about this later. I’ll have Michael hunt him down and see how much he’s figured out.”
Rachel looked upset. But so was I.
I slid out of the limo onto the red carpet. The event was being held at the biggest ballroom in the city. I held my hand up to the flashing lights and cameras and put on my trademark grimace. I helped Rachel out of the limo. She seemed shocked. I hadn’t prepared her for all of this attention, and that was entirely on me.
I saw Liz and Roger up ahead, but Vince was nowhere to be found. “I forgot to tell you that Vince is sick,” I muttered apologetically to Rachel. I knew that Liz and Roger were together as a platonic date for tonight’s events. I scanned the Boiler Room people lined up with the press. I was looking for Scott. I found him, his dour expression casting a shadow around everyone around him. An overly-eager journalist with blinding white teeth was peppering him with questions. He seemed to be delivering monosyllabic answers, but the journalist was unbothered by it. It would make for great B-roll for the ten o’clock news.
B-roll that would run before mine and Rachel’s co-cover story. Because we were the real news here. I knew that would eat at Scott.
Rachel had plastered on a smile. She looked up at me and said through gritted teeth: “Is my makeup too much?”
“No,” I whispered. “Every man in that ballroom is going to want you as his own. But you’re all mine.” Then I swooped her over my arm, dipping her halfway to the ground, and planted a kiss on her that I was sure would turn my lips red.
Let them put that on the ten o’clock news.
&n
bsp; CHAPTER NINETEEN
RACHEL
I hadn’t been expecting all of this fanfare outside of the hotel ballroom. When we made it inside, I was greeted by socialites milling about. I noticed the mayor and his posse across the room. The mayor smiled and held up his hand, waving us both over. Zane had such a firm grip around my waist I thought he might snap his hand off.
He was remaining true to his word: he wasn’t letting me get away tonight.
“Zane, so good to see you,” said Mayor John Samuel, flashing his creepy politician smile. He ignored me. “We have a seat for you right next to me and my wife. Why don’t you go scope it out and we’ll catch up later?”
Zane nodded and shook his hand. “Thanks, John. Much appreciated.” Zane steered me away toward the front of the ballroom. There was a small stage set up. “Fuck, I hate that guy,” Zane muttered under his breath. We made it to our table.
There was no placard for me. “Fuck,” Zane said loudly. He looked around the room and saw Jane. He waved her over. She came running, nearly tripping on her high heels.
“Rachel,” she said, nodding at me. “You look gorgeous tonight.”
“As do you,” I said.
I saw her eyes flash to the ring on my finger and Zane’s hand around my waist. She was trying valiantly to ignore it. “What’s up, Mr. Reid?”
“Rachel doesn’t have a seat at my table.”
Jane’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t RSVP for a guest.”
“Yeah, I did,” Zane said forcefully. “I most certainly fucking did.”
Jane blanched. “I’ll-I’ll get the party planner. But we really can’t get another seat for her at this table. We’d either have to bump the head of the network’s wife or the mayor’s, and you know that isn’t happening.”
Zane’s face darkened. “Fix it,” he said.
Jane didn’t fix it. She tried to fix it. But the Mayor swept Zane away, my fiancé mouthing a hurried apology to me. I was shunted to the overflow table near the bathrooms. It was just as well. I didn’t mind not having to be on my best behavior for the night. I put my purse down in a chair next to an old man who had fallen asleep. He was snoring in his tuxedo. I was reminded for one surreal moment of several months before in the library. The contrast between the moth-eaten chairs, a used newspaper and the moment before me made my head spin.
Look how far I’d come.
The band was playing rousing swing music and several people had started dancing. I sipped champagne stolen from the table next to me, completely content with my comatose companion. I reached into my purse and opened the Kindle app on my iPhone. I’d never done so much reading as I had since Zane had purchased this phone for me. I used to sneak paperback books into much bigger purses at parties when I was younger. Callie hated it. She said I was embarrassing her by being anti-social.
My stomach burned at the thought of my sister. I’d give anything to have her be upset right now that I was reading at a social function instead of why she was actually upset with me.
I opened up the recent release from my favorite romance author and started reading. It was my little secret that these were the books I loved the most. Their books were my only break my brain ever had from reality, and I relished in it.
I was twenty pages into the latest bodice ripper when the sound of a purse hitting the chair next to me nearly made me jump. “God, I hate parties like this.” I looked up. It was Liz.
“Hi Ms. Anders-“
She shook her head. “Call me Liz, please. I can’t stand any more sycophants tonight.” She took the place card of the person who was supposed to be sitting there and crumpled it up, tossing it under the table. She reached into her enormous handbag and pulled out a bottle of Chandon champagne. “I bring my own to shindigs like this. The network never splurges on the good stuff.” She took my champagne glass and dumped it out into a spare glass on the table, uncorking her own and pouring both of us generous glasses to enjoy. “Here’s to not having to talk to anyone else for the rest of the goddamned evening.”
I put my phone back in my purse and raised my champagne glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
Liz downed her glass in a single series of gulps and motioned to Zane. He was sitting dead-faced next to the mayor, who was telling a story that the rest of the table apparently found hysterical. “You see Zane, right now? He can get away with making that face for the rest of the evening. If I so much as sneezed in here, someone would have a cover image of me with the headline ‘Liz Anders rages at Boiler Room premiere.’”
I laughed. “That’s the price to pay for being a woman I guess.” I finished my glass of champagne and set it on the table. “Zane sent you over here, didn’t he?”
Liz grinned. “He’s a good guy, Rachel. You’re lucky to have him.”
“I know,” I replied. “Do you – are you…married?”
“Not anymore,” she said. “My husband passed away and I’d rather be alone and happy than miserable and with someone else. I’ve got five kids though. Single mom and all of that. It’s a hell of a lot easier when you’ve got a billion dollars, let me tell you. I’ve been a married mom broke and a single mom rich. Don’t let anyone tell you that money doesn’t buy you happiness. Only people with money say that.”
Ryan Angel tapped on the microphone. A screech went out over the ballroom and everyone grabbed their ears in pain. “Sorry,” Ryan said, beaming at the crowd. He’d been spray-tanned within an inch of his life and looked like a tall Oompa Loompa. “Ladies and gentleman, we are here to celebrate the premiere of Boiler Room set in the greatest city on earth!” He paused for the cheers and applause.
Liz rolled her eyes and poured more champagne. “Panderer,” she muttered. I laughed.
“We’ll be playing only the highlights from the show tonight; specifically, the best deals from the premiere episode so we can let you get back to your food and dancing. Or more specifically, your alcohol.”
Liz held up her champagne glass and hollered up at the stage. The lights dimmed and a white screen was lowered from the ceiling. The sound boomed and the edited footage rolled. “I’ll be in the bathroom,” I whispered to Liz.
“I hate watching myself on TV too. I’m going to go step outside for some air,” she said. “Meet back here in forty minutes? I’ll see if I can get some food snuck out here from the kitchen.” I nodded and nearly ran to the bathroom.
I wandered into a stall and shut the door. I could hopefully read in here without anyone bothering me for a few minutes. I was deep into the second chapter of the evening when I heard feminine voices enter the bathroom in a group. I never did understand why women felt the need to pee together. It was bizarre.
“…Reid tonight? God I could swim in those blue eyes and dimples.”
“You take the dimples. I’ll take his ass.”
“I’ll take his money,” said a third voice. “I’ve already had his ass. So to speak.”
The women all giggled together.
I felt my face growing hot, a knot of jealousy twisting in my stomach.
“It’s a pity he’s engaged. It won’t last, though. Imagine going on a TV show to just wallet fuck one of the investors?”
“Eh, I don’t think that’s why she did it. She seemed genuinely interested in getting her business off the ground.”
“It’s called acting. Give me a fucking break,” said the voice of the woman who had allegedly fucked my fiancé.
I tried to slow my breathing; I felt like it was loud enough that they could hear me in here.
I heard the clicking of makeup compacts and purses. “She’s just some Southern girl. She’s not even that pretty, honestly.”
“She’s got pretty big tits, though. You know Zane likes those.”
“Whatever. I don’t know what his game is, but trust me. She is not his type at all. Imagine her coming to more functions? Red carpet events? She’d trip over her buck teeth and fall on her fat ass in any kind of high heel. She’s a wallet fucker and if Zane’s not al
ready playing some game, he’ll realize she’s only after his money. Just wait. She’s basically his whore, bought and paid for.” I heard a few sighs. “Are you peeing or not?”
“Nah, I’m good. Food time.”
I waited until their voices left the room to start crying.
It was another good ten minutes before I left the bathroom. I had to fix my makeup as best as I could with wet paper towels. I reapplied my lip gloss that the makeup artist had gifted to me and took a look in the mirror. My face was blotchy and my eyes were red and glassy. It was completely, utterly obvious that I’d been sobbing my heart out. This and sunburns were the two things I hated about being so pale.
I took a steadying breath and plowed through the door of the bathroom where I ran smack into Scott Friend. “Sorry,” I gasped. He was the last person I wanted to run into.
He ran his brown, beady eyes over my face and pulled out a handkerchief. “You missed some mascara,” he said.
I took the handkerchief gratefully and dabbed underneath my eyes again. He’d been right. I tried to hand the handkerchief back to him but he put his hand up to deny me. “Keep it. Consider it a souvenir.”
I snapped it into my purse, making a mental note to toss it into a trash can before Zane saw it. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “I knew it was only a matter of time before Zane made you cry.” I opened my mouth to respond but he cut me off. “I’m kidding. Sometimes I cry when I see myself on TV as well.”
“This has been great, but I really should get going.“ I pushed past him but he stopped me.
“Business going alright? I’m guessing you, what? Doubled your sales projections but still haven’t serviced one-one-hundredth of the people you wanted to, am I right? And Zane is slow to build those pharmaceutical connections?”
I blinked at him. “How do you know-“
“I’ve literally made it my business to know these things. You know, I would still fund your business. Break your contract with Zane. I can do everything you want. I can convince the pharmaceutical companies to license your technology, no exclusivity contracts. We can get into doctor’s offices before they do, I promise you that.”
Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Page 13
