Torn_An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Tristan Vaughan

  "We could have just taken surfing lessons in California," I pointed out as his abandoned board washed up next to us.

  He looked horrified. "Have you ever been in the water in Northern California? It's freezing. You should know —Santa Cruz is where they developed the wetsuit."

  I grinned. "You just didn't want to look like a fool in front of people you know."

  Landon shook his head. "Sharks," he said. "The sharks in our stretch of California are the size of small cars."

  I laid my surfboard in the water and prepared to paddle out again. "So we learn here, and then we find the secret beaches in your town. I know there have to be some good ones despite the cold and sharks and other excuses."

  He flopped onto his surfboard and paddled into the low, warm waves next to me. "I'm just glad you suggested this. Half a month without you is just too long."

  "It's not that long of a drive between Santa Cruz and Golden Bluff, especially now that I've got my car fixed."

  Landon pretended to concentrate on the rising surf, but really he just ignored my comment. Mentioning his home immediately brought the shadow of Lyla between us. She had already called eight times that morning.

  We turned to face the beach and I thought about his phone waiting underneath his towel, probably full of disapproving messages. Landon sat up on his board, egg-beating his legs to face the Diamond Head volcano instead of the beach. Despite Lyla's interruptions, he was relaxed, a golden god in the sunshine, and for now he was all mine.

  "Last one to the beach has to make the Mai Tais," I called. A wave rose up behind me and I paddled hard. It lifted me, the pull of the water almost as powerful as my attraction to Landon. I jumped up and rode the wave, wishing it was that easy to skim over the hard bumps of our budding relationship.

  * * * * *

  Landon's head dropped against the leather seat of the limo and then snapped upright again. He rubbed the back of his head and fought off a yawn with a wide grin. "The next winery specializes in sparkling wines. We can sit on the terrace and have fresh strawberries with every sip."

  First the limousine, then the slow-winding, delicious tour of Napa Valley. It was too much. Landon was clearly exhausted from his last business flight. I hadn't even asked what corner of the world he’d just returned from. Instead of a peaceful weekend at Golden Bluff, he had planned a wine-tasting getaway and refused to let me pay for a thing.

  "Let me get this one, okay?" I asked.

  Landon's eyes crinkled in a pained smile. "I told you this was my treat. Does it make you feel any better knowing that Andrew got me two complimentary tastings at this place?"

  It did, but as the limousine turned up the elegant drive to a stone building designed to look like a Tuscan villa, my stomach dropped. Anna had laughed at me for worrying about all the romantic trips. All I wanted was a normal relationship, a solid base for the ever-building feelings I had for Landon. He just didn't seem to know how to do that and it worried me. Maybe Landon didn't want the same kind of relationship I kept picturing.

  He helped me out of the limousine, and we paused on the crushed white coral of the circular driveway. "Wow, look at that place," he said, pointing to a sun-soaked Spanish mansion on the valley's crest.

  "Please tell me that's not where we're staying," I said.

  He turned to me. "What's the matter?"

  I fought off the frustrated tears. "This is all too much. I don't need this. I just wanted to spend the weekend with you."

  Landon kissed me and gathered me close. "Let's skip the sparkling wine and settle into our hideaway."

  My stomach was a writhing knot of unspoken worries until he led me up a wooded path far away from the Tuscan villa. High up in the shaded woods was a dark green circular tarp.

  "A yurt?" I burst out laughing.

  "We can split the cost for less than a bottle of wine, but like I said, Andrew got us a deal." Landon caught me in his arms again. "Is this okay?"

  "It's perfect," I said and melted against him with a kiss.

  * * * * *

  "I've never been in your car before. I like it." Landon craned his head to admire the short lace curtains that brushed the top over every window.

  My car was small and old, so it needed other good points. I had tried hard to add a festive feel to the cheap, gray cloth interior. Lace curtains, silver mirror stars stuck to the roof, fluffy lambswool seat covers, and slim flower vases glued to the dash made it much more fun to drive.

  "It's what I can afford," I said.

  Landon shrugged the uncomfortable comment off and looked out the window. "Can you imagine if I added some flare to the inside of my town car? James would turn a sick shade of purple, I'm sure."

  "What does James do when you’re out of the country?" I asked.

  We drove along the coast to a private airstrip just outside Half Moon Bay. Landon was leaving on yet another business trip, and he had a grim set to his jaw.

  "Sometimes he comes with me, you know, drives on the other side of the road so I don't have to. But mostly he just putters around in the garages," Landon said.

  "He feels at home there," I said, glancing out the corner of my eye at Landon.

  "I think so." Landon concentrated on the entrance to the private airport and pointed out the turn.

  We drove up to the Michel Hangar in silence. My little gray car was a mouse among the bright white hawk-like private jets. Landon checked his watch eight times while navigating me through the giant doors. I drove across the wide expanse and parked next to a glossy Learjet.

  Landon took off his sunglasses and looked all around. Besides the two attendants near the steps and a few workers, the hangar was empty. Lyla would pull up at any minute in her sleek town car, but for now, he could relax.

  "Walk me up?" he asked and nodded at the jet.

  I nodded and shut off my car. He opened the door for me and took my arm. We walked up the narrow steps and my mouth dropped open.

  "It's bigger than my apartment," I said.

  Landon smiled and tugged me inside.

  Before I could take in the sumptuous white leather seats, the thick luxurious carpet, and the polished wood tables and storage, Landon pulled me into a fiery kiss.

  My body responded, pressing into his before I could catch my breath. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself up to contour against him. His hands gripped and flexed against my lower back, cupping me to him with greedy strokes.

  "God, I can't keep doing this," Landon groaned.

  My heart felt suddenly heavy. "What?"

  "Leaving you. How can I let go of this?"

  I kissed him again, searching for the words to describe the joy I felt. "I'll miss you too," I managed to say between long, quenching tastes of him.

  "Can you come with me? It's London. You'd love London." Landon tangled his hands in my hair and held my gaze.

  I was lost in the stormy undertow of his deep blue eyes. Landon was more than a dream come true —he was the dream I never thought could exist. Every inch of me wanted to give in, but a small part of me stayed firm. What I wanted was real. Solid, steady, like the happiness I’d had at home with Mom and Grandpa. This was all surging waves and unsteady footing.

  "I'll see you when you get back," I said.

  * * * * *

  "Riley, hon, wake up. Riley. Come on." Anna's voice drifted over the swirling lecture notes from my last class.

  I woke with a start and sat up at our small dining room table. I could feel the pen ink on my cheek and dabbed at it with fuzzy motor skills. "I'm awake," I mumbled.

  "It's three in the morning. When are you going to bed?" she asked.

  "He's coming this weekend. I've got to get all of this done ahead of time."

  Anna marched to the dining area in her oversized sleep shirt and scowled at everything I’d spread out on the table. Textbooks stood in towers around my laptop and two notebooks full of scribbles were propped up against my stomach. Far in the corner was a half-eaten sandwich sliding
off a plate.

  "You can't keep this up, Riley," Anna said.

  "But he's worth it, Anna." I held up a hand. "You know it's not about the money or his lifestyle. Those are our biggest obstacles. This," I gestured to the mess of classwork, "this is nothing."

  "You work double shifts, you stay up all night, and you never miss class. That's all amazing, but it's going to kill you." She put her hands on her hips. "You need to let him know you can't keep up these weekend adventures."

  "It's the only way I get to see him." I slumped down in my chair. "What am I supposed to do? Tell him to get a less involved job so we can sit around on Wednesday nights and eat pizza on the couch?"

  Anna flopped down in the dining room chair next to me. "Isn't that what you really want? Homemade spaghetti Tuesdays. Remember that pasta your mom used to make?"

  I blinked hard. "I know, but I think I'm falling for him."

  I let my head drop back down on my textbooks and felt the tears come.

  Anna rubbed my back and heaved a big sigh. "That's supposed to be happy news."

  "How can it be, when we obviously don't fit into each other's lives?" I wanted to bury my head under the pages and hibernate.

  "Shit." Anna picked up my phone. "He's calling."

  "Hi," I said, not daring my tearful voice to handle anything more.

  "Riley, god, it's great to hear your voice. Look, I'm on my way, but I'm stuck in New York for at least another twelve hours. There's one hell of a snowstorm here. No wonder you ran for the West Coast." Landon's voice was tired but cheerful.

  "I'm sorry you’re stuck," I said. "I'll be here whenever you get to town."

  Anna gave me a thumbs up. She didn't leave as Landon and I said our goodbyes, and as soon as I hung up the phone, she snatched it from my hand. "And now you can catch up on your sleep."

  * * * * *

  It turned out Landon had to leave directly from New York to meet Lyla in Boston. The Michel Fund was especially busy around the holidays with charity benefits and large in-person donations. I hadn't expected us to spend Christmas together, but I was sad thinking about how Landon described Golden Bluff decorated for the holidays.

  Every time we talked, he was tired and shied away from any mention of Golden Bluff. It felt like his business suits were an armor that deflected any mention of the place I knew he wanted to be. Since Anna had woken me up at the dining room table, all I could think about was Landon's job. He hated it. Not the work, but the way it was handled. The constant, churning schedule exhausted him, and he hadn't been in Michel's Beach in over a month.

  So when a large belated Christmas gift arrived from Landon, all I could do was burst into tears.

  "What is it?" Anna asked.

  I pulled out the Bonsai tree. It was a cypress pine, pruned into a perfect, windswept reach. The miniature tree looked exactly like the line of trees high above Golden Bluff.

  The handwritten note read, Wish we were there.

  "Oh, Riley, it's perfect." Anna clutched her hands over her heart.

  When the doorbell rang, we both jumped two feet in the air. Owen swung the door open and marched in. "Merry Christmas!" he called.

  "You missed it," Anna said.

  I rushed over to give him a hug. Since I’d been dating Landon, my friendship with Owen had been improving.

  "Then Happy New Year," Owen said with a smile. "It should never be too late to say that. Hey, awesome bonsai. That's perfect for you, Riley."

  "Thanks," I said. "It just arrived from Landon."

  Owen's smile widened. "Good for him. First presents are always hard." He held out a bottle of red wine. "Thought you two might like this."

  Anna thanked him and politely offered him a glass. Owen stayed and chatted, mostly about himself. In the midst of some success story from his new job, I heard my phone buzz. Landon's text said he was twenty minutes away and hoped I was home.

  "Anyway, I don't want to bug you." Owen finished his glass of wine and stood up. "I really just wanted to swing by and say Happy New Year to my New York girls."

  Anna shut the door behind Owen and gave me a quizzical look. "He's just trying to be your buddy now?" she asked.

  "Yeah. He's been calling just to 'catch up' lately. Do you think it’s weird?" I stood up and inched toward my room to change clothes.

  "Weird, but maybe good," she replied.

  * * * * *

  "Cheers to that beautiful bonsai you sent me." I tapped my wine glass against Landon's.

  We sat in the dining room of the first restaurant we had tried when we ran into each other in Santa Cruz. A winter storm had kept most everyone home except for the real locals. The tabloid photographers had given up, and we had a quiet corner near the fireplace all to ourselves.

  "I'm glad you like it," Landon said. "God, it feels good to be back in California."

  "Have you talked to Lyla about your schedule?" I asked.

  The loaded question settled hard over the conversation. Landon had been avoiding the subject for over a month, and I had never brought it up so sharply.

  "Is that Owen?" Landon's eyes skimmed away from me and over to the bar. He waved at my ex-boyfriend, who came over to the table. "Have a seat, Owen, stay for a glass."

  I squirmed as Owen gave us both a friendly smile. What was he up to? Owen and Landon chatted like old friends, and it was all I could do to smile and nod.

  "Well, I'll let you get back to your dinner," Owen finally said. He stood up and shook Landon's hand. "I know you two are trying to spend as much time together as possible. Good luck with that."

  "Wow," I breathed when Owen walked away. "He’s way different from how he used to be when he saw me on dates."

  Landon raised an eyebrow. "It’s nice to see that he’s changed for the better."

  I drummed my fingers on the white linen tablecloth until Landon caught them. "I'm glad you're home," I said.

  He raised my fingertips to his lips and smiled. "Me, too."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Landon

  Lyla appeared in the arching door of her office as soon as I set foot in our satellite headquarters, an office about an hour north of Santa Cruz. We’d put the satellite headquarters together once the affordable housing venture had gotten established —it was part of the job I’d given to Owen.

  Lyla stood ramrod straight in a gray pencil skirt and matching jacket, her shoes so pointed they looked like weapons. As soon as I looked at her, she stepped back and held her arm out.

  "A word in my office, please," she said. It wasn't a question and it certainly did not feel like an invitation.

  Of course, she wasn't away from her desk at lunch. What had I been thinking? I knew exactly what I’d been thinking about —Riley, where we could meet next, and how I would travel to the ends of the earth just for a weekend with her.

  I stopped in Lyla's doorway. "Mind if we meet in my office instead? I could use a drink."

  Sure enough, Lyla's nose wrinkled with disdain. This wasn't a business meeting; she was just looking for yet another opportunity to lecture me. "It's barely past noon."

  "Oh, so you did notice it was lunchtime, just checking." I lingered in the doorway as if I might not stay. "Wow, this place is the mirror image of your office at the house, down to the white rugs and all the sharp metals. You've got something against being cozy?"

  Lyla walked around her stark desk and settled into her chair. She folded her hands and pursed her lips.

  "I'm going to go ahead and stop you right there." I marched into the middle of the room and held up a hand. "If this doesn't have anything to do with monthly projections or financial reviews, then I don't want to hear about it."

  "Says the man sauntering into the office at noon to grab a drink," she said in a snippy voice. She smoothed her hair and took a deep breath. "This directly affects work."

  "What's that?" I growled.

  "The amount of time you’re spending with this Riley woman."

  "Goddammit, Lyla, that's enough."
>
  She gave a little jump at my sharp tone, then laid her hands flat on the desk and stood up. "Landon, I really have your best interests at heart."

  My laugh was brittle. "You don't even know me. You've been trying so hard to stuff me into some imaginary mold that you have no idea who I am anymore."

  Lyla's eyes flickered to an artfully arranged trio of white picture frames on the wall. The black and white photographs were not stylish antiques as I’d originally thought. I followed her gaze and looked closer. The middle photo showed us as children, loaded with camping gear. Our parents insisted that we carry everything up to middle camp ourselves, and the entire way we used to joke about how they talked about it “building character.”

  She cleared her throat and sat back down. "I'm sorry you feel like I'm pushing too hard, but this is all business that should have been taken care of five years ago. You should be fully in control by now. If you had just focused a little harder, we wouldn't be in this position."

  I slumped into one of the uncomfortable hard chairs across from her desk. "And what position is that? I know you think I've been slacking off and resisting all my responsibilities, but I'll have you know that I read every damn report you send along. It looks to me like most of our business portfolio can take care of itself."

  She sneered. "Take care of itself?"

  "Yes." I sat forward. "I have an idea for projection models that will generate reports and recalibrate when necessary. It'll be a revolutionary money management tool."

  She shook her head as if to clear it. "That's very interesting and I —no, we —need to stay focused. I'm not sure that's what your family intended, letting you put the whole Michel legacy on autopilot."

  "You've got the drive, Lyla, everyone knows that. You want to take the company further, make more money, and really prove something to the world. That's you, not me."

  "Oh, I get it," she said. "You want to go straight from jet-setting playboy to heralded family historian and skip all the hard work in between."