Billionaire in Rehab: The Complete Series

by Claire Adams

  I did not hold my breath. It just wasn't there. When it came back, I said. "I love that. I love that for you."

  Dana Maria patted my cheek, hard. "And you, too, baby brother. I love that for you, too. Except you had to go ahead and have the fireworks."

  "No," I said. "Think about it. Don't you think everything you just said is what Kya's saying about Jackson McRay? They're the ones that fit together. He just appeared in her life and he actually fits her life."

  "Why would you say that?" Dana Maria asked.

  I flinched thinking maybe her sisterly pat was going to turn into a slap. "Because I heard her say it. I accidentally overheard Kya tell Sandi that Jackson McRay is the man she is supposed to choose."

  "What? That's what you think?" Sandi asked.

  "Is everyone eavesdropping on me?" I asked. I stood up and faced everyone in the suite.

  "The patio doors are wide open, man," Kev said.

  "You were there, you heard the same thing," I reminded him.

  "Well, I was there, too, and I was actually the one that Kya was talking to, so let me set you straight," Sandi said. She propped her tiny fists on her slim hips. "Kya said that Jackson McRay is the one she is supposed to choose. But you are the one she desires."

  "Oooh," Dana Maria said. She fanned herself. "Now tell me which one you'd rather be."

  "That doesn't mean she's going to choose me," I said. "He's the better choice, right?"

  Dana Maria looked ill. "Not from what I hear."

  "Not from what we've seen," Kev muttered.

  I waved a hand to cut him off. "What have you heard, Sis?"

  "He's been down to my club a few times, thankfully, not while I was on. At first, the girls were all excited. They fought over him. You know, nice-looking rich guy in suave clothes. They all thought he was Prince Charming."

  I could not keep still and started pacing. "So, what made them change their minds?"

  "He'd tell them all the people he knew, hint at all the ways he could get them fired or worse, then he was all hands. The bouncers were on him right away, but some of the girls were too afraid to call them. He thought he could do whatever he wanted."

  "I'm going to kill him," I said.

  "No, don't worry about it," Dana Maria said. "The girls aren't stupid. Word's spread and no one is going near him. Jackson McRay is his own STD as far as the women of Las Vegas are concerned."

  "Ugh, it’s always the all-American handsome ones that are the misogynists," Sandi said.

  "Don't worry, honey, that's not me," Kev said. "Well, except for the handsome part." He turned to me. "Guess we don't have to worry about people not believing us anymore. Turns out lots of people know what a slime ball Jackson McRay is."

  "Except Kya," I said.

  I charged for the door. Kev stepped in front of me. "Forget about Jackson McRay. I'll leak the story. We'll get some of Dana Maria's girls to speak out. He'll be ruined. You don't need to go down with him."

  "I'm not going to fight him. I'm not going anywhere near Jackson," I said.

  "You have to report to the arena in an hour. You're not going anywhere," Kev said.

  "Fenton, forget about it. It’s just a distraction," Dana Maria said.

  "Move, Kev. You know I have to see her," I said.

  Kev nodded and stepped aside. "Tell Kya we'll see her at the fight."

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Kya

  "Hello, beautiful. Aren't you going to invite me in?" Jackson asked. His bright white teeth flashed when he smiled.

  Jackson was hard to resist. His tan skin, his warm brown eyes, the square jaw, he was the picture of the perfect man. He was also tall with broad shoulders. His biceps were well defined, his stomach flat and hard. He was stronger and more intimidating than his pastel shirts and friendly smile suggested.

  I felt a cold chill despite his warm smile. "Actually, I would, but I'm just on my way out. I'd love if you wanted to walk me out," I said.

  "I know, I know, the big title fight. I suppose you do have to go support your other client. Don't worry, you still have plenty of time," Jackson said. "Why not enjoy the view from your suite one more time? I mean, your boss wouldn't want it to go to waste while he's paying for it, would he?"

  "I'm sorry, really," I said. "I promised some friends I would meet them early."

  "Your friends will understand. Just tell them I wouldn't take no for an answer," he said. He stepped forward and put a wide hand on the suite door. "Come on, nothing wrong with us spending a little time together."

  "Fine, let's go have a drink out by the pool. It’s one of my favorite spots. Where we first met for the second time." I tried to laugh, but it got caught in my throat. I almost choked.

  He pushed hard against the door and stepped past me. If I stood my ground, he would have just shoved me aside. So instead, I shuffled back and had to welcome him inside. It suddenly seemed important not to upset him. Jackson smiled and there was still warmth in his brown eyes, but there was a sharpness, an impatience to him that put me on edge.

  "I brought you a bottle of champagne. I knew you'd finally be alone, what with your other client off getting ready for his big moment. I think we should celebrate."

  "Celebrate what?" I asked. The suite was isolated. There were no other guests on the floor that day. I did not like to think about how the soundproofing had already been tested by loud parties.

  Jackson reached in his pocket and pulled out a manila envelope. "Here's the signed contract. Our business is finalized and that means we can put it aside. Now that it's done, we don't have to be so businesslike, either. We don't have to celebrate as colleagues – I don't want to be just your colleague."

  "This is wonderful. I'll call my boss right away and tell him the good news. Like you said, get all the business out of the way," I said. I gripped the phone hard to stop my hand from trembling.

  Jackson shook his head and reached for my phone. "Don't you think your boss would be really upset if you didn't close this deal? I mean, you'd have unhappy clients, and from what I've heard, the power tool people are longstanding clients of your boss. They'd all be unhappy if you messed this up somehow."

  "And, how would I mess it up?" I asked. "I know things have been a little crazy here in Las Vegas, but the contract is sound and you have no objections. So, what is the problem?"

  He dangled the signed contract high in the air. "I don't know. I'd like to say I'm a satisfied client. I'd like to think you've taken care of me."

  "Is there something you want me to change? Let's go down to the hotel's business center and we can review the contract while we get my boss on a conference call," I said.

  I headed for the door, but Jackson caught my arm and turned me around. "So professional, so polished. It’s very attractive. I like a woman who likes to get things done. Tie everything up in a pretty bow. That's why I can see a future with you, Kya. You know how to make everything look and sound so perfect."

  "Thanks," I said. It was hard to tell what Jackson was thinking. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I was just nervous because of Fenton's fight. All I knew was that my skin was crawling, and I did not want to be alone with him. "Well, if everything is fine with the contract, then I demand you let me take you out to celebrate. My boss would be mad if I made you settle for a quick drink in my suite. Especially one that you brought yourself."

  Jackson held on to my arm, shook his head and smiled. "No, I think it’s my choice. I've made you happy by signing the contract, and now it’s your turn to make me happy." He set the champagne down on the coffee table and drew me towards the master bedroom.

  My jaw dropped, but I could not force a sound out. I wrenched my arm free, unable to pretend anymore. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

  "I'm suggesting, no, demanding as you said, that you stop teasing me and give me what we both want," he said.

  "This is not what I want. I want you to leave," I said.

  Jackson's smile disappeared. "Don't be like that, Kya, don't think you
get something for nothing. You've got my business, the commission, and you've got me. Now, how about a kiss? Just a little kiss, to start."

  "No. To start? Do you hear yourself? What do you think you're doing? I don't trade contracts for sexual favors, and I'm disgusted that you think that."

  "Disgusted? I'm disgusted at the way you tease me. Do you really think you can get away with that? I know you want me. I'm practically bachelor of the goddamn year. So, when I say I want a kiss, the least you can do is give me a kiss."

  "Is that what you asked Sienna for? When you cornered her at the golf luncheon? And to think I believed you," I said.

  I backed away around the coffee table and tried to aim for the door. Jackson lunged and grabbed for my arm, but I twisted away at the last second. He stumbled and slammed his shin against the glass coffee table. I saw his face turn crimson before I turned and ran.

  He made it to the door one step behind me and slammed his hands on either side of my head. He pounded them on the door a second time, for terrifying effect. I cringed against the door and felt panic cloud my thinking.

  His breath was on my neck, but I forced myself to stop and think. Then, I ducked down and ran for my discarded phone. I scooped it up, but it was no comfort. Jackson had turned it off before he set it aside, and I had been pressing frantically at a blank screen. I turned it on and faced him.

  His cheerful chuckle froze the blood in my veins. "And who exactly are you going to call? Your boss is thousands of miles away and will be more annoyed that you are compromising the deal than he will be concerned about your sudden chastity. Your big bad fighter is already at the arena. And, face it, whoever you call is not going to believe you, anyway."

  "I'm calling the police," I said.

  Jackson lunged at me again, and he knocked my shoulder as I turned. I stumbled off balance and saved myself on the edge of the couch. He was right behind me, his hands clamping around my waist. I started to pummel his chest with my fists, but all he did was chuckle again.

  That is, until the front door of the suite splintered open. Fenton charged through the broken door and headed straight for Jackson.

  Jackson backed off with his hands up, palms open. "Now, look what a mess you're gonna make poor Kya clean up. I'm telling you, he's no good for you."

  "Fenton, I'm so glad you're here. I'm so sorry," I stopped when he waved me into silence. Jackson still stood between us, and Fenton was concentrating on his opponent.

  "This is ridiculous and you know it," Jackson said. "What, are you really going to waste your chance at the title standing around here trying to accuse me of something that will never in a million years stick?"

  "You're not above the law," Fenton said.

  "No, but I know an awful lot of people that create the law, uphold it, and defend it. Face it, someone like me is untouchable, especially for someone like you," Jackson said.

  "Not with witnesses," I said.

  "Just you? Of course you're going to take your lover's side. It will never hold up. It looks like you two banded together to con me into this endorsement deal," Jackson tossed the signed contract on the coffee table.

  "I know you did something to Sienna. Fenton and his manager saw it," I said.

  "Again, a conspiracy," he said.

  "Then, what about all those dancers at my sister's club?" Fenton asked. "You really didn't think they would talk to each other, band together against a threat? You're banned, the word is out, and they will have no problem making statements against you."

  "No one is going to believe that bunch of whores," Jackson said.

  Fenton lunged for him, his first kick landed on the side of Jackson's knee. Jackson cried out in pain but stood his ground and tossed a series of wild punches at Fenton.

  The air fled my lungs. Fenton was going to get hurt before his title fight, and it would be all my fault. He was going to lose the title because of me. I could not let it happen.

  Neither man saw me as they locked together, each determined to see the other bleed. I jumped over the white couch and grabbed the bottle of champagne Jackson had brought in. I stood up on the white cushions and waited for an opening.

  Fenton slammed an upper cut into Jackson’s gut and I knew the next punch in the combination was a right hook to his cheek. Fenton could not afford to bruise or possibly break his knuckles on Jackson's face. So, I raised the champagne bottle high in the air and swung it down as hard I could.

  There was a sickening thud, and Jackson crumbled. Fenton froze, his clouded blue eyes confused. Then, he blinked and saw me.

  "Please tell me he's not dead," I said.

  Fenton leaned down to check Jackson's pulse. "Not dead, not even fractured. Too bad."

  He stood up, and I launched myself from the couch into his arms. "Thank you, thank you. I can't believe you came. I'm so sorry. Oh, Fenton, I never would have forgiven myself if you had gotten hurt. Oh my God, the fight! You have to go."

  Fenton held me, his hand smoothing down my hair. "Shh, it's fine. You took him out in the first round. We have plenty of time. Are you okay?"

  I felt my body shaking but the strength of his arms soon dispelled it. "I'm fine. You came for me. Wait, why did you come here?"

  His lips curled into a smile inches from mine. "I came to see you. I wanted to make sure you were safe. Dana Maria told me about Jackson, and after what I saw with Sienna, I was worried."

  "Oh," I said. I loosened my hold on his neck. "Thank you."

  Fenton shook his head and laughed. He brushed a soft kiss across my lips. "I came for you. Turns out you were right. You said in your message last night that you had good luck. Well, I want some of it. Hell, I want you."

  "You can have all my good luck. I don't believe in it anymore. I just believe in you."

  Click here to continue to my next book.

  Get Each of My Newly Released Books for 99 Cents By Clicking Here

  Click here to get my book Swipe for free

  LOUD

  The Complete Series

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams

  CHAPTER ONE

  Brooke

  Moving sucks. However, it has become something of a tradition for me. I’ve moved more times than I care to think about. So many times, in fact, that I’ve adapted to look at it as a reinvention of myself, a new leaf to turn, a blank page that I can use to rewrite my life. Instead of dreading it, I have come to use it as a new start.

  Not that I had much choice in the matter growing up, with my dad having been in the military and being stationed all over the place. Don’t get me wrong, it was great in a lot of ways. I mean, not only did I get to experience different cities and different states, but also I got to live in a few different countries.

  Of course, there were aspects of it that kind of sucked, too. I never got to make the kind of solid, lasting friendships that kids get to make when they grow up in one location. I admit, I was rather envious when I saw other kids my age and their best friends who they'd known for most of their lives. I wanted those kind of connections. But even with social media and cell phones, those connections always faded. Then there was my first real high school boyfriend — I had to leave him behind just about the time things were starting to settle in and get to the good part. So, yeah, moving isn’t always ideal, but life is what you make it. Or, so I’m told.

  So, I find myself moving once again. Only this time, it has nothing to do with my dad getting orders to yet another Air Force base. Nope, this time it was my choice. And it was the right choice, considering the circumstances that led to it. Granted, if I wanted to maintain any level of self-respect, it was the only choice I really had after what he did to me. He who should not be spok
en of. I didn't want to think about him, about that, about the place we shared together, about the trust I put in him, about the stability I'd longed for and thought I had finally found. That is, until it was all ripped away.

  “Helloooo. Earth to Brooke! C'mon, I can't get this sofa off the back of this truck by myself, girl!”

  Leslie.

  The sound of her voice brought a smile to my face. I guess I did have some stability, after all. There's nothing quite like a best friend to distract you from a broken heart. Especially, when she's as bubbly as Leslie. Okay, maybe bubbly isn’t the right way to describe her. Maybe a little left of center in the best way possible is more accurate.

  “Sorry, Les, I was just-”

  “Daydreamin', girl, like always!”

  She rolled her eyes at me in that melodramatic manner that she is known — and loved — for. It’s really not a huge surprise to anyone who’s ever known her that she's majoring in drama. She'll land a part as soon as she graduates, I have no doubt.

  I snapped myself out of the turmoil of thoughts and emotions crashing through my head and hurried over to help Leslie get the sofa off the truck.

  “I’m coming. Don’t get too excited. Just hold on before you hurt yourself!”

  I clambered up onto the tailgate of the truck and moved toward the cab, maneuvering around the 1970s iconic sofa. I squatted down low before I slid my hands into position and gripped the underside of the big piece of furniture. My dad’s voice played through my mind — always use your legs to lift, not your back. I grinned a little to myself at the thought.

  “Okay, Les, are you ready?” I asked.

  She positioned herself at the edge of the truck's bed, clutched her side of the sofa tight, and gritted her teeth.

  “I got this,” she assured me. “Been doing squats at gym with Antonio. I'm ready, as ready as I've ever been!” Her over-the-top enthusiasm made me laugh. Especially considering I could barely see her face peeking over the top of the clunky sofa from her squatting position.