Full Shred: A Billionaire's Secret Baby Romance

by Adair Rymer

  What should I do now? Should I just leave? He told me I could, but that was before I took his hand in the elevator. He already paid me, there was nothing stopping me from leaving.

  Still, that look he gave me when he thought I'd turned down his offer was stuck in my mind. That sorrowful look melted me. Was that why I was still here? To see if there was more to the man than he let on...

  Ugh, I wanted to scream! I hated feeling like this! I'd done all this with Chance, I couldn't stand doing it again!

  And to top it all off I couldn't even get a fucking drink!

  Finally I spotted a hotel employee walking around with a handcart loaded up with several cases of alcohol. I followed him to what looked like a newspaper kiosk. Each room had one of these, but I just thought they were part of some theme I hadn't understood.

  I should've known that they weren't there as a social commentary about how print media was dead. No, they were filled with alcohol. I felt a little silly for not figuring it out faster.

  The waist high front shelves had every beer I'd ever heard of and far more that I hadn't. The back shelves were chock full of spirits so expensive in regular bars that I'd never dared to ask about them in case even the questions costed money. Between the two shelves was a small table with every mixer I could imagine.

  “Um, excuse me?” I asked the man restocking the empty beer shelves, he stopped and smiled attentively at me. “Do you know when the bartender will be back?

  “There are no bartenders. We encourage guests to make their own drinks.” The man said, almost apologetically. I could tell he wasn't used to Maynard's way of doing things either. “But, I know a few recipes, I might be able to make you something. What would you like?”

  Why would Maynard have all this liquor, then force guests to make their own drinks? I snorted to myself, just another in the million questions I had about that man. I wish I didn't think about him so much. It seemed that he'd been on my mind constantly since I met him. It was even difficult to focus on my research at work today, because I couldn't get his damn blue eyes out of my head.

  “Uh, sure.” I snapped out of my daze. While searching around all this time for a drink, I hadn't given any thought to what kind of drink I wanted. I just asked for the first thing that popped into my head. “Uh, sex on the beach, if you can, please?

  I almost cringed at my selection. Maynard was still on my mind, so of course I'd be thinking of sex...

  “We don't have a beach up here, but I can clear everyone out of the fountain room—” The thick voice behind me wafted through me like satiny smoke. The same way it had when his sweaty, rock hard body was on top of me, whispering sexy promises. I turned quickly to face him, suddenly feeling the fabric of my panties rubbing against my swollen clit. “If you want to get wet.”

  Maynard thanked the employee, dismissing him with a casual wave. I struggled to push the image of Maynard's corded muscles dripping with water, from my head. Damn him.

  “You startled me!” I hoped that was enough of an excuse to explain the sudden flushness in my face and my rapid pulse rate. I didn't want to be this turned on near him, since I was still pretty angry.

  “I've always liked a 'slow comfortable screw', care to try one?” Maynard grazed my shoulder as he walked by me. The combination of his heat, slight pressure and scent as he passed, raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. It reminded me just how torturous that elevator ride with him was.

  “Why don't you go 'comfortably screw' yourself,” I said, with as much indignation as I could manage. The threat came off too much like an actual question than a curse. I was still too off-kilter from his abrupt arrival to have the tone I wanted.

  “I haven't had to do that in quite awhile, shit I might have forgotten how.” Maynard flipped liquor bottles around like a fancy mixologist, pouring two drinks smoother than anyone I'd ever seen. “You mind giving me a refresher?”

  It occurred to me why he didn't have bartenders. This was part of the show. He would inconvenience a whole party just to be able to show off a little bit more. He was truly unbelievable.

  Spitefully, I grabbed a regular beer off one of the chilled shelves and drank that instead of the beautiful drink he'd prepared for me.

  If my rebellious act bothered Maynard, he didn't show it. His smirk widened as he carefully topped each drink with a splash of orange juice, then abandoned them to grab himself a beer as well.

  “Why did you invite me here?” I scoffed at his doesn't-matter-to-me gesture. “Are you trying to torture me? Are these the kinds of games that bored rich people play?”

  “The only torture I like is in the bedroom.” He shrugged. “And is it really torture if you beg me for it?”

  Wow. He was laying it on awfully thick, even for him. I'd already told him I wasn't sleeping with him again, but that didn't stop Maynard from switching into overdrive mode

  “Just cut the crap, will you?”

  “Why should I?” Maynard took a sip of his beer, a quizzical expression on his face. “You're the one that bailed on me when I needed you.”

  “I didn't know Chance was going to be here.” Heat rushed to me again, but this time it was because I was getting upset. “Seeing my ex-boyfriend changed the situation”

  “What changed the situation was you deciding to fuck me over.” Maynard's eyes narrowed at that. “Do you have any idea, what position you put me in?”

  “Are you really this shallow?” I was sorry for the way I left, but did he really chase after me just to attack me? “I was hoping that at least some part of this—” I waved my hand at his meticulously cultivated image. “—Was an act. Do you give a damn about anything other than yourself?

  “Why the fuck should I?” Maynard's voice was almost too low to hear, but became louder as he continued. “Women come and go. And people you care about, die.”

  Maynard's face darkened like a lone cloud blotted out the sun above him, his perfect, careless playboy exterior finally cracked. The background music and chatter in the room evaporated into steam as Maynard's voice got louder. Everyone stopped what they were doing and gawked. Some people took out their phones to record the melt down, and others just left because of the awkwardness.

  “This hotel is the only fucking thing I have. It's all I care about!” Maynard screamed at the room full of people, then threw his beer bottle at the balcony's glass wall. The whole pane of glass came crashing down, and shattered in a brilliant display. When all the noise ceased, and it was quiet enough that my own thoughts were deafening, Maynard finished his thought. “And now that's gone too.”

  I felt like a statue, all the anger I had just a moment ago drained away. Maynard Cooper was more a symbol than a man. I could only imagine what the media was going to do to him once all these cellphone videos of him losing his temper, hit the internet.

  Maynard made his way through the shattered glass and out on to the large balcony.

  Seeing all the rage and pain in Maynard's eyes, part of me felt like I was watching a Greek tragedy. He didn't come off as the type that flies off the handle at the drop of a hat, there had to be more going on.

  Maynard was losing his hotel, when did that happen? Did I somehow play a part in that by not going to that meeting. Even if I did, what was one hotel to a billionaire? What had happened with his sister that changed him so much?

  No one went to talk to him, to see if he was alright or even to find out what had happened. For several agonizing minutes I stood alone in the middle of the room and watched as everyone filtered out. Music and laughter flooded into the room from the open door. The rest of the party rolled on unchanged.

  In the time I'd been with him, I had seen Maynard greet many people as a host, but none as friends. Most people seemed to only know him by name or reputation, I didn't get the impression that anyone really knew him.

  In a sense, he was alone in a sea full of admirers.

  I tried to decide what I should do next. Certainly no one would blame me for leaving. But wh
en I finally moved my legs they were headed in the opposite direction. I was walking toward the balcony, toward Maynard. I hadn't known what it was like to be a celebrity, but I knew loneliness all too well.

  My heels crunched on shards of broken glass as I carefully made my way out onto the expansive, cobblestone balcony. I wasn't dressed to be outside in December, but that didn't matter. Heat lamps lined the overhang roof and the bottom of the metal railings that ran down the length of the building's balcony.

  Maynard leaned on the railing and looked out over the city he called home. The hotel's height made the view incredibly serene. We were up too high to hear the horns and hustle of everyone on the ground.

  I carefully navigated the uneven stone flooring to sidle up next to him. I had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth next, a joke, a come-on or maybe even an insult, but I did expect him to say something.

  Nothing came. For a long while we didn't speak at all, we just stared out over the horizon. The sky was overcast, but the stars were still out in the form of a million window lights, that shined below us. It felt like we were gods standing above the heavens.

  Sexual innuendos aside, I understood the appeal of living somewhere sixty-nine floors off the ground. The scope of it made all my problems seem so insignificant. I wasn't totally cool with heights, but something about the breathtaking view just filled me with this sense of hope.

  I looked at Maynard. His hair was rustled slightly, and the suit he wore wasn't as pristine as when I'd first seen him in the lobby. It dawned me that I'd seen Maynard as a one-night-stand, a mystery, and as a larger-than-life host, but never did I take a moment to try to see him as just a man.

  “Hey,” I said. Maynard turned slowly to face me. He was just a handsome man, whose burning blue eyes made my knees quiver...“Are you OK?”

  Chapter 6

  Maynard

  I didn't know how to answer her.

  What the hell happened to me in there? Nothing was going as planned.

  “I'm not sure I know what OK is.” I chuckled, shaking my head. I couldn't meet her eyes, not yet. Whenever I get too stressed out my body goes into hyperdrive. Getting laid calms me down, and when that didn't work, I didn't know how to react so I just exploded. I wasn't proud of it. “But I'm sorry if I frightened you.”

  “I'm alright.” Claire positioned herself to be more under the overhead heat lamp, which brought her dangerously close to me. “I think you might have hurt the building's feelings though.”

  I cracked a small smile. Humor was her defense mechanism, her way of calming down the situation. It was a nice change from mine, which was to rile everything up. Claire and I were polar opposite in so many ways. That difference made me feel like shit.

  I came after her to make myself feel better and ended up flipping the fuck out out when I didn't get my way. Claire came out on this balcony, not for herself, but for me. She walked out here when no one else would, just to see if I was alright.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? Was I always like this? I wanted to blame it on my parents death, but... Shit, that was ten years ago now. At some point I had to take responsibilities for my own actions, didn't I?

  “Funny thing about buildings like this,” I took a deep breath and finally turned to look at her. God, she was perfect. Her green eyes beamed, reminding me of why I moved into the top floor of this building so many years ago. The view was so captivating that I decided I never wanted to wake up and see anything else. “They usually have a way of outlasting the people that built them.”

  “Are you—” A shiver ran through her, raising her shoulders. I'd done a decent job of heating the balcony, but outside, winter would always win. Even the outfit I chose for her was selfish. It didn't come with any protection from the cold. And she'd come out here to talk to me, despite knowing she wasn't dressed for it. Guilt slid into my side like a cold knife.

  I took off my suit jacket and slipped it over her shoulders. I didn't want to be the way I was. Until tonight with Claire, I hadn't realized how hollow it was living only for myself.

  “Thanks.” Claire looked genuinely surprised at the gesture. That only confirmed what I was thinking. No one expected me to be a decent person, not even her. Another stab between the ribs. “Are you really losing the hotel?”

  Was she a masochist? She'd have to be if she believed I was a lost cause. I really hoped that wasn't the case.

  “Looks that way.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Her hands poked out between my jacket's lapel as she closed the fabric tighter.

  “Depends on the something.” I scolded myself for the snarky reply. It was that kind of shit, that made people think you're an asshole. I sighed putting out a more even tone, “Sure.”

  “Why do you care so much about this hotel? You have the money to buy another one right across the street. You could make it even nicer than this if you wanted too.”

  “It's not the concrete and steel I care about.” I looked out over the city, my city. Dreams were made and crushed every day here. But if you could make it in NYC you could make it anywhere.

  “This Hotel- 'The M,' was named after me, back when I was only a baby. Back when I was too young to talk my parents out of it.” I shrugged and watched as Claire cracked a small smile. “Back then it was actually much smaller, a lot of work has been done on it since. It was the first building they ever bought, and for some reason they left it to me in their will.

  “I never really understood why. They should've left it to Bianca instead, she always had more of a head for business than I did.”

  I let the view steal me away again. It always had a way of humbling me. Down there I was a celebrity, people I'd never met knew my name. But up here, I was no one. I was just one of the eight and a half million people that lived here.

  “I read up on them a little, they became very charitable after they bought this place. Maybe the hotel was supposed to be symbolic for you.” Her voice, soft and honest, was a soothing balm on old wounds. “Maybe they were hoping it would somehow help you grow, like it did them?”

  I snorted, closing my eyes. If that was the case, then I seriously let them down. I've only gotten worse since inheriting it. I should probably just let Bianca take it. But if I did that I'd have to face the reality, that my parents faith in me was wrong. That deep down, there was no hope for me to be a better man.

  I'd gone out of my way to prove to people that with me, what you saw was what you got. As long as I had some pussy and enough distractions, I was happy as a clam. After tonight, I wasn't so sure I could ever go back to that blissful ignorance.

  “Why did you stay?” I gently tucked her bangs behind her ear so that I could see the expression on her smooth oval face. I studied her supple, inviting lips, searching for impossible answers. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming.

  It didn't make sense. Claire didn't know me. She'd already been paid and she didn't strike me as a girl who was capable of playing the gold digger long game. No one has had any reason to believe in me since my parents died.

  “I—” Claire thought for a moment, then exhaled with upturned eyes. “I don't know.”

  I nodded appreciatively. At least she was honest, I admired that. I didn't want to press on it, I was just glad she did stay.

  “About Chance, I had no idea he'd be here.” I could only imagine what that must've been like for her. “My sister can be ruthlessly efficient in getting what she wants, even if that means hurting people along the way.”

  “I got that impression by the way she was practicing that Medusa stare of hers.” Claire frowned. “Wish she'd use that on him.”

  “What did he do to you?” I asked her. With guys like Chance, it was never anything good.

  “Same thing he did to every girl.” Claire nearly spat the words. “Chance had knack for leaving broken girls in ruin. And I was no different.” Claire's voice went heartrendingly soft. She had a fixed, distant look in her eyes. It was the same wounded expression
she wore when she saw Chance, right before she walked off on me. I was going to ask her to elaborate, but I kept quiet. The painful emotions had to be shared freely, they couldn't be pried out of a person.

  “We dated for a few months, and it was everything I'd hope my first real college relationship would be.” Claire continued. Her voice picked up as good memories swept over her. “He was kind, thoughtful and the sex was alright.”

  Jealously bubbled within my gut at the thought of that greasy surfer touching her.

  “Then the credit card bills started coming in.” Claire balled her hands into fists, her demeanor darkened considerably. “My parents got me one for emergencies, and I applied for another to build my credit. Credit cards honestly kind of terrified me. I only ever used them for small stuff like my Hulu account. So I was confused as hell when I saw they were maxed out.”

  “And when you confronted him?” I was beginning to see how this dirt bag operated. Chance gave parasites a bad name.

  “I never even got the chanc—” Claire caught herself. “God, he's even ruined that word for me!” She took a breath, before continuing. “He was gone before I could say anything so I did some digging. Come to find out, all his crazy exes had a similar story.”

  Claire had begun shaking. If I asked her, I was sure she'd blame it on the cold. We'd both know it wasn't true. “I’ll make sure he's kicked out.”

  “But he's your sister's date.” Claire sniffed, trying to regain her composure. To her credit, she didn't allow him to make her cry again.

  “I couldn't give a damn what Bianca has to say about it. Besides as far as she's concerned, he's already done his part. She wont care what happens to him now.” Next time I saw Chance, I'd have some of the more violent men on my security team take him outside and kick the shit out of him.