The Boss Vol. 6: a Hot Billionaire Romance

by Cari Quinn

  “Blake, Grace.” Danny smiled and glanced between us, barely sparing a look at Dante. “This is a surprise. What brings you to the city?”

  “No more a surprise for you than it is for us, I assure you.” I rose and extended a hand to him, then offered a quick smile to his wife. She stood behind him, her eyes shuttered, her mouth pursed. Had they been arguing? “Hi Marina. You look lovely.”

  She glanced down at her navy wrap dress as if she didn’t remember what she wore. “Oh, this. Thank you, Blake. Hi again, Grace,” she added, leaning around her husband to smile at Grace.

  Grace nodded and gave her a little finger wiggle. Then she knocked back the rest of her wine.

  I understood the sentiment.

  “So you two are just out for a romantic meal, is it? This is certainly the place for it.” Danny gestured around us. “Best food in Brooklyn, though I have to say I’m surprised the local secret reached all the way to Marblehead.”

  “It reached you,” I said shortly. “Yes, the food was delicious. The company even better.”

  And if my hackles went up any higher, I’d start splitting the seams of my jacket.

  “Wonderful. Ours was as well.” Danny cocked his head. “How long have you both been coming here?”

  “First visit.” I didn’t bother with a smile this time. Danny’s interrogation was starting to feel like way more than friendly conversation. “And you?”

  “We’ve been here a few times.” Danny waved a hand, dismissing it as he appeared to notice Dante at the table. “Dante Costas, is it? I recognize your photo from the lobby.”

  Sure he did.

  “Guilty as charged.” Dante rose, slow and slinky as a dark snake winding through a glade. “I’m so pleased to hear you’re a fan of our cuisine. And you would be?”

  “Daniel Donnelly, and this is my wife, Marina.” They made a show of shaking hands, and I arched a brow at Grace.

  I half expected to see the side of her face while she stared off anywhere else, but she was already staring back at me. So she’d picked up on the ripe scent of bullshit in the air too.

  Which meant it was time to retreat and regroup.

  I made a show of looking at my watch. “I hate to eat and run, but we’re due to a late movie.”

  “Oh really? I love movies. They’re a guilty pleasure of mine, actually.” Dante shot his cuffs as he walked around the table. “Which flick are you going to see?”

  Grace rose. “Betty bangs Brooklyn,” she said, grabbing her purse.

  Dante chuckled. “Feisty indeed. You have your hands full with this one.” He tipped his head at me. “I’ll have your coats brought to you. And I’ll be in touch.”

  I nodded, though I could bet the quality of intel I’d be getting from Dante would be near to worthless.

  He knew about the Philomena, Annabelle and Robert connection, no matter what he said about being too busy to involve himself with social agendas. I could also guarantee he was well aware that Trawley Avenue was a street that didn’t exist in Flatbush.

  “Thanks for getting us in on short notice. I imagine dinner reservations are hard to procure here.” I tilted my head at Danny. “You must have an in.”

  He didn’t so much as blink. “Me? No. Just lucky.” He laughed and clapped my shoulder. “You’re the big man around here, Blake.”

  I’d never been overly close to Violet’s brother, but then again, I’d never paid him much mind. He seemed nice enough, and again, Vi’s brother so he was inner circle—to a point.

  At the moment, I was more glad than ever that my personal relationship policy hovered between guarded and outright paranoia.

  A hostess appeared with our coats. Grace snatched hers and pulled it on before I could move. Then she directed a frosty smile at Dante. “The food was wonderful. The bullshit that came afterward, however? I could’ve done without that.”

  Dante’s unflappable expression never altered. “Tesoro mia, that was your date’s choice, not mine. I prefer to wine and romance a lovely lady if I am lucky enough to have her presence, not speak of unpleasant things.”

  “Yeah, murder is damn unpleasant.”

  Beside me, Danny stiffened. Marina reached out to stroke his arm, quietly soothing.

  “Grace, let’s go.” I didn’t bother to temper my tone. The air in the restaurant was too cloying and close, and I needed to be outside.

  Away from everyone but her.

  She didn’t argue, surprising me yet again. “Danny, Marina, nice to see you again.” She brushed past them and across the room, weaving through tables as if she’d been there a million times before.

  After offering my hasty goodbyes, I managed to reach the exit a step before her. I held open the door. She sailed through it without glancing my way or offering a thank you.

  That was fine. We were beyond the point of meaningless manners anyway.

  She started down the street in the direction we’d come, but I reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her without a word. She glared at me, but she walked with me up the block in the other direction.

  At the corner, we turned and walked past a few more storefronts, finally stopping beneath a handpainted sign that said Killer Cupcakes in girly script with an arrow pointing upstairs. I gestured her ahead of me and she went up the narrow flight of steps along the side of the building that led to the second level. She didn’t wait for me again, pushing her way inside with a tinkle of bells over the door.

  It was only when I glanced at my watch that I realized exactly how late it was. I was amazed Grace hadn’t picked up on the unlikelihood of a bakery having these kind of night hours.

  Probably too torqued at me to care at the moment.

  Good thing I’d paid handsomely for the chance for Grace to pick out exactly which sweet treats she wanted to take home. To mitigate her fury with me, I’d better buy out the whole shop.

  Oh, wait, already did that, minus the stock.

  Grace was studying the miles of frosted glass cases still full of cupcakes and other gooey confections when I crossed the glossy black and white tiles. She made no move to acknowledge me.

  “Anything look good to you?”

  She didn’t reply. Okay then.

  I glanced up as a gorgeous young blond woman came out from a back room, wiping her hands on a towel hooked to her waist. She gave me a big smile. “Mr. Carson, you made it.”

  “I did.”

  “I’m so glad. It’s good to see you again.” She beamed widely, and while I returned her smile, I was acutely aware of Grace’s piercing stare drilling into my left earlobe.

  “Yes. I really appreciate you doing this for us. I realize it’s an imposition.”

  “Oh no, no imposition. I was a tourist once too.” Carly let go of my hand and turned her bright smile on Grace. “Hi. I’m Carly Costas. Let me help you pick out something yummy.”

  I wasn’t oblivious to the way Grace bristled at Carly’s last name, but I also wasn’t going to deal with it right now. She could just add it to the list of things to yell at me about, since I wasn’t about to make a scene in Carly’s shop.

  The first time I’d met Carly, I liked her. She was the exact opposite of the people we’d just left. Guileless, open. And the little tow-headed girl with huge dark eyes who toddled out and clung to her ankles didn’t hurt the image either.

  “Oh, Gianna. What are you doing? I thought you were playing in back. Can’t leave you for a moment.” She scooped up her daughter and set her on her hip, then walked around the glass-fronted case to join Grace and I in front of the sweets. “I know what you’ve chosen in the past, Blake, but what else are you looking for tonight? Something new perhaps?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked between us. “I have a new line of treats with aphrodisiac properties, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

  I wondered if Carly noticed Grace hadn’t so much as even smiled at me since we stepped into the shop. She was a married woman. Maybe she figured that was the usual way of things.

  Hell, m
aybe it was, though I was reasonably certain mob tie reveals weren’t a usual part of dinner festivities.

  So much for our romantic date.

  “I think we’ll just stick to something usual, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Dealer’s choice,” Carly said cheerfully, juggling her daughter so she could tap the case near a platter of red and white cupcakes drizzled with some kind of rich chocolate sauce. “These are obviously decorated for the holidays, with a topper of chocolate ganache. Always ups the decadence. They’re my favorite.”

  Grace made a noncommittal sound.

  Undeterred, Carly moved on to the next case. “Over here, we have some chocolate-filleds, plus some eclair cupcakes.” She glanced back and let out a delighted laugh at Grace’s cocked head. “I know, as if eclairs needed any more help, right? These are great. The best part is they’re mini-sized so you can convince yourself eating two is like eating half of a regular one. Do you mind for a sec?” She held out her daughter toward Grace, who shrank back as if she’d been presented with a ticking explosive.

  I coughed into my fist.

  “I just want to grab the platter.” When Grace made no move to take the baby, Carly slid her gaze to me and offered her child. I was pretty sure I managed not to give the wide-eyed tot the same look of sheer panic that Grace had, but it wasn’t easy. “Just for a sec. C’mon, Mr. Carson, you’ve held her before. She won’t bite you. She’s already been fed like twenty times tonight.”

  “You’ve held her before?” Grace frowned as if Carly had just announced I’d had a wild sexual romp with her between the bakery cases. “When?”

  “Last time Mr. Carson came in. A month or two ago, wasn’t it?”

  “Closer to three,” I said smoothly, reaching for the baby. “And please, call me Blake.” I’d told her that several times, but it never stuck for long.

  Gianna went willingly into my arms, curling into me as if she remembered me. Of course that wasn’t possible. She tipped back her head and nailed me with those big dark doe eyes, studying me and probably finding me hopelessly lacking.

  “Hi there,” I said weakly.

  She gave me a smile, heavy on the drool.

  “Oh jeez, Gianna, not the way to present yourself to a handsome man.” Carly hustled forward to clean up her daughter’s mouth and then returned to the counter to tug out the tray for Grace and my inspection.

  Since I currently had a chubby blond vixen-in-training pulling on my tie with chubby fingers, it was hard to concentrate on buttercream frosting and chocolate fondant.

  “They all look really good.” Apparently the sight of me cuddling a baby—sort of cuddling awkwardly—was so shocking to Grace that she forgot to be angry long enough to actually look at Carly’s offerings.

  I was glad I couldn’t see exactly how I looked with Gianna now trying to suck on my tie. Big gummy lips sliding up and down, even bigger eyes flashing up at me as if she was daring me to tell her no.

  Like anyone could. She was ridiculously cute, and I wasn’t one to be struck dumb by babies or small animals. Then again, I usually didn’t have to hold every warm, sweet-smelling ounce of them in my arms either.

  “Why don’t I make you up a sampler platter to go? You can try a little bit of everything, see which you favor. Then just call in to the shop and I’ll make sure you get some more out there in Marblehead without having to make the trip in.” She winked and set the platter on the counter, then walked behind it to gather a few white baker’s boxes.

  “You’re the sister-in-law he saved. Dante, I mean. He killed his father to save you,” Grace said.

  It probably wasn’t manly to duck my head behind Gianna’s, but I figured I was overdue for a lapse or two.

  Carly barely hesitated. “You know Dante? Why, of course you do. Mr. Carson mentioned his father was friends with Gio’s father. Giovanni, my husband. Dante’s brother.”

  “Call me Blake,” I said automatically.

  No one was listening, not even Gianna who was now stuffing a fistful of my tie into her surprisingly large mouth.

  I’d managed to save Grace’s perfect knot through a long workday. Unfortunately, I didn’t think the night would survive Gianna Costas’s busy baby teeth.

  “Yes, I just met him at dinner. He saved you,” Grace repeated.

  Efficiently, Carly put together the boxes. “Yes, he did. Their father had me kidnapped and would’ve killed me if not for Dante. Killed both of us, as I was pregnant with Gianna at the time.”

  Grace gasped and glanced at the clearly hungry baby. Either that or my tie just tasted really good. “Her own grandfather tried to kill her?”

  Carly shrugged. “He didn’t know I was pregnant, but still. That’s the way of things in their world.”

  “And you tolerate it?”

  Carly glanced up from her boxes, the first surprise registering on her pretty face. “I love my husband, so of course I tolerate where he comes from. I supported him until he was able to break away, and now we’ve made our own family.” She turned her attention to the platter. “So, four mini eclair-cupcakes it is. What else would you like to try?”

  Grace gripped her throat in her white-knuckled hand and gestured with the other. “We’ll take two of everything there. To go. Please.”

  I glanced at Gianna, who was still chowing down. She had no help to offer.

  No one did.

  Most likely I’d lost a tie tonight, and probably my girlfriend too.

  Nine

  Blake

  She was quiet on the trip home. I didn’t expect otherwise, in light of everything she’d learned about me in a short evening meant for purported “feels” of a romantic nature.

  Feels was a ridiculous word, but Grace used it so I was trying to expand my vocabulary.

  To recap:

  That our date was a cover for a meeting with old mob buddies.

  That I even had old mob buddies.

  Because my father had old mob buddies, which showed a legacy of life on the other side of the law.

  That my father’s mob buddies might be Annabelle and Philomena’s old buddies, and it probably wasn’t a coincidence.

  And one of my favorite ties had threads missing and a giant drool puddle in the middle.

  The bright spot was that we had approximately six boxes of cupcakes. They’d probably fill up my refrigerator. When Grace dumped me and refused to speak to me, I’d be forced to take them to work and leave them shamefully in the break room.

  At least no one would know how utterly incapable I was at the whole romance thing. I wasn’t much better at being a sleuth.

  For fuck’s sake, I was an architect. A builder. Not someone who sat around composing poetry and strumming a guitar to serenade his lady love.

  As soon as we landed and I powered down the helicopter, I turned to her. “Look, I get that you’re angry.”

  She stared resolutely out the windshield.

  “I also get that you have reason to be. I invited you out under false purposes and I had no intention of telling you what they were. The plan was to discreetly slip away from the table and speak to Dante while you were occupied with your meal. Instead he chose his moment, just like his goddamn father.”

  She bent to pick up her purse. And hopped out of the helicopter.

  I stared after her, watching the gold silk of her hair waft around her shoulders in the night wind. She opened the door and went inside without another glance back.

  Shutting my eyes, I tipped back my head. I’d tried to be honest with her. I was starting to learn that no matter what my first inclination was, I couldn’t hold back things from her. Even if I thought it was for her own good. Even if I wasn’t sure what the outcome would be.

  Yet she’d just walked away, right in the middle of me bearing my soul.

  Or revealing the extent of my lies, which probably made up most of my soul at this point anyway.

  Now fucking what?

  I followed her into the building, a half dozen bake
ry boxes in my arms along with my briefcase. I’d struggled with the door, but hell, that was the least of my concerns.

  Grace wasn’t on the executive floor.

  The same panic that had seized me earlier took hold of my chest and gut. For a second, I couldn’t breathe through it. There was just the blinding reality that she could be gone, out there and unprotected. In danger.

  I’d had one fucking job—to keep her safe—and I’d failed. And all I’d needed to do was just be honest with her. To treat her as an equal.

  Swallowing the acrid taste at the back of my throat, I stepped back onto the elevator and rode it to the lobby. I went out to the parking garage, ready to rip the town apart from the steel beams of his building to the concrete supports that held up the streets if necessary. Whatever it took to find her, I would do.

  This time, I wouldn’t let her go.

  I’d tell her the truth—all of it—and I’d beg her to stay.

  I emerged on the level where I’d parked, hoping like hell she’d be standing beside my SUV. Instead she was inside.

  Thank fucking God, she was inside.

  My heart started beating again, faster than before. So fast I had to catch my breath before I began walking again.

  Wait a second. How had she gotten inside?

  I jockeyed boxes and my briefcase to pat my pocket for my keys. They weren’t there.

  Fucking hell.

  I’d unlocked the building and used the elevator via retinal scan so I hadn’t realized she’d picked my pocket. Damn little thief.

  I walked up to the vehicle and arched a brow. She unlocked the doors without looking at me.

  Exhaling, I managed to get the back door open so I could dump the boxes and my briefcase inside. Then I sat behind the wheel and wrapped my fingers around the comfortingly broken-in leather.

  “Were you planning on grand theft auto?”

  “If I was, you wouldn’t be sitting there right now.” She slid the car key on my ring into the ignition, but she didn’t start it. “My ass would be gone.”