Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  “That’s right, baby, shout it out,” he urged, his voice savage. “Open your eyes,” he commanded and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re mine. Mine,” he grunted, punctuating each word with greedy thrusts culminating in a vigorous climax.

  “Yes, Nick. Yours,” she cried, quivering as delicious tremors of release rocked her senses.

  Their bodies still joined, he walked her to the bed.

  “Nick,” she whispered when the thrilling aftershocks subsided and she lay beside him in a blissful daze.

  “Hmm?” His voice was a low, sexy rumble in his chest.

  She propped up on her forearms and looked into his sated, heavy-lidded eyes. “Did you mean it when you said we’re going back when we’re done with business here?” She smiled hesitantly and added, “I mean…am I going back with you?”

  “Yes, baby. I’m not letting you out of my sight. I can’t imagine home without you in it.”

  Struck speechless at the certainty in his tone, her heart soared. “Thank you,” she said, when she found her voice.

  “My pleasure…definitely mine,” he murmured, turning her on her side and spooning her. He pressed a kiss on the side of her neck and nuzzled it.

  “Let’s take a hot, leisurely soak in that big tub,” she said after a languorous pause.

  “Rest now, bathe later,” he said, smoothing her curls from her face as he wrapped a heavy arm around her waist and hugged her close.

  “Okay,” she agreed readily, exhilarated at the thought of going back to Starfish Island with Nick. She sighed dreamily and closed her eyes.

  It didn’t get any better than this.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, Nick was all business. By seven he had showered, shaved and was dressed in a starched blue business shirt and tan tailored slacks that drew attention to his powerful physique and presence. Veronique’s face lit up with a proud smile, watching him in action. He was in his element, commanding and forthright while he talked to Fred on the phone in the living room area.

  Giving him privacy to discuss his affairs, she stepped away from the doorway and called room service. Ravenous after their incredible night together, she ordered a potato, mushroom and gruyere omelet with buttered toast for Nick and a Belgian waffle with strawberries for herself. Adding orange juice and champagne for mimosas and a pot of coffee, she hung up and got ready. After the luxurious, hot bath last night, she just needed to get dressed and run her fingers through her hair to give it shape.

  Twenty minutes later, she heard a knock on the door and ran to answer it. “Room service is here,” she crowed on her way to the door.

  The server wheeled in a table covered with a white tablecloth. Two silver domed plates, a carafe of coffee, a bottle of champagne and a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice were arranged around a small bouquet of spring flowers.

  Nick tipped the server and when he left, he lifted each dome and looked inside. “Looks good. Glad you ordered champagne too.”

  Veronique couldn’t contain her joyful smile. She was thrilled to her toes to be having breakfast in a gorgeous suite with the gorgeous man she loved.

  “Will you pour us some mimosas?”

  “Sure,” Nick said, simultaneously pouring the champagne and orange juice into crystal flutes with two hands.

  He handed her a glass, and she raised it to him. “To the CEO of The Cameron Hope Foundation,” she toasted with a warm smile.

  Nick clinked his glass with hers. “And to the best investigative reporter I know.”

  “Aw, thank you. How did your call go with Fred?”

  “It went very well. He’s calling the other board members to meet with each one individually.”

  “I just want everything to be resolved right away. I hate the waiting part.”

  “Me too, baby. Let’s watch the news.” He turned on the TV with the remote control and switched channels until he landed on a national news station.

  They ate with the news in the background on low volume.

  “Yum, this waffle is delicious. I wonder who the chef is now. Teddy knows all the celebrity chefs in South Beach and she was trying to get—”

  “Fuck!” Nick suddenly shouted. He shot up from the table, knocking over his coffee and scaring the living daylights out of Veronique.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, alarmed when she saw his livid face. She nervously blotted the spilled coffee with her cloth napkin as he raised the volume.

  Nick didn’t utter a word. His rapt attention was riveted to the screen.

  Veronique followed his gaze and choked on the bit of waffle in her mouth when she saw Nick’s picture on the screen with a banner across that said, “Breaking News.”

  Listening intently, Nick didn’t move a muscle. His face was a shocked mask of disbelief as the veteran anchorwoman, Carla Kincaid, spoke.

  “Reclusive billionaire Nick Cameron has been living on Starfish Island on the Gulf Coast for the past six months,” Carla said. “We bring you ACE News reporter, Veronique Whitcomb’s first hand report.” She chuckled and shook her head. “And from the likes of it, the hunky corporate raider may soon become an instant heartthrob sensation.”

  The videotape opened with a sweeping panorama of his house and the land surrounding it, then it focused on Nick, bare-chested and chiseled in low rise jeans working in the yard. Close-ups of his face in deep concentration played on the screen as Veronique’s voice narrated, “Hurricane Abby tore apart Nick’s paradise, but that hasn’t deterred him. He’s powerful and unstoppable.” At the end of the segment, the camera zoomed in on the picture of him she’d taken in his closet when he was covered in dusty plaster.

  “Uh oh.” Carla chuckled and turned to her co-anchor. “Looks like there’s going to be trouble in paradise!”

  “Oh no,” Veronique mumbled, her hand going to her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t bear to look—it was unbelievable, strange…and disturbing. Her camera had been in her suitcase the whole time, underneath her clothes. No one had been inside the house but her and Nick. How had this happened? Her stomach constricted into a knot of anguish and her throat went dry. She could barely form words, terrified to meet Nick’s eyes.

  “I’m just as stunned as you are,” she said, her voice strangled.

  “You’re stunned.” He faced her, his eyes blazing with cynicism, the corners of his mouth turned down harshly.

  “Yes. I have no idea how that video was leaked. I never meant anyone to see it but me. And especially not you!” she cried, her whole world crashing down.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, his tone razor-sharp with censure.

  “I’m Ronnie, the girl who loves you,” she said, her heart squeezing painfully. She grabbed his arm. “Don’t look at me that way, Nick. It’s true. I told you I’ve loved you since I was a little girl.” She felt awkward saying it, like she was begging him to love her back, but she had to. Earlier this week, he’d finally told her he trusted her. She couldn’t let that trust be destroyed by an inexplicable turn of events.

  He shook her off and turned away. His body rigid, he stalked to the bedroom.

  “Nick! Please. Listen to me,” she pleaded.

  Ignoring her calls, he threw his belongings into his suitcase and snapped it shut.

  She raced to his side, her heart thudding at harrowing speed as she tried to breathe. She grappled with shallow breaths, gulping air into her tight chest, trying not to hyperventilate.

  She grabbed her purse and pulled out her camera. “Look my camera’s in my purse. It’s never been out of my possession!”

  His eyes, sharp blue glass shards, sliced through her heart with accusation. “You fed it to the press to boost your career. What’s next, the inside scoop?”

  “Stop it! How can you say such a despicable thing?” she asked, devastated he could think so little of her. “Is that what you believe? That I’m a selfish person who’d sell your soul for my gain?”

  “Spare me your lies,” he said fur
iously.

  Scalding indignation rose inside of her, scorching every pore of her body. “I’m innocent, Nick!”

  “You lied when you said you wouldn’t take any more pictures. I should have known not to trust you,” he said scathingly.

  She flinched at his brutal tone. Thick, bitter humiliation clogged her throat as she blinked back burning tears. She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling, but her chin quivered pitifully.

  Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

  She put her hands out in supplication, hoping to reach the Nick she’d been intimate with all week…the Nick she loved. “Nick, please be reasonable. Don’t you remember what it feels like to be falsely accused?”

  His jaw unyielding, his mouth formed a grim line as his eyes turned chillingly somber. “I do remember. Very clearly in fact. I’ve already dealt with one treacherous woman. I won’t deal with another,” he said, his face frozen, his eyes uncompromising. “I’m done.”

  His words tore into her like a thousand daggers, shredding the last of her hope.

  “You can’t mean that,” she pleaded, but her pleas landed on deaf ears as he stalked away.

  “Nick!” she shouted and fell to her knees. Tremors of despair racked her body, rendering her helpless to rise from the floor.

  He walked out and slammed the door behind him.

  Hugging her quaking body, Veronique told herself it was a nightmare and that she’d wake up soon. But it was real and too convoluted for her to figure out.

  She lay huddled on the ground for a long time, unable to get up, unable to even cry, shell-shocked beyond tears and words. Why? How had this happened? They’d been alone in the house the whole time. She’d fallen so deeply in love with Nick, she couldn’t imagine him disposing of her that way. As if she meant nothing to him.

  The scene played itself in her mind over and over again, not making any sense and making her feel more panicked by the moment.

  I’ve already dealt with one treacherous woman. I won’t deal with another. I’m done. Nick’s callous words broke her heart with their awful finality. The look of bitter condemnation in his eyes would remain imprinted in her mind forever.

  Veronique covered her face and toppled over sideways as sobs rose from her chest and tore through her throat. Her tears let loose and poured out of her eyes like a waterfall. She sobbed until she was limp with exhaustion.

  Nick was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nick tipped the valet, threw his suitcase in the car’s trunk and slammed it shut. When he got in the car and turned on the ignition, his sunglasses fogged up from the steam heat trapped inside. Even after being parked in the hotel garage, the interior was hot enough to cook a meal, but it was nothing compared to how steamed he was. His hands shook as he cranked up the air conditioner and aimed the vents at his face, welcoming the cold blast of air on his fevered skin.

  More than anything, I want to restore my reputation as a first class journalist.

  Ronnie had said it a few days ago when he’d asked her what she wanted most in life. He should have processed that with his mind instead of letting his lust take over. She was no longer the pesky tomboy who’d bedeviled him years ago with her antics. She had become an enticing temptress, and he’d been powerless to resist her from the minute she’d come traipsing into his house. All smiles and banter and sparkling emerald eyes, she’d teased and tormented him until he’d given in and taken his pleasure with her fiercely on the beach.

  Her sweet surrender had been his undoing.

  Once he’d gotten a taste of burying himself in her tight, velvety sheath, he hadn’t been the same. She was a sweet, sultry addiction, tormenting him with her honeyed taste, the silkiness of her skin, the lushness of her pert curves. He was insatiable when it came to Ronnie, an animal ensnared by her scent, needing to satiate his cravings as often as he could and even that wasn’t enough. As soon as he was done pleasuring her and wringing out the last drop, he would begin to want her again. Hell, he was hard now just thinking about it.

  She had sunk her seductive claws in him deep enough to scar. How could she have pretended to be someone so sincere and caring? He hadn’t seen Ronnie in fifteen years, and against his better judgment, he’d allowed her to stay, to get under his skin and work her spell on him, robbing him of rational thought. All this time, she’d had a deceitful plan to get a prized story on him. The proof was in the tape she’d made.

  He was a hot mess, but he couldn’t let his dark fury cloud his judgment, especially when Ronnie was in danger because of him.

  Cursing loudly, he got out of the car and headed back to the room.

  * * *

  Veronique raised her head from the living room floor when she heard the door open. Through a thick veil of tears and damp hair, she watched Nick storm into the room.

  She sat up and cried out joyfully, “Nick! You came back!”

  “Get up,” he said briskly, pulling her up beside him. “You’re coming with me.”

  She smoothed her hair back from her tear streaked face and wiped her eyes. “I couldn’t imagine you would be so mean and untrusting. I’m glad you came to your senses,” she said, wondering at his tight grip on her wrist and the merciless glint in his eyes.

  “Not quite. If your life wasn’t at stake, I’d leave you here,” he said, his mouth twisting.

  His words felt like a sharp slap across the face. “Really? Then leave,” she retorted, fuming at his nerve. Thrusting her chin high, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I’m not going with you until you tell me you don’t believe that I sold you out.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” he said darkly, grabbing her arm.

  “Yes, I do,” she said shaking him off. “I’m not some damsel in distress who needs rescuing!”

  “You’re coming with me because you’re not safe here. Plus, I need the information you have in New York for tomorrow’s meeting.” Nick’s jaw ticked dangerously as he opened her suitcase. “Quit arguing and pack your things. Or I will!”

  The next six hours were the longest and most tedious Veronique had ever spent as they drove to the airport, boarded a plane to LaGuardia and hailed a taxi when they got there.

  When she heard Nick give the taxi driver Fred and Maman’s address on the Upper West Side, she leaned forward and told the cabbie, “Please take me to midtown west first. It’s on the corner of Broadway and—”

  He turned to Nick with questioning eyes. “Where do I go first?”

  “Don’t listen to her. We’re going to 74th and Central Park West,” Nick told the driver firmly. He turned to Veronique. “You can’t get off first. I have a crucial meeting with Fred before he meets with the board tomorrow. Visit with your mother while I’m there.”

  The nerve of Nick acting like a despot in front of the cab driver and telling her what to do! Not that she cared what the driver thought. He’d already shown himself to be sexist by ignoring her request.

  She tapped on the driver’s shoulder. “Drop him off first and then take me to Broadway and—”

  “No, lady. I’m going where your husband told me to go,” he replied with infuriating chauvinism. “You two can fight it out there.”

  “Well!” Veronique huffed and flounced to the far side of the car. “For the record, he’s not my husband,” she said with disdain.

  “Damn right I’m not,” Nick said rudely.

  It wasn’t the time or place for arguing, but Veronique wished she could tell him off for treating her like a traitor. He had accused her and convicted her of betraying him without even giving her a chance to figure out what had happened. She looked out of the window in stony silence, acutely aware of Nick’s tightly restrained fury as he sat on the other side checking his email. When the taxi finally arrived at Fred’s apartment, Nick gave him a generous tip and nudged Veronique toward the building where Willie, the elderly doorman who was an institution there, stood at the entrance.

  “Hello, Mr. Cameron. It’s be
en a long time since I’ve seen you round here,” Willie said, smiling broadly. He nodded at Veronique. “Same for you, missy. Do you two know each other?” he asked, glancing at their suitcases.

  “Yes, unfortunately,” Veronique said through tight lips. “Nice to see you, Willie. Would you keep my suitcase here until I come down?”

  “Mine too,” Nick said, rolling his suitcase forward.

  “Sure thing. Have a great day, all,” Willie said, beaming.

  “Thanks,” Nick said, giving him a tip. He placed his hand on the small of Veronique’s back and ushered her to the elevator.

  Veronique moved away as if his touch scalded her. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

  He dropped his hand and entered the elevator after her. Nick’s hardnosed, dominant presence beside her made her want to scream. He was making her wait at her mother’s apartment while he took care of business. It wasn’t fair. She had uncovered the case, done all the legwork and now he was making her play it safe while he got to enjoy all the action. She wanted the satisfaction of seeing Elizabeth stopped and reprehended.

  The overwhelmingly sad taste of loneliness and rejection made her realize she should make the best of this visit with Maman. It was long overdue. She was tired of being estranged from her mother and tired of blaming her for a lot of her childhood angst.

  Nick rapped sharply on the door, startling her from her musings. His face was cold and unreadable, and she could feel his barely restrained contempt for her. It felt so awful to be on the receiving end of his anger that she moaned out loud before she could stop herself.