Billionaire's Game

by Summer Cooper

  “Oh, I love you more, babe,” Angela replied.

  Richard curled her closer to his chest, her head resting there hearing his heart beating rhythmically beneath. She loved to listen to his body. She loved to listen to the life force deep inside of him. It sounded like love and hope, which she had been seriously lacking in her life.

  But not anymore.

  She was quickly becoming one of the rising stars of the fashion industry and she was now married to the most amazing man she could have ever asked for. Sometimes though, she started feeling like she didn’t deserve it all. At times she would find herself waking up in the middle of the night sure that it was all a dream or that it was all temporary. Maybe it would all disappear soon and that would be the end of her rollercoaster ride. She saw it happen all the time. The fashion world and the entertainment world were both fickle beasts and they were all about the flavor of the week.

  Who was to say that she wasn’t just this week’s flavor?

  Richard Kane, that is who.

  When those seeds of doubt started to plant themselves into her paranoid brain, Angela Walters-Kane just had to think about her amazing husband Richard and she could cast those thoughts aside and go on enjoying their perfect, fairytale life together.

  The End

  Yes Officer

  Chapter One

  Everyone told me running a bookstore would be boring. But on this side of town it was anything but. I had bars on the windows and doors and routinely heard gunfire as soon as the sun went down. Running crackheads out of the shop was a daily occurrence and I’d even been robbed at gunpoint, the masked asshole making off with five hundred hard-earned dollars. Losing that money tipped me completely off balance, leading directly to me getting evicted from my apartment. I now slept on a creaky foldout cot in the rear storage room. I’d sold most of what I owned to keep this shop open, and even lost my long term boyfriend Chris in the deal. So, boring? Not even a little. Tragic was more like it.

  I walked down the street in the dark, moving quickly to get to my shop. I hated this neighborhood but now I was trapped here. I was barely making ends meet in the bookstore. I couldn’t scrape the money together for a security deposit on another place when I barely had enough to money to buy food. Thank god Chris had forgotten to drop me from his gym membership or I’d have no place to get a good shower. I tossed my wet hair over my shoulder, shifting uncomfortably in my damp t-shirt. I might have been broke and nearly homeless, but at least I was clean.

  The streetlight right across from the bookshop was out—had been for weeks—so I didn’t notice until I was right in front of it that something was wrong. It looked like someone had kicked in the door. The frame was splintered and the glass beneath the bars was cracked.

  I drew in a sharp breath and glanced up and down the street, but I didn’t see anyone loitering besides the usual suspects—a drug dealer on the far corner who always whistled when I went by and a few ladies of the night pacing on the other corner. Smart people stayed off this street after dark. Really smart people stayed off of it during the day too. Hence, my struggling book sales.

  I pushed the door all the way open with trembling fingers. “Hello?” I called into the bluish dark. This was stupid. I shouldn’t go in. I should wait out on the street… for what?

  “I have a gun!” I blurted. Without thinking, I made the shape of a gun with my hand and stuck it out in front of me before realizing just how fucking stupid this was. I dropped my hand and backed out onto the street. Sad thing was, I was no safer out here.

  I dug into my shoulder bag and pulled out a handful of crap, hoping my phone was in there somewhere. My keys hit the sidewalk along with my stick of deodorant, but I managed to keep hold of the phone. I dialed 911 while I crouched to collect my things. I couldn’t afford to lose either one, even if the door to the bookshop was now permanently unlocked from the outside.

  “911, what’s your emergency?” a disembodied, professional voice asked, seemingly from a long, safe distance away.

  “Someone broke into my shop,” I whispered, eyes still darting up and down the street.

  “Hello? I can’t hear you.”

  “Someone broke into my shop,” I repeated in a louder voice. Hadn’t I just been screaming into the dark like an idiot about having a gun? If someone was in there, they’d already heard me.

  “Where are you located, ma’am?”

  I gave the professional voice the address to my shop.

  “I’ve dispatched a unit to your location. Stay outside and wait for the officer to arrive.”

  “Great, thank you. I—” but the calm, disembodied voice was gone, leaving me alone on the street. Well, mostly alone. There was the drug dealer and the prostitutes. One of them was climbing into an idling car as I watched. I found myself wondering, and not for the first time since losing my apartment, just how much they made a night.

  I pressed against the barred front window—which had been broken twice before I finally put the bars up—rubbed the gooseflesh from my arms, and waited. A few minutes later, a cop car was speeding down the street, its lights on but sirens muted. It pulled to a stop on the curb in front of me, bathing me and the street in red and blue blinding light before they died along with the engine. I expected two officers to spring from the vehicle, guns drawn, using complicated hand signals to communicate as they rushed single file into my shop. But a single officer climbed out of the driver’s side in no hurry at all. He adjusted his hat, then his belt, before striding up to me, getting a little taller with each step. By the time he reached me I had to crane my neck to look into his shadowed face. He had to be six three, easy. His shoulders were enormous, the arms sticking out from his short-sleeved uniform, muscly and solid.

  “Someone broke into my shop!” I said, pointing, hoping the urgency in my voice would get his ass moving. But he merely looked at me, his mouth drawn into a tight line as he pulled a pad of paper from his back pocket.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” he asked.

  “Angela Stevens.”

  He wrote it down then put the pad back in his pocket. “Wait out here, Mrs. Stevens.” He turned away without another word and went to the open door of the shop. He stuck his head inside. “Where are the lights?” he asked.

  “Along the far wall,” I said, creeping closer to him. He smelled just like you’d expect a man of his size to smell—musky and solid.

  He stepped into the darkness while I watched from the street. He turned on a flashlight as he walked up the center aisle, pointing the beam everywhere, his free hand dropping to rest on the butt of his gun. He stopped at the short hallway that led to the back storeroom and the toilet.

  “Is there an exit back here?” he called out to me.

  “No,” I said.

  He turned on the lights, illuminating piles of books on the ground and the front counter, which was empty. Everything had been thrown onto the floor in a mess of broken glass and books.

  “Shit,” I muttered, looking around at the chaos. It all looked ruined. If I lost this bookstore, I was out on my ass.

  “I take it the store didn’t look like this when you left tonight?” the cop asked, his gruff voice sounding amused.

  I glared at him, getting my first good look at his face in the light. He was older than I’d expected. Somewhere in his early to mid-forties. But his uniform was just tight enough to see how sculpted and muscly his chest and legs were. He kept himself in good shape. I definitely appreciated the view despite his salty, unhelpful attitude.

  “No, it didn’t, Officer…” I squinted to see the nameplate on his bulky chest. “Scott.”

  He walked over to where I was standing in the middle of the carnage, his dark eyes never leaving my face as his lips pressed into a slim line. He had the whole tall, dark, and smoldering thing going on, that was for damned sure. His thick black hair was pushed back under his hat, short around his ears and neck, but longer on top. Long enough to hold onto. His eyes were blazing. I’d never seen
anything like it in my life. His flat stare stole the air from the room. And the dark stubble on his strong jaw was making my knees weak. It could’ve just been the excitement from the break-in, but it felt hotter than hell in here all of a sudden.

  He checked his watch. “Why are you here at nine-thirty at night when you close at…” His eyes drifted to the sign on the front door of my shop. “Seven?” His steady eyes settled on me again, so dark they looked black. Was that possible?

  “I…” I started, but what could I really say to that? I lived here? I’d run up to the gym in the nicer part of town near where I used to live so I could hang out for a few hours without the sound of gunshots ringing in the air? “I forgot something here. I needed to come get it.”

  He lifted his bushy, jet black eyebrows, but I didn’t go on with the bullshit lie. His mouth curled at the ends into a sexy, knowing grin. “You jumped out of the shower and came straight here?”

  I shrugged, my cheeks blazing. Not just from the question, but from how hard he was staring at me, his eyes leaving my face to drift down the entire length of my body, stopping pointedly at my breasts, the shape of them outlined perfectly by my damp t-shirt and shallow breathing.

  “I’m going to take another look around,” he said to my boobs.

  “Is that really necessary?” I asked. “The person is obviously gone.”

  Officer Scott looked me in the face this time, his dark eyes sizzling hot, and I couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. My lungs stopped working. He didn’t even bother with a response, just walked off, stepping on books and broken glass as he scanned the bookcases and overturned shelves. I scurried along behind him on my tiptoes to keep from stepping on anything, not that it wasn’t already ruined, but a girl could hope. I ran to block the entrance to the back area and restroom when he walked that way.

  “No one’s back there,” I said. “I already told you there’s no rear entrance to this place.”

  He dropped one hand to the butt of his gun again as a stormy expression moved over his face. I held my breath, ready for him to take me into custody. Would he have to frisk me first? I sure hoped so. Jesus, it had been a long time since I’d fucked someone. Maybe I could call Chris after this. Not that he answered my calls very often anymore, but I needed to do something to release this sudden buildup of sexual tension.

  “Move aside, ma’am,” he said, but didn’t wait for me to do what he’d asked. He put his big hand on my shoulder and moved me himself. I could feel the heat of his skin through the flimsy, wet fabric of my shirt. And he left his hand on me for much longer than seemed necessary, his gaze never leaving mine, the intensity of that stare making me squeeze my legs together because the insistent itch between them was driving me crazy. Just looking up into this cop’s eyes was getting my panties damp. I definitely needed to call Chris after this. I had to fuck somebody. Tonight. I hadn’t been this ready to go in months, which was another reason Chris gave for ending our relationship.

  He slid his hand from my shoulder, his thick fingers trailing down my arm as he turned to go into the darkened back area of the shop. The bathroom was straight down the short hallway to the right. The storage room was across from it, filled with boxes of books I couldn’t sell stacked around my sad, unmade cot. The door was closed, but I was sure the cop would want to check it out.

  I followed him, sliding in front of the closed storeroom door as he turned on the light in the tiny bathroom and glanced inside. He turned to face me and I leaned back against the door, trying and I was sure failing to look casual.

  “I need to see what’s in there,” he said, his voice sounding even deeper back here than it had out front.

  “I left the door closed just like this when I left earlier. It looks like some kids just broke in and made a mess. Can you please just write a report and go?” I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I’d secured the door and gotten this shit picked up. I had a stale bagel in my purse that I wanted to munch on as well. I hadn’t eaten since that morning. One thing this whole losing everything had been good for was my diet plan. The gym’s scales told me I’d lost twenty pounds in the last month.

  “Mrs. Stevens—”

  “Miss Stevens.”

  His eyebrows lifted at that, and he seemed pleased. “Miss Stevens, I’m not going to ask you again to stop obstructing this investigation.” He stepped closer to me, too close, forcing me to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. My back was flat against the closed door and he was less than two inches from pressing right into me. I breathed in the deep, musky scent of him, my legs getting even weaker. I could feel his hot breath on my face. It smelled like coffee and peppermints, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

  “Is this an investigation?” I asked, unable to speak above a whisper. “You don’t look like a detective.”

  His mouth curled into a dangerous grin. Instead of answering me, he dropped his hands to my waist, squeezing a little too hard as I inhaled a sharp breath at the feel of his thick fingers on me. He never broke eye contact, his heat soaking into my skin, as he slowly moved me out of his way. I wilted against the wall, catching my breath as he opened the door and turned on the light. I waited in the hallway while he did whatever cursory search he seemed to feel was necessary. As hot as he was—and he was fine as hell—I just wanted to get this place secured and cleaned up enough so I could go to bed. I hadn’t slept well the night before, or any night since I’d started sleeping on the cot. I was exhausted.

  He came back out into the hallway, looming over me, grinning wolfishly like he was about to blow my house down or something.

  “Are you sleeping here?” he asked, sounding more amused than he looked. And he looked pretty damned amused, like he’d seen something he really liked in that sad little storage room full of broken dreams and despair.

  “Is that really pertinent to this investigation?” I asked. I didn’t lift my hands to use air quotes, but the way I’d said investigation did a great job of implying them.

  “What’s your permanent address?” he asked.

  I bit my bottom lip.

  “Do you have a permanent address?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I snapped, feeling my cheeks burn.

  His grin deepened. “It’s a code violation if you’re sleeping here,” he said, not perturbed in the least by my saucy tone. I, on the other hand, was all kinds of perturbed by the way he was staring at me.

  “Well if you promise not to tell on me, I won’t tell on you.”

  “Tell on me for what?” he asked, his smile even more amused than it had been before, his dark eyes flashing in the yellow light from the bathroom.

  “All the sexual harassment.” I lifted my chin and staring up at him with bald defiance. “You touching me all the time. Standing too close. Undressing me with your eyes.”

  The expression on his face hardened, but his smile only widened, those hot eyes burning me alive. And, goddamn, was I happy to burn.

  “Trust me, if I wanted to undress you, I’d do it the old fashioned way.”

  A flush rocked up my neck and my whole face tingled. He’d inched closer again, his body so close I could feel the heat rolling off of him in waves.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” I said in a strangled tone.

  He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound rumbling in the air between us. “This looks like a straightforward smash and grab.” But he was telling me all of this in a low, erotic tone that was making my cheeks tingle even harder. Other places were tingling too. As soon as he left, I was going to have to ring out the panties I had on. If Chris wasn’t available for some fun tonight, I’d just picture Officer Scott standing here shirtless and get myself off. I had to find some way to relieve the crushing stress I was under, didn’t I?

  “I’ll write up a report that you can pick up from the station in the next day or so to give to your insurance company.” He lifted a bushy eyebrow, dark amusement coloring his features. “You do have insurance
, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I tried to snap, but it came out more weakly than I’d planned. And I did have insurance. For now. After the bump in premiums that yet another claim would bring, I doubted if I’d have it for long.

  “Well then you should be all set.” His steamy eyes moved past me to the storage room and the sad shape of the cot just beyond the door, surrounded by boxes of books, one of which I’d been using as a makeshift night table. “I’d secure that door before you settle in for the night.” His grin expanded and I wanted to sink through the floor.

  He walked back into the main area of the shop and I followed at a safe distance, not wanting to get caught up in the spicy smell of him and what his eyes could do to me up close. With all that had happened over the last shitty month and now this, the cherry on top of a rancid sundae, I was in a dark, needy place. The last thing I needed was Officer Hot Stuff injecting his smolder into my already mixed up life. Something wasn’t quite right with him. I didn’t want more trouble than I already had.

  He turned in the open doorway. “I’d get this secured first.”

  Before I could gather enough of my shattered wits to come up with a snappy response, he was gone, disappearing into the night the same way he’d come, leaving only his deep, masculine scent behind. My entire body unclenched at once and I nearly slid to the ground. I hadn’t noticed how tense I’d been since the cop had arrived.

  I went to the door in time to see him drive off, no lights this time, and pulled the door shut. I’d installed a few more locks on the inside so it would be extra secure once I had to start crashing here every night. So I actually could lock this place up for the night and worry about getting someone out here to help me with the broken lock in the morning. I turned over the three locks and tested how well they would hold with the splintered door frame. It seemed good enough for tonight.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse. Before I could think better of it, I dialed Chris. He answered after the fourth ring.