Bad Boys and Billionaires (The Naughty List Bundles)

by Synthia St. Claire

  When she sat back down, I had something prepared.

  "Do you ever feel like Daniel's sort of…distant?"

  "Oh, all the time," Lindsey replied. "He's just trying to protect himself - I don't know why, but I always figured he let his guard down around you."

  "Maybe not as much as I thought," I admitted. "Sometimes it's like I just can't read him. I have no idea what he wants from me."

  Lindsey was nodding, slowly. "It's not easy," she said. "I wish I had a simple answer for you, but even I can't get him to open up, most of the time. He has to get there on his own. Most people do, really." She looked off into the distance, thoughtfully. "He's a tough nut to crack, that one."

  The buzzer went off.

  "Well, that was fast," Lindsey said, getting to her feet. "Somebody's getting an extra good tip."

  She flung the door open.

  A voice came into the room from the hallway:

  "Where is he?"

  My heart dropped into my stomach.

  Florence stormed into the room, unkempt and rain-drenched, dripping all over the floor. I must have stared at her like a deer in the headlights. Even knowing what I now knew about her, I still couldn't quite reconcile the sight of her, unhinged like this, with the woman I'd known.

  "Who the fuck are you?" Lindsey demanded, looking like she wasn't sure whether to laugh at her, or punch her in the stomach.

  Florence was already charging towards the staircase. Lindsey ran after her, grabbing her arm and dragging her back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there, crazy. Just where exactly do you think you're going?"

  Florence fought and twisted, her eyes dangerously wild. "I have to talk to him," she insisted. "I have to talk to Daniel. He'll want to see me."

  "Maddy, call the cops." Lindsey was maintaining a vice grip. "I don't think Danny needs to talk to you, honey."

  "DANIEL!" Flo shrieked, loud enough to make me flinch. The bedroom door popped open a few moments later.

  The look on his face was priceless.

  He thundered down the stairs, wearing just his pajama pants, but still managing to look incredibly threatening. I actually took a step back as he reached the main floor, snatching Flo's arm away from his sister's grasp and staring her down.

  "What are you doing here?" he snarled, his chest rising and falling quickly with every breath.

  "I just needed to see you," said Flo, very sweetly, her attitude completely changed. "Your friend here let me right in."

  "I'm his sister," said Lindsey, frostily. "And I was expecting a pizza."

  Flo was giving him the puppy-dog face; it made me feel vaguely sick to my stomach. "I just want to talk to you, Dan. Please. Don't make me do something I'll regret."

  Daniel's jaw twitched. "I'm not afraid of you," he said.

  "Oh, really?" Flo's eyes flickered to Lindsey. "Does she already know?"

  "There's nothing to know," said Daniel, through clenched teeth.

  "Sure, I guess you're right," Florence replied, still looking at Lindsey. "Assuming you're aware that his marriage is a fake."

  Lindsey closed her eyes for a minute, letting out a long, deep sigh.

  "Of course I know," she said. "I'm his big sister, you lunatic."

  Now, everyone in the room was staring at her.

  "We can talk about all that later," said Lindsey, with a dismissive gesture. "The important thing is, are you going to get the fuck out of here and leave him alone for the rest of your natural life? Because if not, you're going to buy yourself a world of hurt."

  "Fine," Florence spat. Daniel let her go, roughly, and she slunk towards the door. "I hope you're very happy together."

  And with that, she was gone.

  Lindsey slammed and locked the door behind her.

  "Unbelievable," she said.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Daniel demanded, walking towards her. "It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble."

  "I don't know," Lindsey replied, indignant. "Does it matter? You're the one with the fake fucking marriage, little brother."

  "I can't believe you," said Daniel, but there was no real hostility in his voice.

  "I can't believe you," she countered. "Lying to your own sister. You should know by now that it never works. Anybody with half a brain can put the pieces together."

  "Well, for your information, I've got my citizenship now."

  "Good for you. You can fool the government, but you can't fool me. Just keep that in mind, okay?"

  She turned and began walking towards her room, but stopped halfway there and turned to look at both of us.

  "Oh - by the way - you two realize you're really in love with each other, right?"

  After she shut the guest room door behind her, Daniel turned to me. "Ignore her," he said. "She's just trying to obnoxious."

  I stared at him. "That's what you feel compelled to comment on? Really?"

  "What else is there to say?"

  I didn't actually have an answer for him.

  The buzzer went off again.

  "That's got to be the pizza, this time," I said.

  Daniel looked through the peep-hole carefully before he opened the door.

  Once the pizza was paid for, he dropped it on the coffee table and sat down, opening the box and reaching for a slice. "Lindsey won't mind, as long as we leave some for her," he said.

  "Stress eating?" I teased, taking a slice for myself.

  "No," he replied, indignantly, around a mouthful of cheese.

  To this day, I'll never know what possessed me to say the next thing that popped out of my mouth.

  "You know, the last time we had pizza together it didn't really end well."

  "I'm aware," he said, drily.

  We both chewed in silence for a moment.

  "I know this doesn't mean much now," he said, "but if I had the chance to start over with this, I'd do things differently."

  "And marry someone else?" I suggested. He didn't say no - but he didn't say yes, either.

  "I let the whole thing go to my head," he said, after a while. "I actually thought…"

  My fingers tightened around the pizza crust I was holding. "You actually thought…?" I prompted.

  He shook his head. "No - no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I've put you in enough unenviable situations as it is."

  "Hey," I said, gently. "I've had a great time, being your wife." I thought of the interview, and our fight. "Well…most of the time."

  He laughed a little. "That's very kind of you to say."

  "I don't just want to walk away from it prematurely," I went on. "I mean, you know…in case something else comes up."

  He shut his eyes for a moment, and then spoke again. "I'm sorry I called you selfish," he said. "I'm the selfish one. I have been from the beginning. You've been very sweet, and kind, and tolerant of the most awkward situation possible. I appreciate everything you've done. I really do. But Maddy-" he hesitated, and took a deep breath. "I can't be around you anymore."

  My pulse was thumping deafeningly in my ears. "Why not?"

  "Do I really have to spell it out for you?" He looked at me, a little disbelieving.

  "I'd really appreciate it," I said, my voice sounding very distant.

  "I like you," he said, simply. "That's all. Better than anyone I've ever really dated. I thought it would be all right, at first - lend an air of authenticity to the whole thing. Couldn't possibly hurt for me to be little bit smitten, could it?"

  I pinched myself.

  "Ow," I said.

  He stared at me. "Did you just pinch yourself?"

  "No," I said. "Are you being serious right now?"

  "Of course I am," he said, gently. "I'm sorry, I thought it was obvious."

  "It was….not," I said. "Obvious. Not at all."

  "Well," he said. "This is awkward."

  I laughed. I had to.

  "So, what…you thought I knew, and I was just toying with your emotions to get in your pants?"

  "It doesn't sound very sensible,
" he said slowly, "when you put it like that."

  "It doesn’t sound very sensible no matter what," I said. "Why on earth would you be so paranoid?"

  "Wait, wait," he said. "So if you weren't toying with me - what, then?"

  My throat constricted. "What do you mean?"

  "Do you…are you…"

  I'd never seen him at such a complete loss for words before. "Relax," I said, finally, putting him out of his misery. "I…I like you, too."

  Being perfectly honest, the word "like" didn't even begin to cover it. But I wasn't going to let myself go there. Not just yet.

  "Maddy..." He looked at me with an expression that was some strange mix of hope and trepidation, mixed with relief, mixed with…

  "Hey," I said. "Let's not get too carried away. We've known each other for what…eight months?"

  "And yet, you're my wife."

  Such simple words, coming out of his mouth - but suddenly, they took on a whole new meaning.

  "I know," I said. "But all the same."

  "All the same," he agreed, his shoulders relaxing a little.

  I leaned back on the sofa and rested against him, letting his arm drape over my shoulders. Just like a real couple. And for once, that thought didn't come with a side of heartache.

  "Oh - Maddy?" he said, after a long silence.

  I stirred. "Yeah?"

  "Please don't tell my sister," he said. "She'll never shut up about being right."

  The guest room door popped open. "I heard that, you jackass."

  Epilogue

  I woke up slowly, to the sun peeking in through the blinds. Stirring in bed, I realized I was wrapped up in a tight embrace.

  "Good morning," Daniel murmured in my ear. I smiled, slowly.

  "G'morning," I managed, as he pressed soft, insistent kisses on the side of my face. I rolled over to face him, not even protesting when he kissed me on the mouth - that was a fight I'd given up long ago, once I was confident that when he said he didn't care about my morning breath, he really, really meant it.

  The scarlet rope was still coiled up on the floor where we'd left it, after last night's activities. Over time, it had grown more smooth and supple, curling around my body like a second skin. I remembered how it had made me feel, mere hours before - how hehad made me feel - and I shivered against the heat of his skin.

  His fingers drifted along my body with a feather-light touch, igniting a slow fire deep inside. I was still sore from last night, but apparently I hadn't gotten enough. I made a quiet, encouraging hmmm as his hand dipped lower.

  I thought he'd known just how to touch me the first time we were together, but he'd only gotten better at reading my body and giving me what I wanted, often before I even knew what it was.

  His fingers slipped between my folds, teasing me. Testing me.

  I slid my leg up over his hip, spreading myself open. He smiled, and I felt his hardness nudge against me. I was still sleepy, but my body was wide awake and ready. I tilted my head back as he slid into me - agonizingly slow, but so perfectly satisfying.

  He filled me up just the same as he'd always done, but the feeling of skin on skin was still new, still intoxicating. I rolled my hips with his movements. He reached down to caress me, his fingers rubbing slow circles just where I needed them. I let out a small noise, my eyelids going heavy. He'd hit the sweet spot, and he knew it. He was watching my expressions carefully, our faces so close that our noses were almost touching.

  Sometimes we played games - ropes and handcuffs, pretending to be people that we weren't. Sometimes he would bring me to the edge and then pull me back, again and again, just to assert himself, to remind me that I could control my own body if he demanded it of me. And I had grown to love those games. As frustrating as they could be, they comforting. Dependable. Intimate.

  But sometimes, there were no games.

  Sometimes it was just us, with no artifice. No mitigations or apologies. I wouldn't necessarily say that I preferred one way to the other, but it was awfully nice to have both.

  This morning, it was just us.

  He was my husband, not my billionaire boss who'd once tried to buy a year of my life. That was our past. Until recently, our future had been unsure. But now, it was clear there was no longer any need for a contract to keep us together.

  I melted into his touch, breathless and quivering in his arms. I'd never understood how he could reduce me to this with just the slow, steady rhythm of his hand - but I certainly wasn't about to complain.

  Then, just like that, I shattered. Somewhere in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure, I felt him thrust deep inside me, one last time, his open mouth connecting with my shoulder, teeth sinking in just far enough to leave a red mark.

  When I blinked back to life, Daniel was smiling and stroking my hair. He kissed the tip of my nose, and I made a face.

  "Happy anniversary," he said, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

  I grinned. "Has it been a year already?"

  "I know," he replied, lightly grabbing a handful of my hair. "It's a shame, isn't it? I don't own you anymore."

  "We'll just have your lawyer draft up something new," I said.

  He chuckled, pulling me close and kissing my forehead.

  "I love you, sweetheart."

  "I love you too," I muttered, against his chest.

  I closed my eyes, and just breathed.

  ***

  Thanks for reading! The saga continues in I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found, available now at Amazon.

  You can follow along with Melanie’s latest releases and get in on some awesome contests at:

  http://melaniemarchande.com/

  ***

  The Last Lord of the Moors

  By Isabella Brooke

  Chapter One

  “Am I Stalin?”

  Helena stared around the room in triumph, waiting for confirmation that she was, indeed, the old communist leader of the Soviet Union.

  “No, dear.” Bet sighed heavily and rolled her eyes with no subtlety whatsoever. The others tittered and Helena snatched the sticky label from her forehead.

  “Gandhi?” she said in surprise. “How did I think I was Stalin?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to work out.” Terry, the regional manager of Gussy’s Builders’ Merchants, shook his head. He leaned his bottom, clad in cheap shiny nylon trousers, against the folding table and looped his thumbs into his pockets, a gesture which he obviously intended to be nonchalant and cool.

  Bet was the office manager at a depot of Gussy’s some thirty miles away, and technically Helena’s mentor for the time being. She sat forward, displacing her ample bosom and making wrinkles in her over-tanned cleavage. “Stalin wasn’t much of a team player. No offence, dear.”

  Helena crumpled the yellow paper in her hand and tossed it straight into the bin, some seven feet away. No one whooped or gave her a score. Already, she was missing her old work colleagues at Head Office. Bri would have challenged her to best-of-three after that goal. Possibly after constructing an obstacle course of wheelie chairs and filing cabinets.

  Still, this move to office manager at the Ingholme depot was a step up from her previous admin role. Even if the team-building and regional-training-day wasn’t quite the warm, fuzzy love-in she had been hoping for, she knew it was a positive move. The previous office manager of the Ingholme depot had run off with a week’s takings and a sales rep from a plywood suppliers, so Helena was stepping into some notorious shoes. It was going to be good to be in charge of a whole branch, rather than just being a lackey filing paperwork at Head Office. Today was a regional training day, her first day as Office Manager at Ingholme, and altogether as excruciating as these team building things always were.

  And it was only half past nine.

  “Okay, folks, let’s wrap this up.” Terry clapped his hands together and stood up straight. “It’s, um, broken the ice a little so that’s great. That’s great. And I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other b
etter going forward. As we touch base.”

  Helena felt her face freeze with the effort of not wincing at Terry’s terrible corporate jargon. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. Instead she felt her gaze stray once again to the clock on the magnolia wall of the training room.

  Not even the second hand appeared to have moved, and she groaned inwardly. Terry was handing out some photocopied sheets of paper and she felt a cold hand of dread as she saw the title: Health and Safety Policy (Updated).

  Worse was that Terry was turning out to be one of those nervous managers who would give out hand-outs, show the exact same information on a projector screen, and then carefully read through every single word, just in case someone really wasn’t grasping the importance of a safe lifting policy. He dimmed the lights and Helena slumped in her chair, crossing her ankles straight out in front of her. As his voice droned and stumbled along she studied the tartan laces in her boots.

  Mercifully, the new policy document was only about ten pages and a lifetime long. Terry couldn’t ignore everyone’s yawns in the overheated room and he was forced to let them have a break. A few people scampered for the outdoor smoking shelter, but Helena just took the chance to stand up and stretch.

  Bet remained seated next to her, her bulk firmly anchored on the plastic chair. Helena decided that she really had to make an effort, so she stood up on tip toes and let her calf muscles ping before saying, as conversationally as she could, “So, tell me about Ingholme, then. It looks like a nice little town.”

  “I live in Jesthorpe, dear.”

  Helena let the “dear” slide. Older women could just about get away with it, but woe betide any man who tried such a word on her; it had much the same effect as “sweetie”, “gorgeous” and “babe.”

  Not that she’d ever been called babe, but she lived in hope, just so she could unleash her inner feminist upon the perpetrator.