The Taming of the Billionaire

by Jessica Clare

  Not someone who was dating her simply to distract her. He’d gotten a glimpse inside Edie’s mind in the last week or two. She was like a piece of dark chocolate that came in those candy boxes—bitter and brittle on the outside, and filled with sweetness within.

  She deserved someone who would appreciate that sweetness. Not these stupid games Levi and Bianca were determined to play.

  He tossed aside his phone in frustration, enjoying the clatter it made on his desk. He was alone in the office, and that made him even more frustrated. True to form, Levi was sulking and avoiding work.

  Fuck him. Fuck everything about this. Magnus threw up his hands and went to the workout room to blow off some steam.

  ***

  “Please, please tell me you’re not going to wear that outfit,” Bianca said to Edie, chasing after her sister with a makeup brush. “Look. I still have glitter and a long dress! We can make you a princess, too!” She blinked big, pleading eyes at her older sister.

  Edie shook her sword at Bianca. “Arr. I’m going to be a pirate.”

  “Pirates aren’t sexy! You want to be sexy tonight, don’t you?”

  “I can be a sexy pirate.”

  “Not with a peg leg, you can’t.”

  “It’s the perfect solution,” Edie said, tapping her sword against the peg her knee was propped up on. “With this thing I can sit in the corner and be in character, and no one’s going to expect me to dance or be social or anything.” She flipped down the eyepatch over one eye. “You can be the hot one.”

  “But . . . but . . .”

  “No buts. I’d just trip over that dress you got me anyhow.” Apparently Bianca had thought that Edie could wear a glittery green slinky mermaid costume, complete with red wig and seashell bra. And while it would have been hilarious to be the mermaid to Gretchen’s Ursula, it also would have meant a lot of attention and a lot of walking and mingling, and that was not her idea of fun. So she’d hit up a thrift store and made her own costume out of a ragged black asymmetrical skirt, a few plastic Halloween props, and a red-and-white striped blouse that hung off of one shoulder and was probably from the eighties’ Flashdance era. A retro pirate was still a pirate, after all.

  “Can’t we at least glitter up your cheekbones?” Bianca asked, holding up her makeup brush.

  She resisted the urge to slap the brush out of Bianca’s hand. “No glitter.” When Bianca tried to glitter her face anyhow, she jerked away. “Fuck off with the glitter! Seriously!”

  “Don’t you want to be sexy? There’s going to be a lot of hot guys there tonight.”

  “Then they can look at your glittery tits all they want,” she said, gesturing at Bianca’s impressive cleavage. “And I’m going to sit in a corner and drink.”

  “Party pooper,” Bianca said with a pout. “Magnus will be there.”

  “Good for him.” All the more reason she didn’t want to go. “He can look at your glittery tits, too.”

  “I thought you liked Magnus,” Bianca said, her eyes going wide.

  “Nope. He’s a dick.”

  Bianca gave her a narrow-eyed look. “What did he say to you?”

  “Nothing at all, actually. And we’re going to be late to the party if you don’t finish tarting up your boobs,” Edie said. She really did not want to talk about her dating life—or lack thereof—to perfect Bianca. “Now come on. We need to get decent parking because those cobblestones are going to be hell on a peg leg.”

  “You’re the worst,” Bianca said dramatically. “The worst.”

  “I know. But you’re my sister so you’re stuck with me.”

  ***

  A short time later, Bianca was glittered up, her smooth hair curled to perfection, and Edie submitted to a bit of lip gloss—no more!—and the sisters were on their way. They spent a few hours in the car and then pulled up to Buchanan Manor, the long, winding driveway lined with limos and expensive cars.

  And Edie’s stomach sank a little at the sight of the crowds. She hated parties. And even though the manor house was lit up with glowing lights dotting the walkways and white strings of additional lights hanging from above, she couldn’t muster enthusiasm for the party. Just the sight of the people crowding at the door made her stomach clench unhappily.

  Bianca made a happy squeal of excitement. “Look at all the lights on the grounds! It’s so beautiful.”

  “It is,” Edie agreed unenthusiastically.

  Parking ended up being easier than they thought—Hunter and Gretchen had valets handling all the cars. Of course they did. Money was no object for Hunter, and Gretchen was all too happy to spend some of it on his behalf. They handed off the keys to their car and headed up the long, light-festooned walkway to the doors of the manor, and with each step, Edie regretted the peg leg a little more. The padding she’d put in the knee already felt as if it were non-existent, and it was already hurting. Figured. All the more reason to find a nice, quiet corner and hide for the rest of the evening.

  Two men in tuxedos and wearing headsets waited at the doors, checking invitations. Edie passed hers over and waited. “I already cleared with Gretchen that my sister Bianca could attend.”

  The man ran his pen down the list, then nodded. “I see her name listed here. Do both of you have masks?”

  They received their masks, and then the doors opened and they were enveloped by the party.

  Inside the house, the manor was packed from wall to wall with people. Colorful banners of teal and white streamed through the bannisters of the double staircase, and flowers overflowed on every surface. Maids walked past with trays of food and waiters passed out stemmed drinks. Everywhere there were people in elegant costumes and plain black masks.

  And . . . here she was, dressed as a pirate. Well, so much for subtlety. At least Bianca would blend in.

  “Yeah, this party looks wild,” Edie said. “I’m going to go find me a nice bench to hide out on. I’ll text you when I’m ready to go, okay?”

  “Don’t text too soon,” Bianca said excitedly. She gave Edie a quick hug and then wandered off into the party.

  Edie wiped off leftover glitter from Bianca’s hug and began to weave her way through the crowd. She’d find Gretchen, say her greetings, claim a bench, and play games on her phone until it was time to leave. Yep, a life of excitement.

  A half hour later, she’d greeted Gretchen, who looked utterly fabulous in her costume and was glowing with excitement. She’d spoken for a few minutes with Hunter, who made a dashing figure as the Phantom of the Opera, his mask covering almost all of his scars. The poor man looked almost as uncomfortable as she was, stoically enduring out of love for his fiancée. That was sweet, Edie decided. She chatted with them for several minutes, said hello to a few other bridesmaids, and when her knee protested a bit too long, made her excuses and went off to find that bench she’d been promising herself.

  She skirted the edges of the party, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sipping it as she hugged the curtains. There was a small side-hall nearby and a Restrooms sign posted on the wall, with an arrow for party guests. As Edie leaned against the wall, Gretchen strolled past, all purple and tentacles, talking with another bridesmaid. Her literary agent, Edie vaguely remembered. Kat.

  “If we start rehearsals now, we can have an amazing dance number as we come down the aisle,” Kat was saying, and Edie stiffened, pushing closer to the curtains so no one would see her.

  She could hear Gretchen’s groan. “Absolutely not, Kat. Even if Hunter would agree to something like that—and he won’t—it’d be unfair to Edie.”

  Kat gave a gusty sigh of disappointment. “She’s the bitchy one with the bad leg and the clingy sister, right?”

  “That’d be her.”

  Kat shook her head, her brown ponytail bobbing. She was dressed in a green schoolgirl costume that looked like something from an anim
e. “It’s a shame that her injury has made her so bitter and unpleasant.”

  Gretchen just laughed. “Uh, you do not know Edie very well, do you? Her flawlessness was born to her. She can cut a basic bitch down to size from across a room. It has nothing to do with her leg. She’s always been like that.” She gave a small sigh. “And that’s why I adore her.”

  From her hiding spot, Edie smiled to herself. It wasn’t the first time people had assumed she’d become a bitch because of her leg injury. It wasn’t the case. She’d always been impatient with others and quick to judge. Having the leg injury just made her slightly less patient with stupidity than normal. And she was about to tell Kat she could go fuck herself, but stopped.

  This was Gretchen’s night. Even she wasn’t enough of a bitch to destroy the engagement party by throwing down with one of the other bridesmaids over an offhand comment. She downed her champagne, set the glass on a nearby rose-covered table, and decided to find someplace else to hide.

  Buchanan Manor had a lovely set of terraced patios covered with potted plants of all kinds and a few artistic stone benches. Several sets of doors to one of the larger party halls had been opened to allow guests to explore the patio, and more of the small, sparkly lights strung overhead glimmered, creating a lovely effect outside. There was a chill in the air, though, and so the patio wasn’t very populated . . . which suited Edie just fine. She suspected her pirate costume was warmer than a lot of the other costumes. Other than Gretchen and her very-pregnant sister, most of the women were dressed in skimpy costumes that required a bit of a silky dress and not much else. She’d seen a slutty-looking Cookie Monster stroll past and it made her wonder how someone thought that was appropriate for an engagement party. When you were sexy, though, you could get away with a lot, Edie supposed. She sat down on a bench between two potted evergreens and removed her peg leg, then rubbed her knee. Six years ago, she’d have probably been dressed as a slutty Cookie Monster herself, she thought wistfully. Nah. She’d probably have been a slutty Oscar the Grouch. That was more her style.

  Someone in bright blue and yellow walked past one of the windows, and her attention automatically turned there, attracted by the colors. A man was dressed as a football player, his ass encased in tight shiny pants, pads highlighting muscular thighs that needed no additional definition. His calves were sculpted perfection, and his butt was like two perfect globes of muscle that flexed when he shifted his weight. The blue and gold of his costume was ridiculously bright, but he carried it well enough. She studied the broad back and the massive shoulder pads as the man in the helmet talked with a pretty blonde slutty Strawberry Shortcake. The back of the jersey read WARRIOR across the shoulders and 01 as the number.

  She stared at the jersey, not comprehending, as the pink-masked Strawberry Slutcake leaned forward and grabbed the football player’s athletic supporter. Well, damn. The party hadn’t been going on for long and already the football player was scoring. Ha.

  Edie’s eyes widened in horror as the football player turned slightly and she could clearly see a familiar profile and a pair of green-gold eyes. Shit. That was Magnus with his junk being cupped by another woman.

  No wonder he hadn’t responded to her texts. He had something better already waiting for him.

  Fuck him. Time to leave. Ignoring the stab of hurt, Edie jerked up from the stone bench she sat on. As she did, her peg leg clattered to the cobblestones.

  Strawberry Shortcake turned and looked right at her.

  So did Magnus.

  Edie froze in place, unable to move. She watched as recognition moved over Magnus’s face and he pulled his helmet off, revealing buzzed hair and two black streaks of paint under his gorgeous eyes. He looked shocked to see her standing there. As she hesitated, Strawberry Shortcake stepped closer to Magnus. Intimately closer.

  And that got Edie moving. Her jaw clenched. She shot him the bird—Shortcake, too—and then turned and limped down the stairs and into the nighttime gardens, leaving her peg leg behind like some sort of wackadoo Cinderella.

  “Edie,” Magnus called behind her. “Wait up.”

  “Fuck you,” she called after him, hurrying as fast as her leg would carry her. The gardens weren’t lit, but ahead she could make out a thick hedge and headed for that. If the gardens offered any sort of protection for an aching heart, she’d take them.

  There was no way in hell she was going back into that party. Not after she’d thrown herself at Magnus for the last few weeks.

  It was clear he didn’t want her.

  Chapter Nine

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. This party was going from bad to worse. Magnus tossed aside his helmet and jogged down the stairs, trying to see where Edie had gone. For a woman with a bad leg, she’d sure disappeared into the bushes fast. He paused, scanning the dark grounds of the expansive gardens.

  As he did, the blonde who’d blatantly fondled him a few moments ago came up from behind him and looped an arm around his waist. “Where are you going, babe? We were just starting to have fun.”

  He pried her arms off of him, fighting the surge of irritation at her forwardness. Before meeting Edie, he probably wouldn’t have given a shit about the blonde. He’d have taken her upstairs, fucked her like she wanted, and then never called her again. If he did that now, though, Edie would know. Edie would care.

  She’d be upset.

  And for some reason, that tore at him. It mattered that Edie would be hurt. Hell, she was probably already thinking the worst of him after he’d shut her down in her text messages earlier that week. She wouldn’t understand, and because Bianca and Levi weren’t going to confess their little games, she’d be hurt. She’d think the problem was her.

  He didn’t want her to think that. He didn’t know why, but it bothered him.

  So he plowed after her, into the bushes. Behind him, Strawberry Shortcake gave a huff of irritation, but she didn’t follow. Good.

  The hedges in the massive garden seemed to be blocking his sight unless he went deeper in and left the party behind. Fuck the party anyhow. “Edie?” He called out as he stormed through the gardens, looking for a striped top and a woman with an awkward gait.

  No answer. Of course not. He continued forward, moving around circular hedges and thorn bushes that grabbed at his clothing, swearing when he ran into a decorative fountain because he wasn’t paying attention to anything but the dark shapes at the edges of his vision. The big manor house was a distant square full of lights when he heard rustling in the nearby bushes. “Edie?” he called again.

  Someone emerged from behind a hedge up ahead. Magnus slowed his steps cautiously. It was a man, and he could barely make out a tuxedo of some kind. Behind him, a smaller figure appeared, and for a heart-pounding moment, he thought it was Edie. But then the man looped an arm around the woman’s shoulders as she tried to straighten her clothing and Magnus realized the woman ahead was much smaller.

  Not Edie, then. He’d interrupted a tryst. “Have you two seen Edie?”

  “Magnus, that you?” the man said, stepping forward. He pulled off his mask.

  Magnus groaned inwardly. Asher, the prick.

  Asher gave him a broad, almost sinister smile. “What brings you out here?” He slapped the woman with him on the ass and she jolted, scurrying ahead of them, still fixing the buttons on her costume.

  Ugh. Not only was Asher the last person he wanted to see, but Asher was apparently drunk and in one of his nasty moods. “I’m looking for someone,” Magnus said abruptly, turning away.

  Asher laughed. “Oh, that’s right. I heard you were nailing the gimpy bridesmaid. The foul-mouthed one. Let me tell you, she must suck a mean dick for you to look past all that.”

  Magnus’s fists clenched. He knew Asher was a miserable bastard despite his smiles, that he was normally a good guy but he’d turned cynical and bitter after his fiancée had left him. There were reasons to his boorish
ness, Magnus knew. He didn’t blame the guy . . . fully. But he needed to shut his fucking mouth. “Go away, Asher.”

  Asher just stumbled toward him, clearly drunk. He tried to loop an arm around Magnus’s shoulders, but the football pads were in the way, so he settled for giving Magnus an awkward pat on the arm instead. “It’s okay, man. You’re just taking one for the team—”

  That was a little too close to home. With a roar of fury, Magnus rounded on Asher and decked the man in the face.

  Asher went sprawling to the ground. Pain shot up Magnus’s arm, but it was welcome, because it meant he’d connected with Asher’s fucking smug face.

  “Oh my god,” a woman squealed. “Asher!” The tiny woman ran forward and began to help Asher up. Even as she did, Asher put his fingers to his mouth and gave Magnus a cynical smile. “Maybe she’s not so good at—”

  Fists clenched, Magnus lunged for him again—only to be pulled back by a new pair of hands.

  “No, Magnus,” Edie said in a soft voice. “It’s okay, seriously.”

  “Yeah, Magnus,” Asher said, wiping blood away from his face. “It’s cool.”

  Seething, Magnus glared at Asher for a moment longer before looking down into Edie’s worried face. In the moonlight, she was beautiful, her hand on his arm, stroking him. She was worried, her features pinched, and her luscious mouth was pulled down in an unhappy frown. She didn’t look over at Asher, though. She just looked up at Magnus with those big eyes and stroked his arm. His hand throbbed, a reminder of what he’d just done, but it didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was defending Edie, who had no way to defend herself from people like Asher.

  He wanted to be the one to protect her. To keep her safe.

  “It’s okay,” she told him softly. “Really.”

  He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. “Get the fuck out of here, Asher,” Magnus told him without opening his eyes. “Or I might do something I’d regret later.”