In Bed with the Devil: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Tia Siren

  "What?" he asked, nearly spraying the mouthful of coffee he had taken. "One week?"

  "Yeah. A bit rushed I know."

  "Well, that's the understatement of the day. I mean, rushed is when you don't do your hair before leaving your apartment in the morning. Rushed is forgetting to put a tie on. This is something else."

  "I just have to get out," I said with a sigh. "Every day I go in there, I feel my soul being sucked out."

  "Is it Kate?" he asked cautiously. "Is she the reason for this?"

  "To a degree, yes. I'd be lying if I said the hospital didn't remind me of her, and every time I went to work, a piece of her seemed to be there. But it's more than that. I just need to get out. I need to change my life. I thought that Kate was going to be that change, but she wasn't. No, I need something else.

  "Well, congratulations, I suppose," Clint said, raising his mug in the air. "May all your future endeavors come to pass and blah blah blah."

  "Thanks," I said chuckling.

  "And where are you going exactly?" he asked.

  "To that, I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. "I'm going to take a few months off and think about it. But somewhere out of the country. Away from it all. It's going to be a fresh start, and I think I need it."

  The words felt right coming out of my mouth, and I smiled.

  "Careful, you've been smiling a lot lately, and it's starting to get on my nerves–hey!" Clint cut himself off as he looked over my shoulder to yell to the man sitting at the nearest table. "Can I grab that paper, if you're done?"

  The man looked a bit taken aback at first but then nodded, handing Clint his discarded newspaper.

  "Thank you," Clint said as he grabbed for the paper. "I put a little money on Sunday Dancer, and I wanted to see how she went," he muttered as he opened the paper in front of me.

  The second he opened the paper I saw it, and just like that, my whole world came tumbling down. On the front page, in the bottom corner, was a photo of Kate. "What the fuck?" I snatched the paper from Clint.

  "Hey!" he said as the paper was torn from his hands. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Look," I said, folding the paper and putting it on the table so we could both see. "It's Kate. What is she doing in the paper?"

  I skimmed the article. And then read it again, taking in every word. The photo was of her, holding up a book. The article claimed that she had recently released a book that was fast becoming a best seller. The book was called Forget Me Not. It was a romance thriller that involved a woman who was suffering from amnesia. I couldn't believe it.

  "Well that's funny," Clint said, more to himself than anyone. "Maybe you should ask for royalties?"

  I shot him a “that's not funny look,” before going back to the article and reading it for the third time. "She's having a book signing," I said. "Today."

  "And?"

  I was torn. Obviously, I was nothing but happy for her. More than that even. I was ecstatic. No one deserved it more than her, and the fact that she had managed to make something of herself with her writing was all that I could have hoped for her.

  It was because of that success that I desperately wanted to congratulate her. I had always told her that if she put her mind to it, she would be a success. Now that she was, all I wanted to do was hug her and tell her how proud I was. But I couldn't. Or at least I shouldn't.

  But as I looked down at the photo and at the address for the book signing, a part of me wondered if it would be so bad for me to go down there and tell her myself. It didn't have to be anything weird, just a “hello” and “well done.” Would it really be that weird?

  "Hello," Clint was saying. "Earth to Liam." But I wasn't listening. I was locked on that photo as I tried to decide what to do. There was no right answer, though. I would have to rely on my gut and hope that whatever I ended up doing was the right decision.

  CHAPTER 28

  KATE

  I couldn't believe how busy the bookstore was. And not just that it was busy, but that they were all here to see me. It was the first official release of my new book, and as such, I was doing a book signing.

  When my publicist told me she had organized one, I thought it was ridiculous. I mean, who would want to come and see me just to get their book signed? That kind of thing was for celebrities. But, as my publicist assured me, people would come. And not only would they come, but they would love me. She had been proven right on the first fact. I was still yet to see if she was right on the second.

  But even if they didn't love me the way that she claimed they would, I was still floored that anyone would turn up to have their book signed. I didn't get into writing for any sort of fame, but because I loved writing. I was just so glad that it was paying off.

  My book, Forget Me Not, was probably the easiest thing I had ever written. After Liana had suggested that I use my amnesia experience to write a book, I soon came up with an idea that was so good, I couldn't believe that I hadn't thought of it before.

  Gleaned from my own experience, it was about a woman that wakes up from amnesia and soon falls for a handsome young man. Little does she realize that the man she has fallen for used to stalk her after they’d dated briefly in college. As their romance escalated, he did all he could to stop her from learning the truth. When she finally finds out that truth, things do not go well for the young heroine.

  I wrote the entire story in a matter of weeks. Seriously, I just couldn't stop the words from coming. As soon as I had a basic idea of the story, I just wrote and wrote and wrote. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Obviously, the fact that I had amnesia helped a lot, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't use Liam as a slight influence, albeit not too much.

  The only hard thing about writing the book was that it constantly brought back bad memories. Every day, I had to sit down and think about my time with Liam. I had to draw from those memories to try and paint a realistic picture for my story. And every time I did, it hurt. The first few days were the hardest. But over time, the pain eventually softened until it became more of a therapeutic exercise than anything else.

  But the good news was that it worked. I sent the book to a publisher. They responded to it immediately, and the rest was history. I'd been able to move to a new apartment, pay off debts, and was even able to sign a new deal that would allow for me to write another book, under contract. My life was finally starting to turn around.

  "What did I tell you?" My publicist whispered in my ear as she led me to where the book signing was taking place. Her name was Alison, and she was a typical, business type. She wore power suits, had her hair cut short, and was always cursing and yelling. "They're like lambs to the slaughter. Throw some slop in the trough and watch them come."

  "And in this metaphor, is my book the slop?" I asked as I took a seat at the table. Beside the table was a huge cardboard cutout of my book. And piled on the table, as well as all around me, were hundreds of copies of my book.

  "Of course not, darling!" she assured me. "Your book is fabulous. It's exquisite. Hey! We're ready to get this under way!" She cut herself off mid praise as she suddenly became aware that no one was crowding around.

  She scurried off to the other end of the bookstore to talk to the owner. Within minutes, an announcement was made over the P.A. that I was ready. Then, the mayhem started.

  I was still shocked by the reception of the book. There were at least sixty people in the store, all clutching a copy of my book and all clamoring to get my autograph. Although they lined up, they still pushed and surged onto where I was seated.

  Some were nice and congratulated me. Others demanded a date for my next book. Some flirted. Others were straight up rude. It was an odd experience, and one I didn't think I was going to get used to anytime soon.

  As the hours dragged on, all I could think about was getting back to my apartment. I was going to open a bottle of red, maybe have some cheese and crackers, and relax in a nice hot bath. As this thought worked to warm my soul, I suddenly
remembered that I wasn't going to be able to do that. I had plans already.

  That night my boyfriend had deigned it as his duty to take me out to dinner. He wanted to congratulate me and insisted that we eat out. His name was James, and I had been seeing him for a little over two weeks.

  He was nice enough and certainly handsome enough. If I had met him at any other time in my life, I might have fallen head over heels for him. But he had one fatal attribute that he was never going to be able to fix. He wasn't Liam.

  I hated myself for thinking that, but it was something that came up more and more, the longer we dated. Every time we went out, or met up, or had sex, I was inevitably forced to make a comparison between him and my previous boyfriend. And, despite the fact that he wasn't lying to me in any way, shape, or form, he always came up short.

  I wanted to get over Liam. I yearned to. He was a part of my old life that I knew I needed to abandon. What he had done to me was terrible and unforgivable, and I should have been able to push him from my memory and move on. I should have been strong enough. But I wasn't. And as unfair as it was to James, I wasn't even sure that I wanted to.

  "Seriously, thank you. Thank you!" A young woman blushed as I signed her book for her. She picked it gingerly from my hands as if it were some sort of priceless artifact, before reading the autograph I had left and scurrying away, the book held firmly to her chest.

  I couldn't help but smile as I watched her go. I still couldn't believe it. It was as I was watching her, that the next book fell down in front of me. I picked it up, flipping to the front where there was a blank page.

  "And who should I make this out to?" I asked without looking up.

  "Liam will do. Maybe Dr. Morgan, or is that a bit ostentatious?"

  I froze in shock, pen in hand, staring down at the page. Then, very slowly, I looked up at the person standing in front of me. His legs first, then his torso, followed by his chest. From there, I made my way to his neck until my eyes finally fell on his. Sure enough, it was Liam.

  "Hey, Kate," he said with an unsure smile.

  He was just as I remembered. Sure, it had only been three months, but it felt like years. That smile, those eyes, that chin. He was as handsome as ever and seemed to stand eight feet tall above everyone else. He had always had the ability to make my knees go weak, and I hated the fact that I could feel them wobbling under the table.

  "Oh," I managed, coughing once in an attempt to clear my throat and strengthen my voice. "What are you doing here?"

  "I have a book signing here at three. So I figured I'd check yours out while I waited. Maybe snag me an autograph."

  I didn't smile, despite the joke. He was trying to disarm me with his effortless charm, but I was determined not to let him. Even the fact he had caught me off guard was too much. "I didn't know you knew how to write?"

  "Ah, you caught me,” he said. “I'm actually here to see you. I saw an article in the paper earlier, and I had to come down and congratulate you. Seriously, congratulations, Kate. You deserve it."

  "That's what you came here to say?" I asked curtly. It came off sounding rude, and I instantly regretted it. It was just, the moment that I realized it was him, I fell into my defensive mode. He brought it out in me.

  "Should there be anything else? I knew you had what it took to make it. I'm just really happy for you."

  "Thanks, again," I said as I pulled the book in front of me and signed it.

  I was careful not to look at him. I knew that if I did, I would have dropped my icy facade. I still had feelings for him and was scared what would happen if I let them out.

  "And there's one more thing," he said.

  "Oh," I offered. I could feel my heart beating faster with thoughts of what he might ask me. I could see him dancing back and forth on his toes in anticipation.

  "Yeah, I've got some big news of my own. Not as big as yours, obviously, but still. I wasn't going to tell you, considering everything. But then I saw you in the paper, and well, I thought that you deserved to know."

  "Okay," I said, keeping my voice calm and devoid of emotion. "What is it?"

  "I'd rather not talk about it here.” He looked around the bookstore as if worried that he might be overheard. It was nearing the end of the day so the line had significantly thinned out, and we were basically alone. "I was wondering if you would like to have dinner tonight. Or a drink? Just one. Nice and simple. I’d rather tell you, then."

  I looked up at him properly for the first time since I had realized it was him. I looked into his eyes, trying to read them for deception or malice. There was none. He looked concerned, upset even. They were the kind eyes that I recognized. The ones I had fallen in love with. Twice. They were ones that I had always had a hard time saying no to, and despite myself, I soon found my head nodding.

  "Great!" he beamed. "How can I reach you? Your number has changed. I mean, I think your number has changed."

  "Here," I said, looking back down at the book. I opened it back up and wrote my number underneath my autograph. "Text me a time and location. But no later than six. And just one drink, okay?"

  "Okay, that’s perfect." He grabbed the book, and I kept my eyes averted from his. "And Kate, again, congrats. Seriously." And he was gone.

  I watched the space where he disappeared for some time. Even as I signed books and chatted politely with the remaining few people, my thoughts remained strictly on Liam and what I had just done.

  I blamed my good mood for saying yes at first. That must have been the reason. But as that idea faded, I blamed the fact that he had caught me off guard, or that I didn't want to appear rude in front of my fans. Really, I cycled through a dozen reasons as to why I said yes. But in the end, I had no choice but to contend with reality. I was still in love with Liam.

  Seeing him there, looking as good as he did. The way he smiled at me and joked. It reminded me of the time we had spent together and made me yearn to be able to relive it. That was why I said yes. Did I think that anything was going to happen? Probably not. Would I have liked for something to happen? I really wasn't sure.

  CHAPTER 29

  LIAM

  Asking Kate out was a surprise, even to me. In truth, I had never meant to. I honestly just wanted to go down to the signing and tell her how proud of her I was. That was it. I was going to shake her hand, maybe get a hug, and then leave her life for good.

  But it didn't happen that way. The moment I saw her, I knew that it couldn't happen that way. She was just so damn beautiful, a tonic that I didn't even know I needed. When she looked up at me, she smiled, too. It was quick, so fast that if I had blinked, I would have missed it. But it was a smile, nonetheless. When I saw that, I knew that just saying hello and goodbye wasn't going to be enough.

  So I asked her out. Even as I said the words, I couldn't believe it. I had no right to do it, after what I had done to her. But I also knew that if I didn't, then I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself.

  So I did it under the guise of having something big to tell her. My news that I was leaving the hospital. But really, I just wanted to spend some time with her again, just one more time. Just one more night to rekindle the memories that we had so that when I did leave the country, it would be in peace.

  As I made my way to the bar where we had agreed to meet, I couldn't believe how nervous I was. I was literally shaking with nerves. I felt like I was in high school again, going on my first ever date. What was I going to say? What would she say? Was this romantic or platonic?

  My mind was totally focused on her. I didn't notice the crowd of New Yorkers, spilling out onto the street, ready for a Saturday night of drinking and partying. I didn't notice the chill in the air, despite the fact that I was wearing a button-down shirt and no jacket. I barely even noticed the bar as I walked into it and couldn't for the life of me remember sitting down.

  When I texted her the time to meet and the location, she responded with a very curt, “sure.” I wasn't even sure if she would come. I wouldn't h
ave been surprised if she didn't. It would have been exactly what I deserved. More than that even.

  But then I spotted her. As she walked through the door, it was as if time slowed down. It was bizarre really. Tunnel vision kicked in, and I only had eyes for her. Her long brown hair seemed to glimmer in the candlelight of the bar. She wore a casual black tank top and jeans, but to me, it looked like a gown.

  She smiled when she saw me, and my heart nearly burst. All the emotions I had spent so long pushing down and forgetting had come back to the forefront with that smile. Just like that, I was in love. Again.

  "Hey," I said, trying to sound casual and in control as she sat down.

  "Hey," she responded in the same tone. We were at a small table, and she pulled a seat out directly opposite me, so as to not be too close.

  "So, you look good." I sighed openly the moment that I said it. It was just so pedestrian. What a stupid thing to say.

  "Thanks, I guess," she responded, looking increasingly nervous. "So, that drink?"

  "Right," I waved the server over and ordered our drinks. I was just happy to have a distraction. But once he was gone, we were alone again. An awkward silence fell between us. I looked at her, and she did everything she could to not look at me. For a moment there, I thought that we were about to have the shortest drink in history.

  But it was as I looked at her, watching her, that I began to feel at ease. I don't know why or how, but the nervousness that had surrounded me, the panic that I had felt, suddenly evaporated as if it were never there in the first place. Maybe I had just had enough? Maybe I just needed to be reminded of who it was that I was with and that we weren't two strangers, but ex-lovers who were perfect for one another.

  "This is dumb," I said. "Seriously. I'm going to start again, and we can forget about the last, let's say, three minutes. Deal?"

  "Deal," she said, smiling at me for the first real time. The moment she did, I could feel the pressure fall from us as the tension lifted.