All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction)

by Thorne, Olivia

It didn’t take as long to listen to them as you would think. Over 70 were from reporters or media people: television, magazine, newspaper, talk shows, even a couple of book agents. I listened to the first couple with bemused interest, then started deleting them as soon as I heard, “Hello, Ms. Ross, this is blah-blah-blah from Action 5 news – ”

  Anh had left a funny little message about how I could have been the next Kim Kardashian or Paris Hilton except I didn’t have any moving pictures. Then she turned serious and asked how I was doing, and told me to call her when I could.

  One thing she said stuck with me, partially because of the awe and wonder in her voice: “Jeez, Lily, you should SEE all the reporters and photographers camped outside the apartment building… there must be three or four DOZEN of them…”

  There were a couple of other messages from college friends I hadn’t heard from in forever.

  And then there was my father’s message.

  “Lily, please call us immediately. It’s Dad.”

  And then he hung up.

  The urgency and displeasure in his voice sent ice crackling up and down my spine.

  I really didn’t want to have that conversation yet, so I called their home phone instead of their cells. Both of my parents work, and neither was home, so I left a message on the machine apologizing for how they had found out and promising to call them later.

  Two more messages came in while I was on the phone.

  I was hoping one of them might be from Connor.

  Nope. Just more reporters.

  I put the phone away and, lacking anything better to do, turned on the TV for Round Two.

  40

  Connor, Sebastian, and Johnny didn’t get back until almost 7 o’clock. Johnny was wary, jumping at shadows.

  “Damn, you would not believe how many people came rushing up, getting in Connor’s face and snapping pictures,” he said wearily. “It was a nightmare. Nobody bothered you up here, though, right?”

  Sebastian was jubilant, like a conquering king – or maybe the power behind the throne after a successful campaign.

  “Who is a genius?” he beamed, his arms outspread, inviting the adulation of an invisible crowd. “Who snatched victory from the jaws, not just of defeat, but utter disaster? Whose media strategy crushed that backstabbing skank and that evil old son-of-a-bitch? Moi, that’s who. Thank you. Thank you.”

  Then he frowned at me in my robe. “Good God, aren’t you ever going to get dressed?”

  Connor was smiling when he walked through the door, which relieved some of my tension.

  He came over and immediately hugged me, pulling me close, his arms wrapped tight around me. My fear ebbed away, and I melted into his embrace.

  “You watch the TV?” he murmured into my ear.

  I nodded silently.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said.

  I pulled back and smiled at him. “You were fantastic.”

  He grinned cockily. “I was, wasn’t I?”

  “I’m sorry, who was fantastic?” Sebastian asked, putting a hand to his ear.

  “You’re brilliant, you’re amazing, you’re astounding,” Connor said wearily as he walked away from me and over to the bar.

  He never kissed me.

  I stood there and watched him go, the fear welling back up inside me.

  Sebastian’s eyes flicked from me to Connor, and he launched into another outburst – but it felt like this one was meant to distract me.

  “My cunning is peerless, Lily,” he informed me. “My strategy, flawless. Only Napoleon and Genghis Khan could match me, but they’re both dead, so, ha, I win.”

  “I noticed the news started to shift after awhile to being very pro-Connor and anti-Miranda,” I said with a wan smile.

  “My doing,” Sebastian said, taking a little bow. “After every interview I called up the producers further down the line and started giving them savage little quotes. It worked brilliantly, if I do say so myself.”

  “You do say so yourself,” Johnny sighed. “Over and over and over.”

  “Shush,” Sebastian snapped. “Every artist deserves his moment of glory.”

  “You’re America’s new golden boy,” I called over to Connor.

  “So I hear,” Connor said as he poured himself a glass of scotch.

  “I saw your dad self-destruct, too.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that,” Connor chuckled before he downed half the drink.

  “Did you see Ellen?” Sebastian squealed. “He absolutely killed on Ellen. I think he might be the only man on earth who has a shot at taking her away from Portia.”

  “Hey,” I warned him.

  “Theoretically. Besides, I would never let him do that to Portia,” Sebastian sniffed. Then he got all happy again. “We got him on Leno last minute – you’ll see it tonight, Connor was excellent. Of course, I got him on there. I also got him on Jimmy Kimmel at the last minute – you’ll have to see it, he did the whole joke about bumping Matt Damon.”

  Connor finished the first drink and started pouring another.

  Sebastian snapped his fingers at him. “Hey, you – yeah, you, Mr. Alcoholic – you performed fairly well on too much scotch and limited sleep – ”

  “Fairly well?” Connor asked with a raised eyebrow before he took another gulp.

  Sebastian just steamrolled over him and kept on going.

  “ – this morning, but I do not want to risk it again for tomorrow, we have you in New York for Letterman and the View, and I do not want you self-destructing in front of Whoopi after all the hard work I’ve done, so stop going all Judy Garland on me.”

  Every single person in the room squinted at Sebastian.

  “I’m not gay,” Connor said, like he was explaining something to a slow child.

  “I can vouch for that,” I added.

  “She wasn’t gay, she just drank too much, like you,” Sebastian snapped.

  “I’d prefer Dean Martin, then. Or Johnny Cash. Or at least someone with a penis.’

  I couldn’t stop myself.

  “RuPaul?” I suggested impishly.

  Connor glared at me. “You’re not funny.”

  “I kind of am, actually,” I said with a grin.

  Sebastian walked over and pulled the glass out of Connor’s hand. “RuPaul or Judy, Dean Martin or Johnny Cash, I don’t care, no more booze for you.”

  Connor let him do it, but said with a shrug, “I’ll just have more on the plane.”

  “We’re flying there? Tonight?” I asked, elated that I could finally get out of this very nice, very posh prison.

  Connor lived in New York – I would finally get to see his place –

  “Johnny and I are,” Connor said, averting his eyes. “You and Sebastian are staying here.”

  Silence.

  You could have heard half a pin drop.

  Then –

  “WHAT?!” Sebastian cried, outraged and heartbroken and shocked beyond belief all at once.

  I stared at Connor. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

  He wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  Sebastian was about to have a conniption fit. “But you need me there to – ”

  “You’re doing everything by phone, you can handle it just as easily here.”

  “But I have to be there, I need to see what’s going on, I need to have boots on the ground,” Sebastian protested angrily.

  “I can handle myself on Letterman and the View, and you can see the live interviews via satellite as they’re happening.”

  “But it makes no sense – our offices are in Manhattan, my apartment is in Manhattan – ”

  “I need you to take care of Lily,” Connor said.

  “I don’t need anybody to ‘take care’ of me,” I snapped. “What I’m wondering is why the hell you’re running away from me like a goddamn coward.”

  Sebastian looked over at me like Oh crap, did I just step in something?

  Connor looked at me, too – and he was furious.
<
br />   Good, I thought. You asshole.

  “See?” Sebastian said, pointing at me. “Lily’s perfectly fine at taking care of herself.”

  Connor leaned across the bar and stared at me. “You don’t know what it’s like out there. You weren’t at the studios, you weren’t there – ”

  “Yeah, because somebody thinks I’m too fragile to live.”

  “I don’t want you getting hurt – ”

  “You don’t want me around. There’s a fucking difference.”

  Again – silence. Or close to it, anyway.

  I could hear Johnny suck in his breath.

  Sebastian muttered quietly, “Awk-waaaard…”

  Connor kept staring at me – and only me – as he said, “Guys, I need to talk to Lily for a minute. Alone.”

  “Okay,” Johnny agreed. He opened the door and jerked his head at Sebastian like Come ON.

  Sebastian pointed at Connor as he strode across the room. “She’s obviously fine on her own, I really think you ought to reconsider taking me to – ”

  “GET OUT!” Connor roared.

  Sebastian hustled out the door, and Johnny almost slammed it shut behind them.

  41

  “What the fuck was that?” Connor asked angrily.

  “Why aren’t you taking me to New York?” I demanded.

  “I told you, the paparazzi, the reporters, they’d be all over you like wolves on – ”

  “Stop lying to me, Connor! I saw the fucking interviews,” I shouted. “I saw them ask you a million times about marrying me, and I saw how you reacted each and every time.”

  All expression faded from his face. His features became a blank mask.

  A poker player to the end.

  Except when he sees his ex hold his brother’s hand, a nasty little voice whispered in my ear.

  I calmed down – forced myself to calm down. “Look,” I said in a much lower voice, “I understand. You’ve known me, what, six days now? And you got caught in a bad situation, and now you’re kind of stuck with me, and you have to say these things you obviously wouldn’t even be thinking about right now if it wasn’t for me.”

  “That’s not it,” he said quietly. “That’s not it at all.”

  I breathed out hard and tried to stifle a sob.

  “Okay, fine, that’s not it. But if that were it, I’d understand. But I don’t understand. Because last night you said you loved me…”

  I had to take a deep breath to keep going.

  “…and nobody asked you to. Nobody forced you to do it. You weren’t on TV. You said… you loved me… and then when I woke up this morning, it was all different. You were different. So, I want to know… and tell me the truth, not some bullshit answer… what changed?”

  He was silent for a long while. He just stood there as though supporting his weight with his arms, staring at me… and then he sagged under the weight of his emotions. Lowered his head as though beaten.

  After a long moment he stood up straight, but he tilted his head down, closed his eyes, and massaged his temples with one hand.

  “Last night was really… intense,” he said quietly.

  I stood there, fighting to keep my tears in, waiting to hear more.

  “I said some things… and I meant them… but I think I said them because everything was so intense… and maybe… I said them a little too early.”

  I nodded, my lower lip trembling. I managed to keep myself from bawling, but I couldn’t keep the tears from silently running down my cheeks. I hurriedly wiped them away.

  “I u-understand. It’s okay.”

  He opened his eyes and looked up at me, and his face was just destroyed. He looked like he was going to break down himself.

  “Hey – aw, hey, come on,” he said, walking around the bar and rushing over to me. “Stop. Please, Lily, don’t…”

  He wrapped me in his arms and crushed me against him, cradling my head against his chest with one hand.

  I couldn’t hang on any longer.

  Miranda, the scandal, the national media implying I was a prostitute –

  All of that was nothing compared to him saying he loved me… and then taking it back.

  I broke down sobbing in his arms.

  “Stop – Lily, stop,” he said, his voice agonized, and he tilted my head up and kissed me.

  It was the old Connor again, the fire and the heat and the passion and the love. I drank it in like a woman dying of thirst, and kissed him back as hard and as desperately as I could.

  42

  After a few moments he pulled away and smiled sadly at me. His hands were still cradling my head, and he wiped away the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.

  “Come on,” he whispered, “let’s sit down for a minute.”

  He led me over to the couch and we both sank down onto the cushions. I leaned against him, my head against his chest, and he encircled me with his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just…”

  “It’s okay,” I whispered.

  “No, it’s not. I meant it when I said it, I just… I got a little freaked out this morning when I woke up. With everything that happened yesterday, and how much I hate my family, and you’re so good, you’re such a wonderful person… Jesus, Lily, seeing what they were going to do to you, and you were so brave, telling me to go ahead even though you knew what was going to happen… I’d never felt like that towards anyone, ever. And I meant every word.”

  But it was as obvious as a neon sign that he wasn’t saying it now.

  I was silent for a few seconds.

  “I didn’t ask you to say it,” I finally whispered.

  “I know. I know that. I said it because I wanted to.”

  I pulled away from him so I could look him in the eyes, even though I was sure I looked all puffy and red and terrible. “I thought it was too early, too.”

  Even though it was how I really felt.

  He smiled, lopsided and apologetic. “Just a little too early, that’s all.”

  My heart broke a bit more when he said that.

  “You can take it back, you know,” I whispered.

  Not really, no. No, you can’t.

  But I wanted to see what he’d say.

  His blue eyes softened, and the edges of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at me. “I don’t want to take it back.”

  Those words were like a balm, and they healed some of the cracks in my broken heart. Maybe my soul even soared a little, just the tiniest bit.

  But I noticed once again that he still hadn’t said it.

  I wiped my eyes. “Okay… but I don’t want you to say it again… not until you really mean it.”

  “But I did mean – ”

  “Until you can say it and really, really mean it and not feel freaked out when you say it,” I clarified with a sniffle. “Okay?”

  He grinned. “Deal.”

  Deal.

  Ol’ buddy, ol’ pal.

  Ugh.

  I sighed. I sounded forlorn and beaten down, even to me. “So, can I go with you to New York?”

  He winced. “I… I really need a little time…”

  Oh Christ, why didn’t he just plunge a knife in my heart and get it over with?

  My eyes must have been threatening to overflow again because he hurriedly added, “Just a day – just a day to clear my head, to get some perspective. There’s been so much stress, so much going on – I just – can you do that for me? Can you give me that? One day? That’s all I ask, just one day.”

  It wasn’t unreasonable.

  It was sort of heartbreaking, but it wasn’t unreasonable.

  I wiped my eyes and nodded, then forced a smile. “In most relationships, people do go home at some point in the first, oh, five or six days.”

  I didn’t bring up the fact that I’d already gone home the last time he’d broken my heart.

  He chuckled and softly wiped my tears away again. “Most relationships don’t have to contend with blackmail and psychotic exes
, either.”

  “Only the boring ones,” I said, and he burst out laughing.

  I couldn’t help but smile to hear him so happy.

  Then he turned serious, and peered into my eyes as he cradled my face. “Are we okay?”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak, but I forced a smile and nodded.

  He leaned in and kissed me, and it was so sweet and lovely that it almost erased all of my doubts and hurt.

  Almost.

  43

  From sweet and lovely, the kiss flowed naturally into something else.

  Longing.

  Desire.

  His lips were sticky and salty from the tears on my face, and they radiated heat as they slid sensually across mine.

  I didn’t want him to go.

  I wanted him to stay with me.

  I opened my mouth and invited him in.

  He hesitated the slightest bit… but then his tongue slowly parted my lips, and the heat behind the kiss doubled.

  I moaned slightly as his tongue found mine and softly caressed me, explored me, filled me.

  He raised up his right hand and caressed my neck. I could feel the pulse of my heartbeat under his fingers as they pressed insistently into my skin.

  Then he let his hand drift down to the open ‘V’ of my robe, pulling apart the folds of cloth. One finger traced my cleavage, slowly parting my breasts… and then he moved his fingers beneath the cloth, finding my nipple already stiff and aching. He played with it, stroking it, caressing it – and then he cupped my breast, fondling it, holding it in his palm, playing with its weight, gradually squeezing it more roughly, more intensely. And all the while he was kissing me deep and hot and slow and sensually, enough to make my head spin.

  Then his hand came out of my robe and I felt a second’s sadness and loss – until I felt both his hands under my thighs, pulling me up, forcing me to stand, shifting my weight until I was straddling him. Even through my robe I could feel the stiffness in his pants, and I pressed my body against him, wanting to feel more.

  He never stopped kissing me the entire time. His hands hurriedly fumbled with the knot on the robe’s belt and pulled the folds back, exposing my naked body to him.