The Billionaire's Betrayal (Highest Bidder Book 3)

by Carmen Falcone

  “Very well. Let me show you to your room. Jerry will bring your suitcase soon.” He showed her up the stairs, and she started climbing. Each step she took, he got a better view of her delectable ass. Hhhmmm… His cock strained in his pants and he swallowed, willing the damn thing down.

  When they reached the second floor, she turned to him. “Left or right?”

  “Right,” he said, pointing to the last room in the hallway, conveniently located next to his. Maybe he should have placed her far from him, but having her close would give him the upper hand.

  She opened the door, beating him to it, and walked inside, studying the surroundings. She glanced at the nicely adorned king-size bed, the dark oak nightstands and the Georgia O’Keefe picture hanging on the wall. He’d also asked Gina to put fresh flowers in the room.

  “Nice.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  She turned to him. “I only need to work. That’s what I’m here for.”

  He erased the distance between them, captured by the uncertainty glinting in her eyes. Her beauty stole the air from his lungs, and he couldn’t pinpoint what part of her drew him in more. What made his fingertips itch with need to touch her, to shorten the small gap between them and take her in his arms.

  “Of course. That’s what you’re here for,” he said, unable to keep the mocking tone from his voice. She obviously was in as much denial as him. No matter how much he rationalized about his end goal, his attraction to her only intensified each minute.

  …

  “How far are we?” Alexa asked, crossing her leg over the other. They’d been in his black pickup truck for the past several minutes, but his property stretched out for miles.

  She’d eaten lunch with him and had met his charming housekeeper, Gina. The woman seemed to have a particular interest in her, but Alexa remained professional and measured her words. This wasn’t a social visit, and everyone should keep that in mind.

  Especially me. She stole a glance his way, hoping he couldn’t see her eyes with the oversize sunglasses she had on. Seeing him in his natural habitat sent a shot of lust through her veins. This was where he belonged—a massive man driving a ridiculously large truck, in the wide-open green spaces of his lush land. Her nipples tightened, and she imagined horseback riding with him, sharing the same saddle. The image raised her temperature a notch, and she reached for the bottle of water in the console.

  “We’re close,” he said.

  So am I. “Good,” she said curtly, aware of her prickly behavior.

  During the last several years, she’d been around plenty of powerful men—some dashingly handsome. Some not so handsome, but smart or funny. Yet, she’d never felt as compelled to throw caution to the wind as she did with Brooks. Not that she’d let him get close to her again—the make-out session in her office had been a mistake. A sexy, delicious mistake. She drank another gulp of water.

  After she’d left Florida, and with it the most hurtful part of her childhood, she’d dated a few guys—the pragmatic part of her needed to experience relationships to make the conscious decision about avoiding them later. But none had ever made her feel like Brooks, so sexually aware and easily aroused.

  “Are you here a lot?” she asked, looking out the window. He’d pointed out some impressive horses as well as the barn and employees’ quarters not far from the main home. She’d seen cattle, but not in great quantity, and assumed this wasn’t a cattle farm like the ones she’d read about located in the Texan panhandle. This felt more like…home.

  “Yeah. It’s where I live when I’m not checking on properties across the state or traveling for meetings.”

  “Nice,” she said, threading her fingers. According to what she’d read about him online, Brooks had been born into a privileged and traditional Texan family. The quintessential old money. But he’d been smart and multiplied his investments in the rural world, especially with cattle, quickly becoming the most successful member of his family.

  “Where’s home to you?” He made a left turn.

  She tugged her ear. Nowhere. A nostalgia she had gotten used to welled inside her, clogging her throat. She swallowed twice before answering, “I live in Nevada.”

  “Yes, but where are you from?”

  “I’ve lived in a few states.” She gave him her standard answer. Why complicate things? He wanted small talk, but that didn’t mean she wanted to provide a podcast episode of her life.

  He shook his head. “It’s easier to get secret intel from a die-hard terrorist than basic information from you.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never questioned a terrorist,” she said, and stared at him, the fire in her belly brewing from the exchange. He smiled, an easy, sexy smile that skittered her pulse. She shifted in her seat, partly mad at herself for being so interested in him and partly curious.

  He parked the truck in front of a big red barn. “One of the guys I have in mind is Logan. He works at the farm and wants to go to college. He just turned eighteen. Very good kid.”

  “Have you approached him with the idea?”

  He removed his black sunglasses. “No, that’s why you’re here. To work your magic.”

  She removed her seat belt. “Before even offering this opportunity to him or anyone else, I’d like to talk to him and get a feel for him.” A male auctionee was a new venture, but she had enough experience in the auction department to know they couldn’t simply say too much at first. She didn’t want a future prospect to become too eager to be selected and end up fooling them into picking him.

  He kicked a few bits of gravel out of the way. “You’re assuming he’ll say yes if you offer the position.”

  She lifted her chin. Of course she didn’t envision a lot of struggle from a young man when offered a huge amount of money to sleep with an eager woman. Maybe I’ve become more cynical than normal. “Yes. Trust me, that amount of money is life changing. Everyone has a price.”

  He touched her cheek with his index finger, tracing her skin and sending little shivers down her spine. “But not you. I heard many have tried.” Defiance glinted in his eyes, carrying a promise she shouldn’t dare to understand.

  She stepped back, breaking the contact, her insides still in turmoil. “But no one has succeeded.”

  “That’s interesting. You’ve never, hmmm, sold your goods?” he asked, looking down at her as if they were completely alone in a dimly lit room, and not standing in front of a barn in broad daylight.

  She sucked in a breath and spoke through her teeth. She couldn’t count on her fingers how many men had offered money to fuck her—even when she’d been a scared teenager, running from home. “No.”

  He angled closer, and a dark shadow took over his expression. “Why not? I mean if you’re so nonchalant about it.” He said it evenly, but she detected a slight criticism in his tone.

  “I don’t see why this matters,” she said, her voice shakier than she intended. Hell, she’d paid her own price for not sleeping with men for money. She’d been hungry and homeless for weeks until an old lady took her in for a couple of months and let her stay in her house in exchange for some company and cleaning.

  “We’re partners now. I need to know some of your core values.”

  She squared her shoulders. Core values? Did he want her to join a conservative community or make them both money by choosing the right auctionee? Annoyance pinched her, and she flashed him a dismissive glance she hoped put him in his place. “We’re temporary business partners.”

  He nudged her elbow, and she quickly withdrew. Didn’t the man have any notion about personal space? Her flesh seared where his fingers had brushed, and she cleared her dry throat. “Which is why you should trust me.”

  “Which is why the reason I don’t sleep with men for money doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “Now, don’t be so defensive like a frog cornered by a rattle
snake. If you asked me the same question, I wouldn’t be offended.”

  She suppressed a chuckle, the idea of this mega rich man charging for sex utterly ridiculous. “Fine. What’s your price, Mr. Taylor?”

  “At least five hundred thousand,” he said without hesitation.

  “For a month?”

  He winked. “For a night.”

  She laughed, ignoring the shiver zapping down her spine. If she wasn’t planning on saving for an early retirement from the virgin auctions, she’d spend that money on a man like him. “Your ego is as big as your ranch.”

  “That’s not the only big thing at stake.”

  A wave of heat flooded her cheeks. She could tell, when they’d kissed, and she’d felt his massive hard-on against her. “I’m glad you know how to brand yourself. Big ego, big cock. A rare breed these days,” she said, sarcasm lacing her voice. “True original.”

  He touched his heart, making a sad face, like her words had wounded him beyond repair. “That’s why we need to talk more about personal things, Madam. Because you’re so good at putting me in my place.”

  She swallowed. As long as I remember your place is far away from me.

  Chapter Three

  “And that’s what I do around here,” Logan said, sliding his hand down his horse’s lustrous mane.

  Brooks straightened his shoulders. For the past half hour, he’d let Alexa speak with the blond young man and act like she was Brooks’s friend from out of town visiting his ranch. He didn’t interfere much, watching how she talked to Logan with ease, asking him about the ranch and throwing in a couple of personal questions for good measure.

  “So fascinating,” Alexa said, smiling yet again at Logan.

  Annoyance coated his throat, and he cleared it. Twice. Did she need to sound so convincing?

  He drummed his fingers on his leather belt, impatiently. Though watching her wasn’t necessarily a sacrifice. Sharing Alexa, though, was a different story. He had to give her something—even though a part of him doubted a young buck like Logan would actually go through with the auction idea, he had to show her he was serious in order to keep her close.

  A damn hard task.

  “If you want, I reckon I can take you horseback riding tomorrow,” Logan said, running his fingers through his hair. “Show you around.”

  “What a great idea,” Alexa said.

  Brooks popped his knuckles to keep from clocking an eighteen-year-old into next week. “We’ll all go.” A wave of heat moved through him, making it impossible to stand still.

  Logan looked at him and nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. If you excuse me, I’ll go feed the horses,” he said, disappearing into the barn.

  Alexa stepped closer, hands perched at her waist. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re partners. If you want to veto, that’s fine. But if you take off with my potential virgin and who knows, maybe pop his cherry yourself, then I have nothing,” he said, the mere idea of her getting naked with Logan or anyone else heating his blood. He’d heard through the grapevine Logan had never dated, which made him a good candidate. The image of Logan with Alexa, though, clawed its way through his brain, twisting inside his head.

  “I’d never do such a thing. You obviously don’t know my work ethics.”

  “I wouldn’t, because you don’t say jack shit about them,” he said, frustrated. How was he supposed to get to know her better if she kept her walls up all the time?

  “Well, ask.” She lifted her hand. “Work stuff only.”

  This is my chance. He stared at her square in the eye, eager to capture the real emotion behind those intriguing blue eyes. “Have any of your auction deals ever ended badly?”

  “Mostly, no. My girls go through a very selective process to be approved. I want to make sure they know what they’re signing up for, and if they really want it.”

  “Has anyone ever changed their mind at the last minute?” Could that have been Pamela’s case? She’d tried to back off and it’d been too late? Fear thickened his throat, forming a pulsing knot. He’d played so many possibilities in his head, and now, he didn’t know what he feared most—discovering the truth about Pamela or the truth about Alexa. Not the bullshit she fed him, but the harsh, cold truth.

  “Yes, a few times. Fortunately, I always have an alternate ready to go.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to slap a neutral expression on his face. “Have you ever been threatened or had to use force to keep someone in line?” he asked casually, hiding the eagerness behind every word.

  Her body went rigid, and she turned it at an angle as if she wanted to block him from view. “What? I’d never use force to keep anyone in line. Mr. Taylor, I offer a service. Strippers sell their body, so do sex workers. And neither of them make close to the kind of money that a virgin will under my expertise.”

  “What about competitors? Anyone I should know about? Since we’re launching a new edition of your auction, do you foresee some angry opponent breathing down our necks?” he said, choosing to add his link to their venture to smooth out his questions.

  She touched her neck, and he didn’t miss the small scar disappearing into her shirt. What did it mean? It looked like it’d been there for a while.

  He pointed to it, lifting his chin. “What about this scar?”

  She stepped back, looking away. “That question isn’t work related.”

  “What happened?”

  “Life happened. A son of a bitch happened. Long time ago. But I dealt with it,” she said, her eyes darkening to a piercing cobalt. Specks of silver flashed in her irises with the coldness of cut diamonds.

  He swallowed. A strange sensation traveled through him, the type of agony a child felt upon losing a favorite pet. Someone had hurt her, had branded her in the worst way possible, and he wasn’t talking just about her skin. Could whoever the jerk was that had abused her also removed her faith in love?

  Perhaps her doing what she did in and of itself made it hard to build committed relationships. He bet her occupation intimidated some men, and perhaps attracted the wrong ones.

  Why do I care? He curled his fingers into a ball, and he wished he could punch some sense into himself. Was he falling under her spell? He’d seen her with Logan. Quickly, Logan had been smitten by her beauty, by the attention she’d given him.

  Am I acting the same way? Believing her bullshit? A breeze caressed her hair, messing with the tips, and she softened a bit, her facial expression relaxing. Her attraction to him wasn’t fake. Couldn’t be.

  He lifted his hand to touch her neck, tracing her scar. The main vein on her neck jumped, but she didn’t retreat. “Wish I could punch the bastard.”

  A coy smile formed on her lips, like she didn’t know if he was giving her a compliment or just being nice. “I’ve learned to take care of myself.”

  He opened his mouth, but hesitated. Saying something cliché like she’d done such a great job didn’t seem genuine, particularly when he was low-key investigating her for information. A guilt that had no business existing contracted his stomach. What did he expect? To completely hate her during the entire time they spent together? That would make things so much easier. “We should get going. We have a couple more potential auctionees to scout.”

  Hours later, Brooks ran his fingers through his damp hair. After a successful meet-and-greet with a couple other young men who could maybe fit the bill, they’d returned to his home. He’d gone to shower while Gina set the table for dinner.

  Now, wearing jeans and a white shirt, he went down the stairs to find Alexa looking at his family pictures on the console table in the formal dining room.

  “This is a big table,” she said, pointing at the dark oak wooden table. “Do you entertain a lot?”

  “I have friends over often, yes,” he said. Though he’d withdrawn somewhat after learning of Pamela’s p
assing, he still had a couple of buddies he could call for a beer or two. Guys he’d known for a long time and, unlike the business types who always wanted something from him, treated him like one of them.

  “Gina is gone for the day. She asked me to let you know,” Alexa said. “She left everything ready.”

  She gestured at the nicely put together table with plates set next to each other and candles beside a small vase of flowers. Hmm. His housekeeper couldn’t have been more obvious, but if that helped him get closer to Alexa, he’d take it.

  “How can I help?” she asked.

  “Just stay there and look pretty. I’ll grab some wine and check the food in the oven.” He’d instructed Gina to prepare dinner for them. He could’ve taken Alexa out, but he figured an intimate evening would be best.

  “I’m not good at just looking pretty,” she said, following him into the kitchen.

  During the next few moments, they worked alongside in a blissful harmony of a couple who had done this before. He fetched a nice bottle of red wine, and she helped him take the serving dishes to the table. The smell of Gina’s fried chicken filled the air, along with the salad and a variety of sides, including collard greens, cornbread, and gravy.

  “I should have asked if you have any dietary restrictions,” he said when they finally sat down and began serving themselves. “Gina wanted to give you a taste of southern cuisine on your first night.”

  She grabbed a piece of cornbread. “Restrictions? Are you telling me I should watch my figure and stay clear from this deliciously fattening banquet?”

  “Not at all. Though most women I’ve dated would rather eat poison than fried food.”

  “How unfortunate.” She finished making her plate and flattened the linen napkin on her lap.

  Yes, how unfortunate indeed. What would it be like to date an intriguing woman like Alexa? Not that he was interested. He preferred his women without any ties to virgin auctions. He took a sip of his wine and rocked back in his chair, watching her eat. The easiness from earlier dissipated, and tension thickened in the air with each passing second. He told himself to eat, and managed a few bites, but not stealing glances at her proved too hard.