[Billionaire Shifters Club 01.0] The Billionaire Shifter's Curvy Match

by Diana Seere

  They both knew that wasn’t what he was really asking.

  An overly friendly hand suddenly clapped his shoulder. “Gav! How the hell are you doing?”

  Gavin hated nicknames.

  “Mason,” Gavin said without turning around. Mason Webb. Made his money in Web 1.0 by grabbing up every boring website name you could possibly imagine. Thousands of them. By the time he auctioned off the most popular names, he was sitting on hundreds of millions of dollars.

  New money always reeked of desperation. Right now, Mason reeked of vodka. The man was a lush’s lush, drunk as a skunk most nights at the club.

  On the other hand, he was also a savvy venture capital investor. Mason knew how to sense a trend before it happened and seize on it. That made him valuable in certain business environments, so Gavin worked to maintain a cordial—if arm’s length—relationship with him.

  “You here in town for long? I’d love to do lunch. I’m noticing a strong trend in peer-to-peer lending that could make both our companies some serious cash,” Mason added in a low voice. Gavin’s blood-alcohol level rose just from breathing the man’s air.

  “No. Sorry. Only here for tonight.” Gavin studied the room quietly. No Lilah.

  “Shame. You planning to have that conference again out at your ranch this year? That was one hell of a bash. Made me about twelve million extra after rubbing elbows with the Saudis.” Mason’s eyes were unfocused from booze, but sharp when it came to money.

  “No, actually, I—” Gavin cut himself off. Last year he’d hosted a small conference at the ranch, inviting a few dozen elite business leaders from around the globe. Hotshot biotech Americans, Saudi princes, Japanese mobile tech gods—you name it. The conference had been less about information transfer and more about pure networking. Four days of seclusion on the ranch with nothing but food, alcohol and outdoor entertainment had gained LupiNex a reputation as a thought leader in business.

  And Mason was giving him the perfect, perfect plan.

  “You know, Mason, you got me there,” he said, picking up the man’s speech cadence. “It’s a secret, but yes. We’re planning right now.”

  “I hope I’m on the invitation list,” Mason said with a whisper.

  “Of course,” Gavin said, a woman with blonde hair catching his eye. Distracted, he missed half of Mason’s next words as his brain picked the woman apart and realized it wasn’t Lilah.

  “—hot pieces of ass around here.”

  “Hmm,” Gavin said politely, having no idea how on earth the conversation had veered to ass. “If you’ll excuse me, Mason, I have to talk to Eva.”

  “Special services to request?” Mason asked with a shoulder nudge.

  “Something like that.” Gavin spotted Eva and walked over to her.

  “Gavin! What a lovely surprise.” She reached up for a polite embrace, planting an air kiss on each cheek. “What can we do for you tonight?”

  “Is she here?” he asked. No need for pretense.

  Eva’s eyes flickered with amusement. “No. Her night off.”

  Damn.

  But now he had a plan, thanks to drunk Mason Webb. “I’d like to talk with you about managing another conference at my family’s ranch.”

  Eva’s eyes lit up. “That was quite a success.” The club had received an extraordinary rush of applications following Gavin’s conference, which made the wait jump to thirteen years.

  “Indeed. I’ll need staff from the club to come to the compound, of course, and begin preparations.”

  Her eyebrow quirked. “I see. And I assume you would like to handpick the staff?”

  He smiled. “Carl is a skilled bartender. Your entire catering division should be dispatched as well. And we’ll need capable, professional servers.”

  “Like Ms. Murphy?”

  “She’ll do.”

  Eva dipped her head in deference, but her smile remained saucy. “I’m sure she’ll perform in ways that you will find quite pleasing. I will contact your office staff and begin logistics.”

  And with that, Gavin gave her a quick nod and turned on his heel.

  Plan engaged.

  After three weeks at the club, Lilah was starting to relax and believe it just might last. When she’d been paid, she had a resurgence of this is too good to be true and thought any moment Eva or one of the security guys at the club would show up and ask for the money back. It was a lot to get paid for waitressing. A lot.

  But nobody showed up except for the mail carrier with the bills, so she started to think about the future.

  There were still plenty of debts, both from daily life and from school, that would take months for her to pay off. She dreamed about getting her and Jess a nicer place to live—and to support the both of them while her sister finished school—but their mother would have to come first. She had to get the hip operation and would need help around the house, and the fees involved for that help were depressing. Home health care aides, grocery shoppers, gardeners—Lilah couldn’t pay for it all, even now. She and Jess could take the bus on their days off, but it wouldn’t be enough.

  She’d almost felt too worried about the continuing money pressures to take Molly up on that trip to the movies, but she’d promised, so last night she’d treated them both to the latest chick flick. And even bought the biggest popcorn and two drinks. Molly really was something, spotting the cutest men in the theater within seconds, flirting with the guy who handed them their sodas. She certainly had a way about her. Men seemed as enchanted with her as she was with them.

  “Well, that was awkward,” Molly had said as they took their seats.

  “What was?” Lilah hadn’t noticed anything.

  “Popcorn guy. Slept with him six months ago. He’s an undergrad at BU. When I found out how young he was, I ran out of his apartment half-naked.”

  Lilah had choked on her popcorn.

  “It’s OK, he was eighteen. Totally legal.” Molly had sipped her drink. “And it wasn’t like we’d done it at his parents’ house. But I’m almost twenty-six. I can’t keep living this way.”

  “I thought you enjoyed”—Lilah paused, not wanting to call her a slut, the way she’d called herself—“living life to the fullest.”

  “I am. I thought I was, anyway. But sometimes I think it’s not as full as it could be, you know? There’s more to life than sex.”

  Lilah had agreed. It was a good message to hear. They’d fallen into silence and watched the romantic movie that was entirely, absurdly unrealistic. Neither one of them minded it one bit, however, and walked out of the theater with plans to do it again soon.

  Now, the next afternoon, Lilah kept thinking about how Molly had been right. There was more to life than sex. Getting obsessed with a gorgeous billionaire who’d taken a temporary fancy to her was stupid. Having sex with him could cost her a good job, screw up her life, and hurt her mother and sister. He’d move on, and she’d be left with the mess.

  Real life wasn’t like the movies. With a sigh, Lilah hefted her old army surplus duffel bag over her shoulder and tromped down the apartment building stairs to the street. Jess was out walking Smoky. For Lilah, it was laundry day.

  The building’s laundry room had a washing machine that smeared gray sludge over the clothes and a dryer that was as effective as a damp closet, so she had to make the trek to the Laundromat six blocks away. Her fantasies of moving into a condo with indoor laundry were vivid but impractical. Now she’d be happy with an apartment building with a coin-op washer that didn’t smell like dead people.

  She tripped over the bottom stair, dislodging the bag from her shoulder and nearly falling on the broken asbestos tile at the entrance. When she regained her balance, she looked up to find Gavin Stanton standing in front of his parked limousine, staring directly at her through the security gate.

  Her gorgeous billionaire. Her dangerous fantasy.

  Her temple throbbed. Oh, baby, you came back, she thought.

  Of course I did.

  Mouth dry, n
ot stopping to think about how she could hear him in her head, she fumbled with the dead bolts and the double doors and dragged her laundry out onto the street.

  “Lilah,” he said, reaching for her.

  Her practicality swelled in her chest like indigestion. She barely knew him. He was a member of the club. They couldn’t get involved.

  “Mr. Stanton.” She lifted the bag over one shoulder and turned to the right.

  “What is in this thing?” Before she could stop him, he’d plucked the bag off her shoulder as if it were weightless.

  “Give it back. Please.” She held out a hand, trying to look dignified as she waited.

  His nostrils flared. “Ah. Your clothing.” He smiled.

  “Yeah, and I need to get to the Laundromat before it gets too late and all the machines are taken.”

  His eyebrows drew together sharply. “Isn’t this your day off?”

  “Yeah, but it’s the maid’s day off too,” she said. “And my clothes aren’t going to wash themselves.”

  His frown melted. “Exactly. Manny will take care of it.” He flung the giant duffel to his driver, who caught it with one hand, strode to the back, and dropped it in the trunk.

  “Hey! Those are my clothes!”

  “And they’ll be laundered before we return from lunch.”

  “But we can’t have lunch. We’re—”

  “There is no term of your employment contract that says you cannot have lunch with me.” He held out an elbow. “In fact, as of this moment, you’re on the clock. We have business to discuss.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “What kind of clock and what kind of business?”

  “Eva knows I’m here, Lilah,” he said with a smile that made her toes curl. “The Platinum Club will be helping me host a conference at my ranch. That means bartenders, valets, waiters, and waitresses.”

  “That conference is yours?” Eva had told her about it. Just not whose.

  He nodded.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She’d already agreed to go. Enthusiastically. Seeing Montana was a dream of hers. The farthest west she’d ever been was Chicago for a school trip in high school.

  “Why me?” she asked.

  “Not just you,” he said. He took her hand and placed it on his arm, leading her to the limo. The feel of his fingers on her skin raised goose bumps. “But I certainly want the best waitress to be included.”

  “I’m not—”

  His mouth came down on hers for a quick, devastating kiss. He drew back just an inch, pinning her with his gaze. “Yes, you are. You definitely are.” His voice was like gravel.

  And then Manny was there opening the door, and after an infinitesimal pause, her head spinning, she climbed in.

  “Only because you’re doing my laundry,” she said.

  “Manny is doing your laundry.” He sat next to her and reached for a bottle. “I noticed you liked the California wines, but there’s nothing quite like French, is there?” While he poured, she read the label and nearly choked.

  “That’s six hundred dollars a bottle,” she said.

  “Not when I bought it.” He held out the glass.

  What the hell. She took it and brought it to her lips. “I’m not on the clock. I don’t care what you told Eva, this is personal time.”

  Eyes crinkling, he leaned back against the seat and brushed one long finger along her thigh. “I’m so glad to hear it.”

  Chapter 10

  The restaurant was one she’d heard of but never expected to visit herself. Until she’d been hired at the Platinum Club, she would’ve assumed that even working at Ellipses would have been unrealistic. The waitstaff had degrees from the finest culinary academies. Even the people bussing tables had college degrees. And the people in the kitchen were hosts of reality television shows, magazine writers, nutritional gurus with bestselling cookbooks—a different one every night.

  These celebrity chefs and their team were visible at all times, cooking in the vast open kitchen in the middle of the warehouse floor like theatre in the round. Cameras followed them, recording an episode for the website or TV station, broadcasting in real time on giant screens hovering around the room.

  Gavin took one look around and scowled. “This is not what I expected. I’ll take you somewhere else.”

  “I’ve always been curious about this place,” she said.

  “You have?”

  “It’s genius. The food, the service, the merchandising, the show business...” She nodded at the table closest to the door, where a man in a chef’s uniform was bowing next to a beautiful woman in her seventies, presenting a bouquet of greens. The woman looked them over, nodded, and he retreated to the kitchen.

  “If you like it, we’ll stay,” he conceded.

  Being in a noisy, crowded restaurant was just what she needed to distract her from the feel, smell, and taste of his body. If she was going to have to work with him on an event, she’d have to get used to controlling her feelings.

  “I like it.”

  He waved a finger, and in moments a man in black sat them at a corner table. She knew Gavin had to be rich, but the way the waiter deferred to him surprised her. He seemed to have never been there before yet was well known. Water goblets appeared instantly. A basket of bread, a plate of olive oil. A dish of salted pecans.

  “May I get you something from the bar?” the waiter asked her, ducking his head.

  “Iced tea,” she said.

  “Wonderful,” he replied, gesturing to a woman who hurried over with a pitcher and another glass.

  “Meyer lemon?” the waitress asked, extending a bowl of sliced fruit.

  “Please,” Lilah replied. “Thank you.” She wanted to delay the moment she was alone with the man who spoke in her mind and kissed her soul. Her nipples had been erect since the moment she’d seen him outside her apartment.

  The menus were on digital tablets. They selected what they wanted and waited for the food to arrive.

  “It’s fun, don’t you think?” she asked Gavin.

  He rested his chin on his hand and gazed into her eyes. “Very fun.” His voice, low and aristocratic, sent shivers down her back. What was it about British accents that made her so instantly aroused?

  “They seem to know you,” she said.

  He looked down at her hands, removed the glass, and captured her fingers in his. “You seem to know me, too.” His thumb slipped between their hands, stroking her palm. “And I you. Had you noticed?”

  “Of course I noticed,” she whispered, heart pounding.

  They sat in silence, holding hands, the world falling away.

  “I came back for you,” he said.

  Oh, oh, oh. Heat rushed through her veins. She tried to free her hands, but he tightened his grip. “Eva told me if I sleep with a member of the club, I’m fired.”

  “An empty threat.”

  “It’s not your neck on the line,” she said. Or paycheck.

  “No.” He lifted her hand to his lips. She felt his warm breath on her knuckles. “It’s my heart.”

  If she hadn’t already been sitting down, her knees would’ve buckled. God help me. She had to at least try to resist his smooth talk. But no words would come.

  “It’s strange,” he continued. “Until you, I didn’t know I had a heart. My passion was for business. Science. My employees. Helping to manage my family’s estate.”

  If she could get him to talk about his career, she might be able to start breathing again. “You’re in biotech, I heard.”

  He nodded, kissing her knuckles. “I have a business I’ve worked hard to build,” he said. “But none of that is as important as it used to be.”

  “Oh? Since when?” She was afraid to hear him say it, more afraid he wouldn’t.

  “Since I met you.”

  The salad arrived, forcing their hands apart. Trembling, Lilah grabbed her fork and stabbed the radicchio.

  “They’ve got terrible timing,” he mumbled under his breath, picking up his
own fork.

  Seeing this flash of boyish vulnerability, she relaxed, smiling around a mouthful of greens. “It’s great. I was starving.”

  “Is Eva not paying you enough to buy what you need?”

  “Not literally starving,” she said, laughing. “Don’t worry.”

  “I do worry about you, Lilah.”

  It didn’t seem like a come-on. Just the truth. She studied the curve of his brow, the faint lines of his face, wondering how old he was, how long he’d lived in America, if he felt the same magnetic familiarity when he looked into her eyes as she felt when she looked into his.

  “I worry about you too, Gavin,” she said softly.

  His eyes darted to hers, questioning, hopeful. And then he reached for his wine, suddenly looking uncomfortable, and when she saw the blush rising in his cheeks, she knew she was falling in love.

  Perhaps he had made a grave error.

  Vulnerability like this came at a price, and his price appeared to be the rapidly beating heart that tried to crawl out of his chest and embed itself in Lilah’s soul.

  This loud, open restaurant was not what he wanted, but it pleased her, and so it pleased him too. She looked lovely, her wide, warm eyes taking him in. Studying him. Really seeing him.

  “I’m hardly someone to worry about,” he replied, clearing his throat. She was looking at him with expectation and he had to say something other than I want to spend the rest of my life buried in you.

  He thought she would laugh at his response, but instead her eyebrows drew in, her eyes soft with concern.

  “You’re human too, Gavin.”

  Well, partly.

  “And you seem to work so hard,” she continued. “You’re so intense. And this connection—whatever you call it—between us makes me feel something for you that sets me on alert. It makes me.... ” Lilah clearly struggled for clarity. Gavin understood.

  “It makes you feel as if you have something to lose.” He stroked the soft web of skin between her thumb and index finger, and she blinked rapidly, eyes darting away.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Me too. If you need to worry about me, Lilah, then worry about how I crave you the moment I awake. The feeling follows me all day, a relentless pounding like a—”