Daddy's Rich Enemy_A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Katie Ford

  “So, Allie, tell me. Why are you interested in interning for Lockdown?”

  It’s a question that I’ve practiced answering in my mirror over thirty times, but my mind suddenly goes blank.

  “Um,” I say in a nervous attempt to buy myself more time. “Well, it’s just such a prestigious company.”

  “It is,” Tracy agrees. Another hot flash breaks over my body and I lick my dry lips. “As you know, we are a premier security company, catering to every kind of celebrity imaginable.”

  “Yes,” I say weakly. “That’s why I’m so eager to work here.”

  “Because of the celebrities?” Tracy says slowly. “Because if so, I hate to tell you but this internship isn’t client-facing.” My head whirls. What does client-facing mean? I panic for a moment before remembering. Oh right. It just means that I won’t be working with clients in this position.

  “Of course not,” I say in a rush. “It’s just an internship. I meant I want to work here because of the prestige of Lockdown. It would be very exciting to work for such a great company.”

  Tracy nods, satisfied. “So can you tell me more about yourself, Allie?”

  Now it’s my turn to blink at her.

  “Why do you want to be here, aside from our reputation?” Tracy prompts expectantly.

  Shit, I think. Why can’t I remember any answers? This should be so easy! She’s asking about me, for crying out loud.

  “I’m sorry, I was so nervous this morning,” I babble. “Um, I know that I have an answer to this, I just—”

  The woman interrupts kindly. “Allie, take a deep breath and try to relax,” she says.

  I inhale but a speck of dust gets caught in my throat and soon, I’m coughing and gagging and choking. Tears well up in my eyes and I can feel my face burning with shame as I bury my face in my hands.

  “I’m sorry,” I choke in a gravelly voice. Panic rises in my chest and my heart starts to thud like I’ve just climbed on a rollercoaster. I know that every passing second is only damning me further, but I can’t help it. The panic snowballs and soon I’m sobbing and coughing into my hands.

  Tracy hands me a tissue box. “Try to breathe deeply,” she says kindly.

  I grab at the thin tissues and wipe my eyes. The tissue comes away soaking wet and stained with black and the sight makes me groan – of course, I hadn’t thought to use waterproof mascara.

  God, I’m such an idiot.

  “I’m sorry,” I sniffle weakly as I dab at my eyes and cheeks. “I don’t know what happened. I just panicked.”

  To my horror, Tracy is on her feet again. She smooths her skirt with both hands.

  “Dear, it’s fine,” she says. “Come with me.”

  “Are we going to another room?” I ask nervously.

  Tracy doesn’t reply. My heart sinks as she leads me into the floor’s small lobby.

  “It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Carter,” Tracy says. She holds out her hand for a shake. “Thank you very much for taking the time to come in.”

  My shoulders droop and I feel a fresh wave of tears coming on as I press my hand to hers. Tracy gives me a firm shake and an encouraging smile.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “Everyone has days like this. Just trust me on that.”

  I nod. I know that she only said to make me feel better, but it has the opposite effect. By the time the elevator doors ding open and I step inside, I’m crying so hard that my whole body is shaking.

  I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare. All I had to do was prove that I’m not a total idiot…and if anything, I just proved that I really am as stupid as my father says.

  Oh, god.

  My father.

  How the heck am I supposed to face him now? Daddy will be so angry, except this time he’ll be right … this screw-up of an interview was all my fault.

  Chapter Two

  Dane

  “Mr. Andersen! Mr. Andersen!”

  “Dane! I’m here from CNN, and—”

  “Mr. Andersen, what do you think of the break-in?”

  “I heard your client was robbed blind! Can you comment?”

  I straighten my posture and stare out into the sea of press and reporters. They’re like thirsty little fish, all squabbling for a tiny crumb of food.

  “The break-in has been handled and all Lockdown clients have been taken care of,” I growl into the microphone.

  “Can you give more details?” a young reporter yells. She flashes me a grin, but I ignore her.

  “I can’t reveal any client details, you know better than to ask. After all, Lockdown prides itself on confidentiality,” I continue. “But I can assure you with the utmost confidence that the situation has been handled.”

  A collective cry of unhappiness rises from the horde of journalists, but I stand up and leave the room before any more questions can be shouted in my general direction.

  Because it’s always like this. Every single fucking time.

  I shouldn’t be so unhappy. If anything, I should be goddamned grateful that nothing worse happened over the weekend. The world’s leading tennis player, Cliff Rutledge, is a client of mine. His mansion in the Hamptons was broken into over the weekend. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but when something bad happens to someone famous, suddenly it’s the world’s business. They want to know everything even when there’s nothing to know. Cliff is fine. His wife and kids are fine. His tennis rackets are fine. Nothing was touched, in fact.

  But the truth isn’t enough to feed the beast. When something like the break-in at Cliff’s mansion happens, I have to spend the next six goddamned months doing damage control. With a deep sigh, I walk into my office suite. Lea, my assistant, is sitting at her desk and typing away on her MacBook Air. When she sees me, she leaps to her feet.

  “Mr. Andersen, I wasn’t expecting you back so early,” she mumbles. “Can I bring you anything?”

  “Coffee,” I growl as I pass her desk and walk into my office. Shutting the door behind me, I flop down in my chair and kick my feet up on my mahogany desk. Goddamn. It’s only Monday morning, and I feel like it’s the end of the fucking week.

  Lea pushes open the door and steps inside. She’s carefully balancing a tray and shoots me a nervous look as she approaches my desk. With a smile, she sets the tray down.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Andersen?”

  “Naw,” I say smoothly. “This is good, thanks.”

  Lea nods. “Yes, of course,” she says quickly. “Have a good day, sir. Just let me know if you need anything.”

  After the door shuts, I’m left in the blissful silence of my office. Finally. I walk over to the windows and look down over the city. The sun is high in the sky and the sight of the buildings glittering in the bright yellow rays fills me with pride. Sure, the break-in over the weekend was a setback, but it was just a minor one. Accidents happen, and even the best security sometimes can’t keep out a stray dog. That’s the truth of it. Lasers and video cameras do a lot, but sometimes stray dogs are smarter than humans and it doesn’t matter what high-tech gear you have – that dog is gonna breach the perimeter.

  But it’s okay. Lockdown is the best security company in the world – I know it, Cliff knows it, and all of my competitors know it too. And that’s what’s important. Because I have a gala to attend, and pretty soon, I’ll be coming home with another award proclaiming that we’re “Best in Category.” Then, all of the publicity will be good again and we’ll be sure to attract new high-profile clients. I’ve never been very interested in attention myself, but I’ll take any chance I can get if there’s a possibility of growing Lockdown. This company is my pride and joy. Hell, after so many years, it almost feels more like my baby than my company.

  Suddenly, a knock at the door jolts me out of my thoughts and I cross the room in wide strides. Lea is standing on the other side, holding a golden, flaky pastry. When she sees me, she takes a deep breath and flushes. “Mr. Andersen, I brought you a fresh Danish,” she says qu
ietly. “Just in case.”

  This is getting ridiculous. Didn’t I say I wanted to be left alone?

  “Thanks,” I say curtly. “I appreciate it.”

  “Will that be all?” Lea licks her lips and lets her hazel eyes linger on me.

  Oh no. This isn’t what I want, although it’s clear that she’s been lusting after me since day one. “Yes,” I say, trying not to give away my thoughts. “Thank you.”

  Lea nods. A pink flush spreads across her face. “Good,” she echoes. “I’ll just be out here, then.” She turns to leave and I can tell that she’s having a hard time dragging her eyes away from mine.

  I gesture curtly to the door. “Please.”

  The pink on Lea’s cheeks flames red as she scoots out of my office. I roll my eyes as I close the door behind her and sit behind my desk. Because women love me, and my cute little secretary just happens to be one of them. I really should take her up on her silent offer sometime, but Lockdown beckons to me with its seductive whispers and promises of success.

  Because this is just another day in the life of Dane Andersen, workaholic extraordinaire. After the excitement of the press conference, I feel about as motivated as a slug. I flip on my computer and glance at my inbox before groaning and leaning back in my chair. Everyone thinks the life of a CEO is so glamorous, but they’ve clearly never waded through an inbox with over six hundred unread messages. The hours drag on and on. I don’t take a lunch – instead, Lea comes in and we go over the press release that I drafted with the help of Cliff’s lawyer. By the end of the day, I’m exhausted. Normally I stay until seven or eight in the evening, but it’s been a long fucking day. I just want to go home, jerk off in the shower, and order Chinese.

  Exciting, I know. But not everyone can be Dane Andersen. I take my private elevator down to the lobby, and to my relief, it’s mostly empty and I see my driver, Hanson, waiting by my black Town Car.

  “Good evening, sir,” Hanson says when I hand him my briefcase. “Home?”

  “Yes please,” I say drily. Hanson opens the door for me. Just as I’m about to climb inside, I see a girl curled up on one of the marble benches outside the lobby.

  I narrow my eyes. “Fucking homeless problem,” I mutter. I’ll have to have Lea make arrangements for full-time security outside of Lockdown. The last thing I need is a picture of my building in the press, complete with homeless people flocking nearby. Then the girl shifts and I realize that she’s not homeless at all – she was just holding her coat over her head. Her round and curvy frame is dressed in business casual and she’s crying her eyes out. Streaks of mascara paint her round cheeks.

  Despite the tears, she’s beautiful. She’s also young – barely out of her teens from the looks of it.

  “Hold on,” I tell Hanson. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walk over to the girl and clear my throat.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  The girl squeaks and jumps in shock at the sound of my voice. Then she lifts her eyes to mine. Her irises are a deep velvety brown like a rich chocolate, and all of a sudden, my heart lurches. When was the last time someone looked at me with such trust in their eyes?

  “I’m sorry,” the girl says. She clears her throat and wipes her eyes with small fingers. “Um, I was just sitting here. That’s not illegal, is it?”

  “Yes,” I say in a deadpan voice. “It is.”

  The girl’s eyes go wide and she draws in a long, shuddering breath.

  “Relax, I’m kidding,” I sigh. Whoever she is, she’s in bad shape. The girl looks at me and sniffles. Her eyes are almost too big to look real, especially under the sheaf of silky brown hair that falls over her forehead. Despite the blotchy pink spots on her cheeks from crying, she’s insanely gorgeous. Lust flares in my lower belly and I lick my lips. I have no idea who this female is, but I’m attracted for sure. She’s wearing a simple black pencil skirt with a white cotton wrap-blouse and suddenly, I picture the clothing in shreds on the floor of my bedroom. “I see you’re obviously upset about something,” I growl. “And I can’t have that.”

  The girl looks up at me and flushes.

  I hold out my hand. “Dane Andersen,” I say smoothly. “Do you need a ride home?”

  She gasps and eyes the open and inviting door of the Town Car. I can see the indecision flitting in her face. Ride home with a guy she’s never met, or stay here crying on a cold marble bench? I half think she’s going to do the smart thing and refuse. But then she takes my hand, and the flare of heat is immediate. The contact runs like a jolt of electricity through my big frame … and suddenly, I know I’m going to have this girl, come hell or high water.

  Chapter Three

  Allie

  With a nervous gulp, I look up at the man standing before me. He’s tall with dark hair that falls over his forehead and bright blue eyes that pierce right through me.

  He extends a hand in my direction. “I’m Dane Andersen,” he says in a rich voice that sends a shiver down my spine. “May I offer you a ride home?”

  “Um,” I stammer like a fool, unable to say anything.

  Dane smiles wolfishly. “Something the matter? I mean, obviously,” he replies. “But I’m not used to getting that reaction when I ask beautiful women if they need a ride.”

  I blink at him. He thinks I’m beautiful?

  There’s no way he’s telling the truth. He has to be lying. Men with cheekbones like Dane’s definitely don’t go after big girls like me who have twenty or thirty pounds to spare.

  “I’m not going to bite you,” Dane says. He sounds amused and I sneak another peek at his chiseled face. There’s something about the look in his dark blue eyes that makes my heart race. I tremble for a moment, then put my sweaty palm against his. My flush darkens as Dane pulls me to my feet with a sensual, easy strength.

  “I … I have someone waiting to pick me up,” I fib, glancing around. The truth is that I asked Nick, our chauffeur, to leave without me hours ago. I felt so horrible after the interview that I couldn’t face immediately going back to the mansion and the judgmental eyes of my parents. It seemed easier to hang out here in anonymity, trying to collect myself before heading into the lion’s den.

  But this alpha male doesn’t take no for an answer.

  “Really, sweetheart?” he asks smoothly, those blue eyes sweeping the vicinity. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s coming.”

  “I really shouldn’t—”

  Dane turns to me and cocks his head to the side. His dark hair flops into his face and I have to resist the insane impulse to brush it aside. “If it makes you feel better, I can swear that you’ll be perfectly safe in my company,” Dane says archly. He points to a black Town Car. “That’s my car, and my driver, Hanson, will make sure you arrive home safely.”

  At that, I nod hesitantly.

  “Good, I’m glad that’s settled. I’m a terrible salesman,” Dane says.

  He leads me to the car and I bite my lip when I realize that we’re still holding hands. Dane opens the back seat and gestures for me to climb inside, then he climbs in after me and settles on the other side of the car. He doesn’t take his eyes away from me the whole time, and the intense heat makes my insides quiver and blossom.

  “So, how did you wind up crying in front of my building?” Dane asks in a low voice. “What happened?”

  I sigh and let my shoulders sag against the seat. After hours of crying on a cold marble bench, the warm interior of the Town Car feels like heaven. When I don’t answer, Dane cups my chin in his hand and tilts my face to meet his.

  “You can tell me,” he urges.

  When I still don’t answer, Dane smirks and shakes his head. “Shy now, are we?”

  I flush and shake my head. “I’m always shy,” I say honestly.

  Dane stares at me for a long moment. In the muted sunlight of the Town Car, his blue eyes are sparkling like sapphires. There’s an intensity in his gaze that I’ve never seen before, not even in my father when he talks about busine
ss. No doubt about it, there’s something special and different about this man. I feel an overwhelming urge to make him like me. There’s no way I can tell him about my botched interview at his company – what would he think of me then?

  “It was nothing,” I lie. “I just had a really long day.”

  Dane nods. “I understand,” he says. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Do you realize that you still haven’t given me your name?”

  A warm flush spreads across my cheeks and I bite my lip anxiously. “I’m Allie,” I say after a long pause. “Allie Carter.”

  Dane takes my hand again. Compared to his massive paw, my hand looks positively tiny and childlike. I think he’s going to shake my hand, but instead he lifts it to his mouth and kisses my fingers. Dane’s hot breath caresses my skin and an electric thrill shoots down my spine. I don’t know if it’s the exhilaration from having failed so spectacularly or the adrenaline rush of being picked up by a guy like Dane, but I can feel myself starting to get wet.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Allie,” Dane says in a low growl that sends another shiver of arousal through my body.

  I’m blushing as I pull my hand away.

  “So, where am I taking you?”

  “I should probably get a train home from Grand Central,” I say softly. “You don’t have to drive me all the way. I don’t live in the city.”