Held by a Stranger (BILLIONAIRE BEHAVING BADLY SERIES Book 4)

by Holly Stone

  HELD BY A STRANGER

  BILLIONAIRE BEHAVING BADLY SERIES

  4

  By

  HOLLY STONE

  HELD by a Stranger – Billionaire Behaving Badly Series 4 Copyright © 2015 Holly Stone

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United Kingdom. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Holly Stone (Image from Stockfresh.com by Feedough)

  REBECCA

  When I was a girl, I wasn’t interested in fairy tales. The simplicity of stories that could be wrapped up so neatly with a happy ending just didn’t feel real or attainable to me. I wanted gritty, imperfect tales that left me yearning for what might have been, so I gravitated toward Greek myths, fascinated by the dark natures of many of the characters that made the tales richer and more exciting. In my favourite, Orpheus and Eurydice were so in love that when Eurydice died, Orpheus followed her into the underworld to beg for her return. A fairy tale ending would have shown Orpheus as successful in his mission to rescue his true love. Instead, he failed in his task to walk before Eurydice without looking back, and she was returned to Hades.

  You’d think, with that in mind, that I’d be more accepting of a rough road when it came to love. Even I found it strange that up until Andrew I was searching for perfection in my relationships and trying to live up to the ideal that my parents set as the example.

  A few days after Andrew had left I’d arranged to see my mum and dad for dinner. I must not have looked myself because I caught them glancing at each other with concerned expressions. We managed to get through some very large plates of spaghetti Bolognese with only my mum filling the conversational void. She recounted the ailments and problems of every friend and acquaintance she had before my dad finally interrupted to ask me if I was okay.

  I was close with them but no girl wants to tell her parents about a fling that had soured. I did want their advice though. With a deep breath, I asked them something I’d never asked before; did they just know when they met each other that they were soulmates? It was what I’d always assumed of their relationship. I was stunned when they both laughed.

  “I knew your mum was gorgeous and a great kisser. And she was funny and caring and interesting, but I didn’t know she was the one for me until we’d been together for a while. Relationships take work, Rebecca. You’re not going to find a man and slip into a life with him like a comfy slipper. Marriage is like a new shoe. You’ve got to walk some ground in it before it gets comfortable, and it needs constant attention to keep it roadworthy.”

  My mum smiled at my dad, as if he’d said the nicest thing ever. “Your dad is a very wise man, isn’t he? Why are you asking, Becka? Are you having man troubles?” I cringed but carried on regardless.

  “I don’t know…not really. I just feel I’m at a bit of a cross roads.”

  “And you need to decide which way to go?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, it sounds a bit cliché to say follow your heart so I won’t,” Mum said, looking thoughtful.

  “Hearts are not things that should be listened to,” Dad said. “You need to be listening to your gut, Rebecca. You’re a sensible girl. Trust yourself.”

  “But what if someone’s hurt and doesn’t want to try.”

  “If you think they are worth the effort, you have to show them that you can be trusted with their feelings. It’ll take work but that’s what relationships need, sweetie.” Mum smiled and patted my hand.

  I nodded, thinking about Andrew and his goodbye. It had consisted of a giant apology for hurting me, when in fact it was him who was hurting the most. I didn’t share any of the details with my parents, opting instead to help clear up and make excuses about jet lag and work so I could leave early.

  At home, I finally bit the bullet and called Marnie. I’d avoided it initially, spending nearly a week licking my wounds alone, but telling her everything (minus the really juicy bits that I had to leave out because my face couldn’t stand the blushing) was really cathartic.

  “Is it okay that I’m still processing that he flew all the way to London just to make sure you weren’t upset with him?” she said.

  “I know. It took me a while to accept it too. I just…I thought he was an arrogant arse. When I left Atlanta I was convinced I had him sussed; rich playboy, manipulative and sexually controlling. But over here he wasn’t like that at all.”

  “What was he like then?”

  “I don’t know…kind, and sweet, concerned about my feelings. And vulnerable.”

  “Have you googled him yet? If you haven’t, I think you should.”

  “Why, what does it say?”

  “I’m not going to tell you. Just do it and call me back.”

  “Okay,” I said nervously. “I’ll speak to you in a minute.”

  It took five minutes to fire up my laptop and I was fidgeting the whole time. Marnie’s voice had sounded strange and the anticipation to find out what she knew was overwhelming. His wiki-page practically glowed with accomplishments and details about his wealth. In the featured photo Andrew looked gorgeous; younger and lighter somehow. I stroked over the screen, remembering how those green eyes could sparkle with humour or grow dark with desire.

  It was halfway down that I found what Marnie must have been referring to; information about a scandal that had rocked Black Gold Pharmaceuticals six years before. I shuddered as I read about how Andrew had been duped into revealing the formula for an experimental cancer treatment before it was patent protected. The loss of the new drug was a huge knock to BGP; the share price had plummeted and confidence in Andrew had been badly hit.

  I searched American news websites for more information, and discovered a woman had been involved. There were pictures of her at a charity event with Andrew, her long red hair and model-perfect features made them a striking couple. They’d been engaged when she’d been diagnosed with cancer – a ruse to get him to spill his company’s secrets – and it seemed that Andrew had been frantic enough about her illness to put himself and BGP on the line. It had been a disastrous error of judgement, not so much for the company as it seemed to have bounced back within a few months, but more for Andrew personally. I hurt for him as I imagined the moment he found out that his fiancée was a honey-trap. The humiliation must have been hard to bear and it was obvious he still hadn’t fully recovered.

  I knew what it was like to discover that a person you thought you knew was a liar and a cheat. When you’ve laid yourself on the line and been trampled it’s terrifying to imagine taking that risk again. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to deal with that in the public eye and to have everyone at your company looking at you with pity and maybe anger too. People’s jobs had been at risk because of what happened.

  I called Marnie back and she answered on the first ring.

  “You read about the scandal?” she said.

  “Yeah. I can’t believe anyone could be that mercenary.”

  “She was getting paid, Becka. Drugs like that are worth a fortune over the long term. She was going to be set for life.”

  “I just feel so bad for Andrew,” I said, with an ache in my heart.

  “I know. But he’s a big boy and he’ll
get over it.”

  “He hasn’t yet though, has he?”

  “Maybe he needs a bit of help,” Marnie said cautiously.

  “I know what you’re trying to do.”

  “Do you really think that a man like that meets girls like you every day?”

  “I’ve just spent ten minutes browsing images of him with super models. I know who he meets, Marnie.”

  “I don’t mean that and you know it.”

  “Well, what did you mean?”

  “Look, Becka, you’re a great girl. The best friend a girl could have. You don’t need me to tell you that he’s probably surrounded by women who are after him for what they can take; money, prestige, fame maybe. He’s got epic-sized baggage and trust issues as big as Kilimanjaro. He might be loaded but he’d be a lucky man to have someone as loyal and good hearted as you, babe. And he knows it too. Why else do you think he came to London?”

  I sighed, feeling overwhelmed by what Marnie was saying. I suddenly wished she was with me so I could give her a big, tearful cuddle and tell her I loved her. “I don’t know, Marnie. I mean, I really like him but he’s gone. He couldn’t take it and I don’t know if I can be the one to push.”

  “Why? He did. He made the big gesture. He might have dressed it up as something else – the giant apology, or whatever – but he didn’t want to let you go, babe. Now, if you want him, it’s your turn. And if it doesn’t work out, if his issues are just too big, then you’ve done what you can.”

  “But if it does work out, what the hell will that mean? He’s in Atlanta and I’m in London.”

  “And he has a private jet and a house in Kensington. I’d usually be down on a long distance relationship but it’s not really a standard situation, is it?”

  “I guess not.”

  “What’s your heart saying?” Marnie asked quietly.

  “My dad told me I should ignore my heart and listen to my gut.”

  “Men!” Marnie scoffed. “I tell you what. I’ll toss a coin for you. Heads you forget about Mr. Bossy, tails you reach out. What do you say?”

  “I can’t decide something like this on a coin toss!”

  “Why not?” I heard shuffling in the background. “Right, I’ve got a nice big fifty pence piece here and I’m throwing it, and…oh.”

  “What? What did it land on?” I asked, suddenly desperate to know.

  “Heads, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “I guess that’s it then,” I said, feeling hollow in my chest at the thought.

  “You’re gutted, aren’t you?” Marnie said. “You wanted it to be tails because you want him but you just can’t give yourself permission to feel that way.”

  I sighed, knowing what she said was true. Tails would have given me the green light without me having to take responsibility for the fallout when it all went pear-shaped. “It was really tails,” she said, with a smile in her voice.

  “What?”

  “It was tails but I wanted you to face up to what you really want, honey. This is about you and your willingness to take control of your life. Things aren’t always going to work out but with every stumble we learn to balance a bit better. You’ve got to take a chance, Becka.”

  “You’re an evil cow, you know that!” I said, smiling.

  “Yeah, but you love me.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Buddies rock,” she giggled.

  “More than anything.”

  “And anyway, I’ve seen this amazing handbag that I want you to get me on your next trip to the States.”

  “What am I? Your personal shopper?”

  “Let’s just call it payment for my excellent relationship advice services.”

  “We can do that!”

  “So, what are you going to do then?”

  “Well, I’m back over there on Friday. Rhode Island though.” I still had a ton of work to do to prepare for the meeting.

  “Is that far from Atlanta?”

  “Yeah, but I figure he travelled to London so an internal flight won’t be too much if he really wants to see me.”

  “You’d better get in contact with him then, hadn’t you? Give the poor man some notice to rearrange his diary.”

  “Oh god, am I really going to do this?” I said, the enormity of the decision suddenly filling me with fear. What if he rejected me? Could my bruised heart take it?

  “Yeah, babe, you are. And you know what? It’s going to be fine whatever happens.”

  When I’d hung up the phone, I sat on my sofa with a glass of whisky, holding the liquid in my mouth as I considered what to do next. I could phone Andrew and hope he would accept my call, but I didn’t have the courage to do that. If he sounded annoyed or reluctant to talk, it would make me stumble over my words. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say; that I felt something for him that I didn’t want to put aside, that when he left I’d cried myself to sleep because of how lost he was, and that I wanted to see him again and to hell with his rule. It all sounded like too much in my own mind so it seemed impossible that I might relay those things to Andrew. I thought about sending him something. He had started the whole ‘grand gesture thing’ with the flowers to my hotel room so maybe that would be what got through to him. Somehow, that didn’t seem right either. What the hell do you send to man who could literally buy whatever he wanted? Nothing my budget could stretch to. It was getting late so I called Marnie back to ask what she thought I should do. She suggested emailing him but doing it in a way that left the decision in his court. “Men,” she said, “like to feel like they’re in control, even if they aren’t!”

  So I set up a new email address; whiskyrose@hotmail.com, and I figured out Andrew’s email address by looking at Roger’s, my contact from BGP. Then I sent him a message that I hoped would tell him enough without coming on too strong.

  I had three days until I was flying out to Rhode Island. Three days to prepare what I was going to say to him, if he turned up. And I’d just have to wait and see if he would break his rule again and come to me.

  They were the longest three days of my life!

  ANDREW

  Rules are made to be broken. That’s what her email said. I’d printed it out and taken it home with me so I could re-read it when I was in bed, away from the pressure of work.

  FROM: Whisky Rose

  TO: Andrew Costner

  I’ve heard it said that rules are made to be broken.

  I’ll be in Rhode Island on Friday at the Providence Marriott.

  We broke your rule once.

  I want you to do it again.

  I’ll be there, Andrew.

  Will you?

  Her message was short and to the point but I felt something more behind it. Maybe it was wishful thinking but I remembered the way she’d been the last time we’d fucked. I’d seen emotion in her eyes and heard it in her voice. The way she’d held me close and soothed me; it had been so long since I felt anything but lust and desire in a sexual touch. It’d seemed as though she cared, and it had terrified me.

  But I’d liked it too.

  Her email had left it open to me to decide what happened next. It was encouraging. I read the line that began ‘I want you…’ and shivered. I wanted her so badly it was like a physical ache in my chest. I lay in bed, the darkness all-consuming, and pressed my hand over my heart. I didn’t want to feel the emptiness anymore. I dug my fingers hard into the muscles of my chest, enough to leave crescent-shaped arcs from my nails, and the bite of pain was welcome relief.

  Rebecca’s words circled, ‘I’ll be there Andrew. Will you?’

  I just didn’t know. It wasn’t like getting to Rhode Island would be difficult. I had nothing going on that couldn’t be dismissed by Barbara with an emergency as an excuse.

  I imagined going to Rebecca’s hotel room and seeing her again; her sweet mouth, that silky, long hair that always smelled of vanilla, and the smile in her eyes. I thought about tying her up to the bed and licking at her until she was begging me to let
her come, until I could feel her slipperiness all over my chin and watch it slide down onto the bed beneath. I’d watched her body orgasm and seen the way her pussy fluttered with pleasure. I’d felt it around my cock like a fist squeezing rhythmically; a hot, soft fist.

  Thinking about her had made my cock as hard as an iron bar and I slid my hand from my chest, over my stomach to the pulsing bulge in my shorts, squeezing and tugging at it. He didn’t want my hand though. He wanted Rebecca. I reached into my nightstand and pulled out the pink panties that she’d hurriedly handed to me in the hotel bar. They were sheer and a devilish mix of innocent and brazen. They’d been wet in my palm and it had driven me crazy to think of her so riled up for me. I brought them to my face and inhaled the sweet scent of her, pulling at my cock slowly. I hadn’t lied when I'd told her I liked to smell her when I jacked off. Her scent seemed to kick up my arousal. Maybe it was the pheromones or something. She just smelled so damn good to me. I was close but the pleasure felt hollow, like looking at a picture of a cake and not being able to taste it. I forced myself to think about the first time we had sex because that had been the most impersonal. I didn’t want to orgasm to memories of the tender moments we shared before I left her in London. It seemed like a betrayal somehow. After I came in thick streams against my belly I pulled off my shorts to clean myself up and then forced myself into the shower.

  While I washed, I considered not going to Rhode Island to see Rebecca. It had been hard before her email, knowing I’d left her behind and that she probably hated me for it. Now that she’d confirmed she wanted more, could I really stay in Atlanta and work a normal day knowing she was waiting for me? An image of her sitting in her hotel room, looking at her watch, flooded my mind and it hurt in my chest.

  I didn’t want her to be disappointed or distressed.

  But maybe it was best for both of us to be disappointed now and to hurt less in the long run. I could email her back. Tell her it wasn’t going to work out between us and wish her well. I could run from the first connection I’d felt to a woman in a long time. I could hold to the rule and keep everyone at arm's length and never allow myself to get hurt again.