No Dreams Allowed: A Billionaire Romance

by Sonora Seldon

  I let out a long breath, relieved as hell that the big hurdle of the night was past. Dave left the podium and strolled up and down the stage, nodding and waving. He called out to this person and that in the crowd, he beamed a dialed-down version of Public Smile at everyone in sight, and he barely glanced around as his dad emerged from backstage.

  The schedule said they’d be off the stage after one more announcement, some posing together for the cameras, and maybe a few ad-libbed words of thanks for everybody’s tax dollars – then I’d get back out on the floor with Dave, we’d hurry through as little post-speech mingling as we could get away with …

  … and then we’d go back to his sky-high apartment and break every bed in the place.

  Nervous and trembling from the high of his speech and the anticipation of what would happen between us once we were alone, I decided a few minutes of sitting down and pulling myself together was in order.

  An abandoned chair occupied one end of the platform, so I dropped into it. I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and put together some relaxing thoughts.

  Cassie, he’ll peel every stitch of clothing off you, he’ll think you look amazing naked and not too heavy at all, and then he’ll be on and in you, and …

  Yes, I am terrible at calming myself down when anticipating bed-breaking sex.

  My eyes opened as the voices of Dave and his dad echoed once more over the sound system, providing the networks or the internet or whoever with crisp little sound bites as they stood together at the podium – “my father is one of the great industrialists leading us forward into a limitless future,” “David has my complete confidence as we move to secure the foundations of this country for all its citizens,” blah, bullshit, blah, bullshit.

  I spotted Kristen halfway across the ballroom, threading her way through the crowd in my general direction, and I waved at her. She had to be relieved that the show was winding down, and so was I – on the big screen I saw a fine edge of tension in Dave’s clenched jaw, and his brilliant smile grew more brittle by the minute. It was subtle so far, nothing that a stranger would notice – but to me, the strain was showing.

  Dave’s dad clamped his right hand around the microphone and waved for silence with his left – the crowd subsided reluctantly because drunks don’t like their fun being interrupted, cameras flashed a few more times, and then Emperor Dallstrom spoke up once more, as his left hand now reached for Dave’s shoulder and pulled him in closer.

  Afraid he’ll run away, Dad?

  “Folks, I have an announcement to make now, one that is vital to the future of Dallstrom Defense Systems – and that means it’s damn well vital to the future of our country as well, so listen up.”

  I lurched to my feet, because why not – this had to be almost over, right? Kristen had said their dad would probably be announcing some new official position for Dave at the company and we could hope it was some figurehead thing that wouldn’t suck up too much of his time and his nerves, and why was Kristen now actively pushing through the people around her, intent on getting to me right this minute?

  “David Connor Dallstrom is not only my son, but also the bedrock my life and my fortunes are built on – and as of this moment, he is also the man who will steer the fortunes of Dallstrom Defense Systems into the future, as he becomes our new Director of Operations!”

  Way to totally leave out your daughter, asshole – the daughter who now speared the heel of one shoe into some poor guy’s instep to get him out of her way, what the hell?

  Hundreds of party-goers clapped and cheered, Dave forced an even wider fake smile onto his face, and Kristen broke free of the crowd. She launched herself onto the little platform in two loping strides and stood beside me.

  “Cassie, I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t know!”

  Triumphant music blared from the giant speakers all over the ballroom, bursts of confetti drifted down from the rafters, and I had to shout at Kristen over the din.

  “Didn’t know what? We figured he’d be getting named to some official position, right? Is the Director of Operations thing some kind of huge time sink or something, or does it mean he’ll have to –”

  Her blue eyes brimmed with pain. “I didn’t know, and I swear on our mom’s life that Dave doesn’t know! He’d never have agreed to do all this if he knew, Cassie, believe me!”

  A tear ran down her cheek, she was scaring me to death, my heart pounded and people shouted, and Einar Dallstrom’s voice bellowed into everyone’s ears.

  “And now I have a surprise announcement for you, and it’s the most important one of the night! Are you ready to hear some good news?”

  The crowd roared that it damn well was ready to hear all about it, and Dave’s dad shouted over them to add, “And this surprise announcement comes with a surprise guest as well, so let’s welcome her to the stage right now!”

  Her?

  I’ll never forget the moment when Dave realized that this wasn’t just one more piece of public relations bullshit.

  His broad fake smile wavered and vanished. He glanced at his dad, he looked over his shoulder at the curtains behind the stage, and his face filled the giant HD screen as he turned to look for me.

  I froze in place. I stared. Kristen grabbed my shoulder and wailed again that she hadn’t known, that Dave hadn’t known, and Einar Dallstrom spoke, his voice filling the room and the world.

  “I’d like to announce my son David’s engagement and I’d like you all to meet his lovely fiancée, Ilona Szörnyeteg!”

  My worst nightmare swept onto the stage, chin high and eyes deathly cold.

  “This union between our two families represents the beginning of a bold new future for us all! And isn’t this young woman the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? Let’s hear it for her, people!”

  Ilona Szörnyeteg walked to the podium as applause exploded through the room. Glistening and gorgeous and perfect, she slid up on Dave’s left and slipped her hand through his arm. She aimed a regal smile at the crowd, a smile that was a degree or two above absolute zero.

  She never even looked at Dave.

  Einar Dallstrom stayed locked in place on his son’s right, one hand still clamped onto Dave’s shoulder. “From this day forward, these two will stand at the head of an alliance of business and cultural interests that span the globe! I am proud of them beyond words – and now’s the time to let them know how you feel, because I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

  An avalanche of noise filled the room, the building, the city. Squeals and whistles and shouting, rhythmic chants and clapping and stomping, music dialed up to eardrum-shattering levels, and Dave …

  He stared at that Szörnyeteg bitch’s hand as if it was a rattlesnake curling around his arm. He gaped up at the crowd for a second and then stared back down at the long, razor-like pink nails digging into his sleeve.

  Time stopped and my heart wanted to stop. What was happening? Why? Did the world give a shit about any of us?

  Then a single earsplitting shrill of feedback howled through the speakers, and that broke the spell.

  Dave’s head whipped to the right and he reached toward his dad, grabbing for the microphone.

  Einar Dallstrom switched off the microphone, unplugged it from the podium, and tossed it into the crowd.

  The red-faced father mouthed something at his son that I couldn’t possibly hear, and Dave turned to yell something else I couldn’t hear at a sound guy who was fiddling with the controls of the nearest speaker. The floor shook, the music thundered, people shrieked like only happy drunks can, balloons and twisting spirals of ribbons and more god-awful confetti filled the air, and Kristen grabbed at me, trying to pull me away somewhere – where?

  I was in shock and not thinking straight, I looked in every direction and didn’t see anything, and the last clear image I remember from that ballroom is of Dave looking up with the aching slowness of a dream, searching for me. I think he saw me, he might have shouted at me, but I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hea
r him, I couldn’t understand what was happening, and I couldn’t deal with the world dropping out from under me – again.

  All I could do was run.

  17

  I fled the platform, tearing away from Kristen and plunging into the crowd. Elbowing and pushing, shoving and turning sideways and bulling through people on the strength of sheer panic, I made it out of the ballroom to a hallway. The music and cheering fell away behind me as I turned one corner, then another, and no, I had no idea where I was going.

  I was just going away.

  Past doors and elevators and stairways, I ran and ran. Janitors and maintenance workers gaped at me as I pounded past them, I lost a shoe at one point and kicked off the other, and I kept running.

  My phone sang out in my pocket and I shut it off. I turned a corner and crashed headlong into a security guard, a huffing older guy who almost fell flat on his considerable ass. He grabbed my arm, I yanked free of his grip, and I sprinted down the corridor and away.

  Away, always away. There was no other way to go.

  A service elevator slid into view as I rounded another corner, the doors closing. Momentum said to go for it, so I burst through just in time, thumping to a stop against the back wall. The kitchen worker already in the elevator hung onto her wheeled cart full of dirty dishes and looked over at me as the doors closed. After a long stare, she shrugged, looked away again, and said nothing. Hey, stuff happens.

  Two floors later, Kitchen Lady got on with her life and I was alone in the elevator. I stabbed the button for the parking garage because it was there, and I ducked out on the lobby level instead because someone got on there first and I had to keep moving.

  Down a final hallway, I saw the glowing escape of an ‘Exit’ sign.

  I did not see the ‘Security Door – Alarm Will Sound’ sign.

  The shrieking electronic howl of the alarm sent me jumping out of my skin as I pushed through the door and bolted into the main lobby of the Wentworth Center. People gave way all around me, more people streamed in through the main street entrance, others poured out, excited babbling and argument and speculation filled the air, and why? Because the universe hates me, and so the monitors in every corner of the lobby were showing the apocalypse taking place in the ballroom.

  I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to hear it.

  I ran.

  Spinning around, I pushed toward the nearest door to the outside. People surged against me from every side, and I heard Dave’s name everywhere in the air.

  I heard her name.

  Six feet away from escape, I heard my name.

  “Ms. Hamilton, please wait!”

  The voice echoed from the far side of the lobby and I didn’t recognize it – but I recognized the crackling of security radios, as guards drawn by the alarm fanned out across the lobby. When the voice of a different stranger called out my name from much closer, I lunged for the door.

  Seconds later, I burst out into the street.

  Rain poured down out of the night sky. Cars and taxis and buses splashed past on Michigan Avenue, and the wet pavement gleamed with the reflections of headlights, taillights, traffic lights, and neon lights. Horns blared, engines rumbled, people chattered, footsteps splished and sploshed on the sidewalk, and I ran.

  No plan, no cleverly mapped escape route – I just turned hard left coming out of the Wentworth Center and ran straight down the sidewalk.

  One block, two blocks. Nobody noticed, nobody turned, nobody looked. Back home, me or any woman running down the street would have drawn all kinds of notice and looking, because what else was going on in the great blank spaces of Kansas?

  In Chicago, nobody gave a tin shit. They just kept moving through their own lives and left me to run away from mine.

  Running turned to walking soon enough, though. My bare feet were sopping wet and sore, my legs ached, and somewhere on that third block I stumbled down to a steady, trudging walk.

  More adrenaline drained out of me with each gasping breath. Thoughts started filtering through my brain, and it came to me that I was not in fact built for galloping all over creation – curves are great and all, but they’re something of a handicap when you’re trying to move at speed.

  I looked around for the first time, recognized nothing, and realized I’d gotten my stupid self thoroughly lost. Good one, Cassie.

  I glanced back over my shoulder. Nobody seemed to be following me, but that wouldn’t last. I needed to get off the street and out of sight, and I needed to do it now. Once I was out of this weather and off my feet, I then had to think over my immediate future.

  That was going to be all kinds of fun.

  At the end of the block, a limousine waited at the curb. My internal alarm bells rang immediately – had the minions of Dallstrom Defense Systems found me? Were they waiting to scoop me up and cart me off to some horrible and unspecified fate?

  I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. I eyeballed the limo a little more carefully, and no – Daddy Dallstrom’s vehicles bristled with high-tech antennas, sported bulky armor plating, and had the overall chunky look of military rides converted for civilian use.

  Not this beauty – this one was all sleekness and class, and in its heart it was a mile long. Rain beaded up on the glossy finish of the hood as if it was embarrassed to be an inconvenience, and the chrome trim glowed like silver fire beneath the streetlight overhead. I didn’t know who it belonged to – the license plate read “KCH 1,” which didn’t ring any bells – but I did know that seeing it drawn up alongside a cracked and dirty curb in downtown Chicago was like seeing the Queen’s golden coronation coach parked outside a Waffle House.

  I glanced left to see what sort of business would draw the owner of a ride like that. It turned out to be a small restaurant, and was it maybe also an establishment that would let a footsore girl get in out of the rain?

  Flowing Japanese characters painted in red and gold covered a single long plate glass window and the English lettering on the restaurant’s door read “Kitami Neko,” just above a picture of a smiling cat – problem was, the door also displayed a handwritten sign saying ‘Closed For Private Event.’

  I almost walked on – and then I heard voices behind me in the distance, maybe a block away and closing.

  “Ms. Hamilton, hang on! It’s all right, we just need to –”

  No, you do not.

  Somebody’s private event was about to get a new guest.

  I marched up to the door of the restaurant as if I belonged there, hammering on the glass with my fist. “Sorry I’m late! Can you open up, please? It’s raining like the end of the world out here!”

  More shouting of my name, closer.

  I kicked the door for good measure. “I just saw an ark float by, let me IN!”

  The door swung open on a solid wall of man.

  I looked up, and up, and then up some more. Somewhere in the stratosphere, a wide flat face – sort of Polynesian-looking, maybe Hawaiian? – stared back down at me.

  And I do mean stared. The anonymous grey suit and the outline of a holstered gun told me this had to be Mystery Limo Owner’s bodyguard – but all I could see was that stare.

  He didn’t say anything. He just stared down from on high with his small dark eyes and he kept staring, and it was like being stared at by a mountain that was deciding whether or not to crush me with an avalanche.

  No time, Cassie, none at all. Move.

  I ducked under his arm without thinking about it.

  “Hi, everybody! Sorry I’m running late –”

  The Mountain That Walked Like A Man shouldered the door shut behind me, and he could break me in two like a twig later – I was now out of sight of my pursuers, and that was all that mattered.

  A counter for take-out orders was on my right, the front window stretched past on my left, and straight ahead stood a scattering of small round tables – and at the one in the corner sat the star of every gossip magazine on the planet.

  Six feet and fiv
e inches of the second-hottest guy ever winked at me, and then turned to call out in the direction of the nearby ladies room.

  “Ashley, Jimmy’s discovered a magnificently round redhead who’s currently throwing herself at me with passionate abandon!”

  Devon Killane was the one Chicago resident I knew long before I ever hit town, thanks to my bartender Shana’s addiction to magazines that dished celebrity dirt – she’d kept stacks of People and Us Weekly behind the bar, and this man was on the cover of every other issue. Up until a couple of years ago, he’d appeared alongside a different slinky model or pouting actress every time – but then he’d fallen like a ton of sexy bricks for a brash big girl, bless his heart, and married her in the splashiest wedding ceremony in Chicago history. Now they shared the covers, and word was he couldn’t get enough of showing off her curves.

  Word also was that he was more than a little crazy – but when you’re forty and still have the body of an underwear model, along with raven-black hair, blue-violet eyes, a face fit for Hollywood, and enough money to make Einar Dallstrom look like a homeless guy holding a tin cup with three grimy nickels in it … well, people tend to overlook little things like insanity.

  “Hurry, my lovely Ashley, or you’ll miss the supreme moment when our writhing, sweaty bodies come together in an explosion of orgasmic passion!”

  A weary voice answered him from beyond the ladies room door. “Devon, I love you more than pecan pie and life itself, but what have I said about getting a pregnant woman to hurry anywhere? Between carrying this ginormous whale belly around and also having to pee every five minutes, I’m not hurrying unless the damn building is burning down – so whoever she is, leave the poor girl alone and I’ll be out there as soon as I can overcome Earth’s gravity enough to get up.”

  Hammering footsteps sped past outside, hesitated, and came back.

  Shit.

  I dropped into a chair across from my host, turning my back to the window and praying nobody outside spotted my giveaway mop of red hair. “Mr. Killane, I apologize for crashing your party, but there’s a situation going on out there that I’d rather avoid –”