The Billionaires: The Bosses

by Calista Fox

  They stared at each other as a few tense seconds stretched between them. Then she said, “I know about you and Christian. I know you both want me. Wanted me…”

  “We still want you. We both still want you, Bayli.”

  She pulled in a sharp breath.

  Rory raked a hand through his hair. “Does that scare you?”

  Her mouth opened, but no words materialized. Her arms dropped. She turned away. Propped her hands on her hips. Stared up at the ceiling.

  She said, “I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  He couldn’t take the distance a moment longer. He closed the gap in two wide strides and placed his hands at the dip of her waist, above hers. His head lowered and he murmured against her bare neck, “If you’re not afraid of me, honey, then what are you afraid of? The way I make you feel?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His fingers curled into her, gripping her firmly. He felt the shudder run through her. “You want me doing things to you no one else has ever done, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And you want Christian to be with us when I do. You want him touching you when I’m inside you.”

  “Yes.”

  Rory’s cock now pulsed in wicked beats. His heart hammered. Adrenaline roared through his veins.

  “That’s what Christian and I want, too.”

  She let out a small, strangled sound. “I don’t know how—”

  He released her. Turned her to face him. Stared deep into her eyes. “Stop saying you don’t know how. We’ll show you how. You don’t have to know everything, Bayli, understand everything. I get that’s a part of who you are, but not when it comes to something like this. You’re not going to find the answer in your books. You have to trust us to lead the way. And—hell. It’s not even us leading, really. It’s you giving in to us and letting us make you feel good. It’s you commanding us in that sense. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  He lifted a hand to her face, desperately needing to touch her, to whisk his thumb over her furrowed brow, brush his fingertips across her cheek. He also craved kissing her. But he didn’t want to smudge all of her expertly applied makeup. He couldn’t even palm the side of her neck, because he could see she’d blended powder along her throat to cover the marks he’d left behind.

  His hand returned to her waist and he pulled her tightly to him, felt the quick rise and fall of her chest against his. Her hands clutched his biceps as she gazed up at him.

  He said, “Christian and I have had other women, yes. But none that affected us this way. I’ve been going crazy this week, dying to see you. But knowing I had to wait for you to come to me. I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way. I never would. I—”

  “You didn’t, Rory. I’ve been struggling with this whole time continuum thing, thinking I should be so much further along in life than I am.”

  “It’s not a contest, babe.”

  “Says the man who opens a new restaurant every two years.” She didn’t say this flippantly; it was more insistent. “Look at all that you’ve achieved. And you’re only thirty-two.”

  “You’re only twenty-seven. Where’s the fire?”

  She laughed softly, helping to alleviate some of his tension. “I don’t expect you to fully grasp all this. But, Rory…” Her tone turned serious and the mist coated her glowing eyes again. “I don’t want to be the girl hiding in the stacks anymore. I want to be someone. I want my mother to know that she didn’t have me in vain. That there was a purpose to her putting her life on the line for mine. Whatever possessed her to have me when it put her own health in such extreme danger—it has to mean something. I can’t let her regret it or let it all be for naught.”

  “Bayli.” Fuck. His heart wrenched once more. “You talked about me being an overachiever and all the pressure that brings, without taking your own damn advice. You don’t have to conquer the world by the time you’re thirty—you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Sure as hell not your mom. Because even if your face never graced the cover of a magazine or your name never became a household one, she’d still be proud of you and she’d still stand by her decision to have you. Come on … even I know that. Neanderthal chef that I am.”

  She sniffled. He had to catch the tears with his thumb and sweep them away before they tumbled down her cheeks.

  “Stop thinking you have to be everything to everyone, Bayli.” He stared hard into her eyes. “Just be you. Swear to God, you won’t go wrong.”

  She smiled again. It wasn’t the megawatt one he’d hoped for. In fact, it was a bit shaky. But he’d take what he could get at the moment.

  Bayli said, “Who would have guessed Angsty Chef could be so sensitive? Not a Neanderthal at all.”

  “Angsty Chef, huh?”

  “Mm.” She shrugged. “If the jacket fits…”

  “Ha. Ha.” He very lightly kissed her cheek. “Remember that you promised to keep my secrets.”

  “Wise on my part. Less competition for me that way.” She winked.

  Rory was about to tell her there was no competition for her, but she was already collecting her things and heading to the door.

  Still, he felt compelled to call after her. “Bayli…”

  She glanced at him over a bare shoulder and said, “I’ll sign. And not just because I want to be famous.”

  She disappeared into the hallway while Rory worked to get his dick—and his heart—under control.

  THIRTEEN

  Bayli took a few moments to collect herself in the servers’ station, inhaling deeply in hopes of getting her racing pulse and raging hormones under control. For as much as Rory had tripped something profound and emotional within her, he also got her hot and bothered.

  And Bayli knew Christian would have the same effect on her when she saw him again.

  She stepped into the bar and was greeted once more by Pierre, who escorted her to a curved booth tucked into a far corner by a fireplace. It was a seductively lit area and the shape of the booth was cozy and intimate, offering a bit of privacy.

  “Monsieur Davila will be right with you. May I pour champagne?”

  “Oui. Merci.”

  He smiled appreciatively at her enunciation of his native language. Then he popped the cork on a bottle of private-reserve Dom Perignon that Bayli suspected cost more than her rent. He splashed a little into a glass for her to sample. As if she’d know whether it was substandard. But she sipped anyway. Decided it was time to play fake it until you make it if she was going to pull off this new venture. Both of these new ventures.

  Her toes curled as she recalled what Rory had said about him and Christian still wanting her. And damn … Rory had been so amazing. Not at all mocking, not trivializing what she was going through. No, he’d just let her work through it while he helped her. Solid as oak.

  She gave a nod for Pierre to pour.

  The spark between her legs when she caught sight of Christian heading her way undermined her more valiant ruminations. Because her brain was suddenly overrun with thoughts of his cock in her mouth in the back of the limo. His mouth on her when they’d been in her apartment. The way he’d fucked her …

  Heat crept up her neck. She couldn’t stop the blush.

  Christian slid into the seat beside her, his leg brushing hers and making her flush deeper.

  He leaned in and whispered, “That shade of pink on your cheeks is stunning. You were just thinking of my hands on your body, weren’t you?”

  “Not just your hands,” she corrected. And sipped. The crisp champagne did nothing to douse the flames inside her, flickering brighter than those in the hearth.

  He draped an arm around her shoulders and said, “You look much more relaxed than earlier. Is it the bubbly or did you and Rory work things out?”

  “This is my first glass.”

  “Then you and Rory worked things out. Good.” He waited for Pierre to serve him a glass as well before continuing. “I had a feeling you’d help him set the
record straight.”

  “I didn’t have to help him. He did it all on his own.” She gazed at Christian and said, “As much as I agonized over what had happened in his apartment, I think he agonized even more.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. He tends to keep things bottled up. Probably why he’s so explosive in the kitchen.”

  “Because he can control that environment a bit more than his emotions?”

  “That’s an intelligent conjecture.”

  “Hmm.” She sipped again. Then asked, “And what about you? Do you always just say what’s on your mind?”

  “Pretty much.” He grinned devilishly.

  “Well, that creates a very enticing dynamic between the two of you.”

  “A little contrast to keep us from being too boring.”

  “Oh, come on now. Neither of you could ever be boring.” She placed her hand on his thigh. “And you both know it.”

  His voice dropped again as he asked, “Are you flirting with me, Miss Styles?”

  “Oh, hell, yes,” she said on a lusty breath.

  Christian chuckled. A deep, rumbling sound that echoed through her body and made all her erogenous zones pulse erratically. She loved how she responded to something as simple as his laugh as much as she reacted to something as evocative as the way his ice-blue irises seemed to melt when he looked at her and how his fingertips sweeping over her skin made her tingle all over.

  Bayli realized it was a damn good thing she was becoming accustomed to these two men separately, because as a whole … Holy cow. She already knew she was in for sensory overload.

  The thought had her squirming in her seat. Christian eyed her curiously.

  She crossed her legs and pressed her thighs together. “Just a few fireworks down there.”

  “That’s hot, sweetheart.” His warm breath tickled the shell of her ear, not helping her to get a grip on the riotous sensations one little bit.

  “Behave.”

  “You started it. Flirting with me and wearing that sexy dress.”

  “I borrowed it from a friend.”

  “Who can’t possibly look as fine in it as you do.”

  “She does, actually. But she’s already spoken for, so don’t get any ideas.”

  He laughed low and sensuously again. “Think I have my hands full with you. Luckily, I have help.”

  Damn all those pinpricks targeting her pussy. “Ironically enough, her Boyfriend Number One-A has help from her Boyfriend Number One-B.” She gave him a pointed look.

  “Aha.” Christian gave a slow nod. “Gotcha.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I had some questions. And since Jewel is the only woman on the planet I know who is even more fortunate than me … I sort of picked her brain.”

  Christian let out a low groan.

  Bayli shifted in her seat again as the zings ensued. “That is one of the sexiest sounds you make,” she told him. “It causes everything to go haywire inside me.”

  His fingers curled around her biceps as he tucked her tighter under his arm and murmured, “This is a conversation I’d prefer to have in private. While you’re naked.”

  “Then let’s put it on hold until later.” Her heart jumped. Was she being too presumptuous? “Unless you have other plans, of course.”

  “I do, actually.” He loosened his grip on her and put an inch of space between them as the server approached. But under his breath, Christian added, “They involve you, me, and Rory … at my apartment. Naked, in case I haven’t made that perfectly clear. Okay by you?”

  Her entire body lit up like a bonfire. She had to duck her head as the fire ignited on her cheeks. “You’re going to have to order for me,” she said, all breathy and deeply aroused. Christ, she couldn’t speak in her normal voice, let alone look the server in the eye when she made a selection. And who the fuck was she kidding? She wouldn’t even be able to concentrate on the menu!

  Christian said, “No worries. Rory is whipping something up for the three of us. He just needs to know how you like your steak, or if you want sea bass, cedar-plank salmon, or lamb instead.”

  “Steak. Medium rare.”

  “Perfect.” Christian relayed the information.

  Bayli reached for her champagne and drained the glass. “I’m going to need a refill. Jesus, it’s suddenly so hot in here.”

  Christian gestured for Pierre to return to their table as he said to Bayli, “Everyone else appears to be quite comfortable with the temperature.”

  “So humorous,” she said with a smirk. “It’s only because they’re not sitting next to a gorgeous, dark-haired, blue-eyed man who can electrically charge the air with little more than a suggestive chuckle and a few wicked words.”

  “Not really looking to charge the air, sweetheart.” He grinned. “Just you.”

  “Well, you’re doing a stellar job of it.”

  “I sort of suspected that.”

  Pierre refreshed their champagne and left them.

  Christian clinked the rim of his glass against Bayli’s and said, “Here’s to a successful affair.”

  “Business or pleasure?”

  “Both, of course.” He sipped, then added, “Unless there’s something I’m missing.” One corner of his mouth dipped. “I highly doubt you could conceal a packet of contracts somewhere in that dress.”

  “I didn’t bring them,” she affirmed. “They’re not signed.”

  “Bayli.” He set aside his glass. Got deathly serious. “Whatever you’re worrying about when it comes to me and Rory, however much time you need with that, I completely understand. No one’s pressuring you there. But don’t let anything related to our personal relationships hold you back from a great professional opportunity. Rory and I would never want you to pass up a chance to fulfill an aspiration because of anything happening with us behind closed doors. These are sole and separate enterprises.”

  “Enterprises?”

  He sighed. “You know what I’m getting at—you compartmentalize. Work is one thing. Private affairs are something altogether different.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So what’s keeping you from signing?”

  She took another long drink, then said, “I needed to see Rory first. And now that I have … I’m ready to move forward with the show.”

  “The two of you truly hashed it all out?”

  “I needed to feel less moronic and he set me straight.”

  Christian’s gaze narrowed. “Bayli.”

  “My words, Christian,” she told him. “Don’t read anything into my insecurity.”

  He didn’t lighten up on the scrutiny. “Rory can be—”

  “Intimidating, a lot to handle all at once, difficult to dissect … yes. Absolutely. And I fell prey to all of that. My own doing. I got sidetracked and thought I couldn’t compartmentalize. When it comes to you, Rory, and the show, I’m not fully convinced that I can put it all into my convenient silos. So it threw me a little. But after speaking with Rory”—she shrugged—“I now feel as though I don’t want everything in my life to be convenient and easily stacked.”

  “That’s not anything I expected to hear you say.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m just telling you that I will sign the contract and I’m absolutely thrilled about the show. And I want whatever could happen with you, me, and Rory to actually … happen.”

  There. She’d said it. Put the desire for her own ménage into the universe.

  And smiled at the new wave of flames that danced along her skin.

  * * *

  Christian was having a hell of a time concentrating on the conversation. Bayli was animatedly discussing some of the places she’d like him and Rory to consider for the test audience/webcast portion of the show while Rory was still in the kitchen prepping their meal.

  Her cheeks were rosy, her hands were gesturing about—so much so that Christian discreetly moved her glass of champagne out of the way twice—and she was as radiant as he’d known she’d be when he’d first envis
ioned her in front of TV cameras.

  No two ways about it, Christian wasn’t just lusting after her. It was quickly becoming so much more. She’d said the other day that she wanted to weave her own web to hook him and Rory. What she didn’t know was that she’d already done just that. And Christian and his friend only got more tangled up with every passing moment in her presence.

  Christian knew that Rory would take the blame for his bungled afternoon with her on Sunday only if he was truly, deeply, passionately interested in her. Otherwise, he would have been dismissive, because Rory didn’t have the time or the patience for calming unsettled waters. When things got complicated romantically, Rory was the first to walk away.

  Not so when it came to Bayli Styles.

  And it was evident that she felt the rift had been mended, because she was reaching all-new levels of vibrancy with her brilliant smile and contagious laugh.

  She told Christian, “So there were Phillip and Colin, stranded in the Dominican Republic with no luggage after like twenty hours of traveling and three different airline connections, and the resort restaurants had strict dress codes and wouldn’t let them in for dinner because they were in shorts and flip-flops—Abercrombie and Fitch, but whatever, apparently the labels got them nowhere—and there was no on-site shop to buy pants. They were starving, and even Colin’s incredible charisma and Phillip’s increasingly huge bribe couldn’t get them past the maître d’ since the management didn’t want any precedents being set on his watch. They were about to tear each other’s hair out—or gnaw on each other’s legs—when the bartender told them of a men’s clothing shop in town. Well…”

  She reached for her champagne, her head cocking to the side briefly as she seemed to ponder if she’d really put it that far out of reach. She shrugged again and sipped. Christian grinned.

  “What happened?” he asked, already liking her friends because, from what he’d gleaned from the past two stories she’d told of the couple, they were highly protective of Bayli and adored her to pieces.

  Returning her glass to the table—and visibly noting where she’d set it—Bayli said, “The bartender was getting off in ten minutes and offered to take them into town. Only”—she snickered affably—“Phillip and Colin assumed he’d drive them in his car.”