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

by Ivy Layne

I knew why Magnolia wasn't answering her phone. She'd turned it off when Rosalie fell asleep. We'd gotten in the habit of turning off all the phones when Rosalie was napping. No interruption was worth waking the baby. We'd both read the entire stack of books we'd gotten from the baby store, so we were well aware that the conventional wisdom was to expose the sleeping baby to all sorts of noises so they'd sleep through them.

  Clearly, those people had never lived with a four-month-old. I loved Rosie. I’d never imagined it was possible to fall so completely head over heels for a tiny human being who couldn't even talk to me. That said, she was a hell of a lot easier to handle when she was sleeping. Every time she passed out, we were so fucking grateful that the idea of letting anything wake her up was unimaginable.

  And here was Sloane, working herself up to a hissy fit. No fucking way. Before I could say anything, Magnolia cut in. In a low voice, she said, "Keep your voice down, Sloane. Come into the office, and we can go over whatever you want to talk about."

  "Don't tell me to keep my voice down," Sloane snapped back, enunciating each word so precisely they shot from her mouth like bullets. "You were brought in to keep his business in line. That's the only reason you're here, and if you can't do that job, you’re welcome to leave."

  I expected Magnolia to lose her temper. She usually kept a handle on her emotions, but we hadn't been getting a lot of sleep and Sloane could be hard to take on a good day. Instead, she shook her head and looked at me, raising one eyebrow.

  "Can she fire me?" Magnolia asked, already knowing the answer. It was not the first time we'd had this conversation. It looked like Magnolia was prepared to be amused, but I was done with it.

  "She can't," I said, "and she damn well knows it."

  "Vance.” Sloane turned her back on Magnolia in an attempt to cut her out of the conversation. She placed one long-fingered hand on my chest. Her red-tipped fingernails reminded me of claws. Again, I wondered why Rupert put up with her.

  "Sloane," I countered, removing her hand from my chest and taking a step back. "If you can't learn to treat Magnolia with respect, we're going to have to reevaluate our working relationship. Do you understand me?"

  I kept my voice level and low, but there was no mistaking my intent. Sloane's eyes widened in disbelief. She stepped back, her eyes shooting between us.

  "You're sleeping with her," she screeched, pointing her finger at me and then at Magnolia.

  A tiny sneeze sounded from the bedroom, followed by another, then a third. Why was Rosie sneezing? Was she allergic to something? Sick? She'd seemed fine when we put her down. A second later, a high-pitched wail cut through the tension.

  Before I could stop her, Magnolia disappeared into the bedroom. She came back with Rosie in her arms. My daughter's wisps of black hair were standing straight up, her blue eyes tear-filled. She'd been asleep for two hours. Two blissful, productive hours. I put out my arms, and Magnolia handed me Rosie after dropping a kiss on her red nose. Rosie sneezed again.

  "She's hungry," Magnolia said, heading straight for the kitchen to mix up a bottle.

  "Thanks, Babe," I said, nuzzling Rosie's cheek with my lips and whispering meaningless murmurs of comfort. Her little hands closed over my ears, her tears dripping on my cheeks. I was still getting used to how tiny she was.

  "Excuse me? What the fuck is this?"

  "Watch the language around my daughter, Sloane," I admonished, surprised at how much I sounded like Magnolia when she was doing her British headmistress imitation.

  Sloane took a step back, her eyes pinging between Rosie, me, and Magnolia in the kitchen. I knew it would be funny later, but just then, all I wanted was for her to leave.

  I loved feeding Rosie. I loved the way she cuddled into me. She was still so mysterious, so difficult to predict, and the sense of accomplishment I got from feeding her when she was hungry kept me going all the times when she started crying and wouldn't stop. An empty stomach was a problem I could solve.

  Magnolia was almost done with the bottle. I shifted Rosie in my arms and pinned Sloane with a look.

  "As you can see, we're busy. If you need to work with Magnolia on something to do with the show, you can go in her office if you can keep your voice down. If Magnolia tells me you were anything other than professional, we're going to have a difficult conversation. Get me?"

  "Are you sleeping with her? Whose baby is that? What the fuck is going on, Vance?"

  "Sloane, this is the only time we’re going to talk about this. Yes, Magnolia and I are together. However, it's none of your business. This is Rosalie," I said, angling the baby so Sloane could get a good look at her. "She's my daughter. I have full custody of her now, so she's going to be in my life. None of this is your concern. If you can't stick to business when you talk to Magnolia or me, I will fire you and find another agent and another gallery."

  "You can't fire me," Sloane said.

  "I can do whatever I want," I said. "Let me explain my priorities, so we're clear. Rosalie comes first. Then Magnolia. Then my family. My work, business, all the rest of it, is an afterthought. Do you get that? Don't fuck with my family."

  Magnolia came back with the bottle, her steps hesitant, her eyes on Rosalie. Ignoring both Sloane and myself, she put the bottle down on the side table and pulled Rosie from my arms. "Is her nose running because she was crying? Does she feel warm to you?"

  Magnolia leaned into my side, offering up Rosie's flushed cheek. I laid my fingers on her pink skin. She felt warm, but she always felt warm when she woke up from a nap. I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck, remembering that the doctor had said that was a more reliable gauge of her temperature.

  Shit. She did feel warm.

  "Should we take her to the doctor?" I asked, anxiety spiraling in my gut. She was too tiny to be sick. Logic told me kids got sick. But this was my kid. I was supposed to protect her, not let her get sick.

  "Let's feed her first. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's allergies."

  It was early in the year for allergies, but I didn't want to argue. We were both grasping. Magnolia handed me Rosie and turned to face Sloane.

  "I can give you half an hour. What do you need to talk about?"

  Sloane ignored her to stare at me in wide-eyed astonishment. "Are you serious? You've suddenly got a baby, and now you're fucking Magnolia? What is she now, the nanny?"

  I wrapped my arm around Magnolia, pulling her into my side. Under her breath, she hissed, "Vance, what are you doing?"

  In answer, I kissed her temple and tightened my arm. Her lush curves felt so perfect pressed into me that I had to wrestle my attention back to Sloane.

  "Sloane, I'm not going to say it again. I have more important things to worry about than your temper tantrums. I'm with Magnolia, end of story. It has nothing to do with you, and if you give her a hard time about it, you're fired."

  "We have a contract," she said, glaring at Magnolia.

  "Read it," I said. "If I don't like how this is working out, I can walk with thirty days’ written notice. Think about that before you open your mouth again."

  Sloane took a deep breath, started to speak, then pressed her thin lips together, still glaring at Magnolia. Ignoring her, I dropped my head to murmur in Magnolia's ear. "If you really have to talk to her, leave the office door open, okay?"

  "Okay, but what the hell, Vance?"

  Her beautiful blue eyes swirled with confusion and frustration. This wasn't the right way to escalate our relationship. But I was realizing there was no right way. There was never going to be a perfect moment. I could either wait forever or I could take charge.

  Magnolia was going to run, and I was going to chase her. That was our reality, and I was finally ready to deal with it.

  I couldn't resist grazing her rounded cheekbone with my lips, loving the way her skin flushed under the gentle touch.

  "Just telling Sloane how it is," I whispered.

  "But, we're not—" she stammered, trying to step back. I held her tightly against my
side, not ready to let her go.

  "Semantics," I said. "Not right this second, but we will be. No point in pretending otherwise."

  I dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and let her go. Rosie was squirming in my arms, ready for her bottle. Her breathing sounded funny in my ears, as if her nose were congested. Shit. I really, really didn't want her to be sick. Not until she could talk to me and tell me what was wrong. She was too little. Too fragile.

  I watched Magnolia disappear into the office with Sloane, leaving the door wide open as I'd told her to. I couldn't hear the specifics of their conversation, but I heard the tone. It was level and polite enough to satisfy me. I hadn't been bluffing with Sloane. She was a bitch, but I'd kept her on all these years because she was good at her job, she sold my work, and in the process, she handled the shit I didn't want to.

  I enjoyed business, investing. I loved creating things with metal and fire. I did not like selling art. I hated the parties and the bad wine and the people fawning over me as if sucking up would get them anything. Sloane handled all of that. Neither Magnolia nor I had any interest in taking over the management of my art career.

  Now that Rosie had entered our lives, we didn't have the time, either. I'd put up with Sloane for the sake of convenience, but if she said anything to hurt Magnolia's feelings, she was fired.

  Sloane left without a word to me almost exactly a half-hour from the moment she'd entered Magnolia's office. By that time, I'd almost forgotten she was there. Rosie had finished her bottle, but it had taken some coaxing. Her appetite was off, her cheeks were flushed, and her nose was a snot faucet. My baby girl was sick.

  Magnolia must have known, because she left her office and went straight to the bathroom, where we'd stored the kit of baby first aid crap. She came out with the high-tech infrared thermometer I'd picked out, and after scanning the directions, she turned it on, hit a few buttons, and held it gently yet firmly against Rosie's forehead. Five seconds later, it beeped, and the screen turned red. 101.4

  "I'm taking her to the doctor," I said.

  "I'll call and let them know we're on the way.”

  I won't lie. I was relieved Magnolia was coming with me. I could handle Rosie on my own, but I was not feeling all that confident in my fathering skills now that I'd realized I had a sick baby on my hands. I needed Magnolia. Between the two of us, we could handle anything. I wasn't sure of much lately, but I was sure about that.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  VANCE

  * * *

  The doctor didn't laugh at us. Not exactly, but I could tell he wanted to. Rosie had a cold. The doctor listened to her heart, her lungs, checked her temperature, and pronounced her a normal, healthy four-month-old who'd caught a cold. He gave us instructions about her fever and her breathing and what to do about all the snot before sending us on our way.

  I should've been relieved to hear that everything was normal. The doctor was good. The best. I was a Winters. We always had the best. Still, Rosie had gotten worse since she'd woken from her nap.

  A nagging worry prodded me. What if he was wrong? What if he'd missed something? What if it wasn't a cold? What if it was pneumonia?

  I pushed my anxiety away. This wasn't me. I didn't worry. But I’d never had anyone completely dependent on my judgment before. I hated seeing Rosie so miserable. She looked at me from watery blue eyes identical to my own, and I imagined I saw accusation there. I was her father. I should be able to fix everything. Why wasn’t I fixing this?

  Blowing off work for the rest of the day, we went back to Magnolia’s after picking up the dog and a few supplies at the loft. We were both too worried about Rosie to focus on business.

  “Can you hand me the thermometer?” Magnolia asked. Pacing the small sitting room off the kitchen, she held Rosie against her chest, rubbing her back in gentle circles.

  “You just took her temp, Babe. The doctor told us not to worry,” I said, giving her the thermometer. It was easy to tell Magnolia not to worry but harder to take my own advice.

  I didn’t want her to know how freaked out I was. I was supposed to be the strong one. Wasn’t I? I didn’t feel strong. I was helpless and frustrated and grateful Magnolia was there to worry with me.

  “What is it?” I asked when the thermometer beeped.

  “99.1,” she said, relief evident in her voice.

  “Good. Better. Let me take her, and I’ll change her. Maybe she can get some sleep. She’s off her nap schedule.”

  I took Rosie and headed upstairs. Diapers and feedings no longer scared me. This cold was new, but I felt like I’d changed a thousand diapers and made even more bottles in the past few weeks. I held Rosie tucked into my arm as I gave her the bottle, relieved to see her eating, even if she didn’t seem as into her formula as usual.

  From the sitting room in the master suite, I had a full view of the expansive grounds behind the house. Rolling green lawn sprawled between artfully placed trees and free-form flower beds. While the front of the house was formal, the private spaces looked like the setting for a fairy tale, cultivated and beautiful, but with a thread of wild beneath. Just like Magnolia. She was out there with Scout, throwing a tennis ball for her dog over and over.

  She’d changed clothes when we’d come home. She dressed more formally during the work day, but I’d realized that my girl liked to be casual when she wasn’t working. One more thing her dickhead of an ex had given her shit about.

  He’d wanted her dressed to the nines around the clock. How could he have been so stupid? Watching Magnolia playing with Scout, her dark red hair streaming behind her as she ran after the ball, her full ass and round tits sexy as hell in her faded jeans and worn t-shirt, I couldn’t understand how he’d let her go. How could anyone miss how beautiful she was?

  All afternoon, I’d been waiting for Magnolia to blast me for telling Sloane we were together. I hadn’t said we were fucking, but I hadn’t denied it either. I’d gone out of my way to make it clear that Magnolia was mine. I’d expected her to confront me as soon as Sloane left.

  If it weren’t for Rosie, she probably would have. Now that her temper had cooled, she’d reverted to form. Typical Magnolia. Ignore, deny, and pretend there’s nothing to talk about. That wasn’t going to work this time. I could wear her down. I would wear her down. She belonged with me. We both knew it.

  I was finished with giving her space. If she didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine. I’d said we were together, and I’d meant it. We were already closer than most couples, especially now that we were living together. There was only one thing missing.

  Magnolia hadn’t had sex in over a month. At least. Probably more. I had a feeling the dickhead hadn’t done his part in the bedroom. I hadn’t slept with another woman since before they’d broken up. I was holding out for Magnolia. She was the only woman I wanted.

  We’d both feel a hell of a lot better once I got her naked.

  Watching her bend over to pick up the tennis ball, her luscious ass in full view, I hoped I’d be able to manage it soon. I was working on the worst case of blue balls I’d had since I’d learned what my dick was for. I’d been patient long enough. So had Magnolia. She just didn’t know it yet.

  Rosie fell asleep after her bottle. Her cheeks still felt too warm, but not as hot as earlier. I burped her carefully, trying not to wake her. It drove Magnolia nuts that I could manage to burp Rosie while she was sleeping.

  I always told Magnolia it was my skill with women, but the truth was that I had no idea how I did it. Much like the rest of being a dad, I was working on instinct, doing the best I could. I checked the monitor to make sure it was on and went downstairs to find Magnolia fiddling with the lock on the back door.

  “Was it open again?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I thought I checked it before we left this morning and it was shut, but when I went to let Scout out, the deadbolt wasn’t closed all the way. It’s weird.”

  “Who has the keys?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.

&
nbsp; “No one,” Magnolia said, shaking her head. “It was only Brayden and me, and I took his keys when he left.”

  “But you never had the locks changed?” I said.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. I just need to call a locksmith and get this fixed. It’s been sticky forever.”

  “I’m calling Evers,” I said. “You need better security here. I don’t know why I didn’t have it upgraded earlier. I assumed your grandmother would have had a better system on the house. You barely have an alarm.”

  Magnolia put her hands on her hips and faced me, color high in her cheeks. “I don’t need you to upgrade my security, Vance. I can take care of myself. Contrary to what you told Sloane, we are not together. You don’t get to take charge of my life.”

  I crossed the room until I was standing right in front of Magnolia, looking down into her angry face. “We are together, Magnolia.”

  “We aren’t!” She raised her hands to push me away. Catching her fingers in mine, I tugged, pulling her to my chest.

  "Vance!" Magnolia went to step back, but it was too late. I dropped her hands and wound my arms around her back, bringing her body flush to mine.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warned.

  She opened her mouth to say God only knows what, and I kissed her. She wasn't drunk, and she wasn't half-asleep. If she really didn't want me, I'd know in a few seconds.

  It would kill me to do it, but if she really didn't want me, I'd walk away.

  Her mouth was soft under mine, her lips full and sweet. I ran my tongue along the inside of her lower lip, and she moaned. Tilting my head, I closed my mouth over hers, tasting her, her breath mingling with mine, swallowing the tiny, needy sounds she made.

  Fuck, just a kiss and I was hard as stone. The way her heart pounded in her chest, I would've bet Magnolia was just as turned on as I was. I wanted to strip her clothes off and fuck her right there in the kitchen, but I wasn't going to. Twice, I’d rushed her and twice, she’d frozen me out. This time, I was in control. If I let her call the shots, we’d still be dancing around each other on our deathbeds.