The Nightingale Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romantic Suspense

by Cynthia Dane

  “Okay, get the closet jokes out of your system now. I’ve heard them all. Just do it.”

  “Nala. Get out of there.”

  “Nala, come out of the closet? I didn’t know you were a lesbian fetishist, Vincent.”

  “Nala.”

  She pushed him out of the way and stepped into the hall, refusing to let her wounded pride show.

  “Were you ever going to tell me about this?”

  “Why the hell would I? You’re not my boyfriend.”

  He stepped back, as if her words stung. You’re not. Just because I fuck you doesn’t mean we’re serious. Nala was having a devil of a time keeping eye contact with him. “Nala,” he said again, this time more evenly. “This isn’t okay. This isn’t healthy. Honestly, I’m shocked. These people…” He glanced at the pot party going on in the living room, as if Nala’s “boyfriend” wouldn’t give a shit – hell, they probably hoped he would join in. “These people shouldn’t be doing this to you,” he hissed.

  “Would you step off?” Nala had half a mind to stick her finger in his chest. His hard, muscular chest that spent most of last night rubbing against her breasts. Fuuuuck.

  Surely he noticed how embarrassed she was becoming, right? Apparently not. “Come on, Nala. Pack up your most important things. We can get the rest later. You’re paid through the rest of the month, right?”

  “What?”

  Vincent reached in and started grabbing hangers full of clothes. “Do you have a suitcase we can put these in?”

  “What?”

  He swung toward her, that composed face now turning into something more… bereaved. “You’re coming to live with me, Nala. I can’t let this situation continue.”

  “Who the fuck are you!” Yet she stood there, probably in shock, watching this big ol’ businessman pull down a small rolling suitcase from the top shelf. Vincent emptied the contents and started stuffing it with the clothes he held in his hands. “What are you doing? I can’t go live with you!”

  “Nala.” He snatched her wrist and brought her close to him, his minty breath consuming her face. That’s not all I want him to consume… wait, what am I thinking… “Stop this. Stop being so stubborn. You don’t have to stay with me long-term. Come stay with me until we can find you a place more suitable.”

  She didn’t want to argue. God knew she wanted a new place to live… but with Vincent? Even if it was only temporary, that sounded like a recipe for a plague to end the ages. Besides, I don’t need him acting like a knight in shining armor. That only complicated what relationship they had. Nala would feel like shit, and, well, maybe Vincent would think she somehow owed him.

  “You ever think that maybe there’s no such thing as gender?” Patrick, high as a fucking kite, asked the air before him. “Oh! Or maybe each of us are all genders. Yeah, I’d like to believe that I’m all genders… and you too Nala…” he reached out for her, but she was too quick for his touch. “You’re a budding goddess of gender equality.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Nala, please. My car is out front.”

  “And this guy here! I don’t know who you are, man, but you’re super pretty. Would you be my girlfriend?”

  “Nala!”

  “All right!” She kicked open the suitcase and started dumping her underwear and T-shirts in as quickly as possible. “Get me the fuck out of here!”

  She may not have owned a lot, but it felt like an eternity getting her shit out of the closet and into Vincent’s car.

  ***

  By nightfall, Nala’s suitcase and assorted bags of clothes and items were shoved into a corner of Vincent’s loft. He promised to clean space out of a closet for her, no pun intended, but until then, she was left with living out of a suitcase… which was slightly better than her last situation.

  In the meantime, she told him the story of how she had come to Portland months ago, searched high and low for a place she could even dream of affording… and how every one of those places dried up because she wasn’t best friend material enough for them. Eventually she took what nobody else would even touch: Patrick’s coat closet. It wasn’t home, but it was warm and dry.

  Vincent glared at her the whole time she told this tale, as if he couldn’t imagine being so poor that he had to stoop so low as to live in a pothead’s closet. Of course he doesn’t have to think about those things. He’s a billionaire. Had been a millionaire at least for a while. Probably grew up upper middle class and always had the biggest bedroom in the house. Sigh.

  “I’ll buy out the rest of your lease,” he promised. “We’ll get you set up somewhere much better, if you don’t want to stay here. Would a one bedroom apartment downtown be good enough?”

  Nala sat on the couch, curled up into a tiny ball of rage as she thought about what Vincent was trying to do for her. Don’t make me owe you, asshole. “Even the rent alone is outrageous. Last time I looked, downtown apartments cost like a thousand bucks a month.”

  “I’m not talking about renting. I’m talking about buying you a place. I’ll invest in the taxes so you don’t have to worry about that. Pay for your food and the electric bill.”

  “Are you crazy?” Nala sat up, almost blinded by all the lights turned on in there. She had never seen Vincent’s loft so bright. “That’s a couple hundred grand, at least!”

  “It’s nothing, if it means you’re happy.”

  “I won’t be happy with that kind of arrangement,” she mumbled.

  “Fine. Two bedrooms. That’s my final offer.”

  Nala couldn’t be more exasperated if she tried. “That’s not my problem, and you know it.”

  “Then what in the world is your problem?”

  He sat at his dining table, sorting through his mail, still dressed in his business best – although the jacket was hung up in the closet he promised to clean out for her. “Nothing.” Nala wasn’t going to argue with him right now. Emotions are still too high. If Nala pushed this issue, she might make a bigger ass out of herself than she usually did. That would be a feat.

  “Look, don’t worry about putting me out. I’m not here during the day anyway. You can have the run of the place. Bathrooms are yours to use. Feel free to stock whatever you want in the kitchen. Cook whenever you want, although don’t worry about tonight. I’ll order us something.”

  Nala rolled her eyes, pulling a pillow down to her edge of the couch and looking around for a blanket. She was ready for a nap after all that crap.

  “What are you doing?”

  “This is my bed, ain’t it? Last I checked you don’t have a guest room. Please point me in the direction if you do, though. Otherwise I’m claiming this couch in the name of the great state of Nala Nazarov, one of the final frontiers real estate Xavier Crow has yet to touch.”

  Vincent tossed his mail onto the table. “Don’t be stupid. Of course you can sleep with me.”

  “Oh, I have every assumption that says I would be allowed, even welcomed to do that.” Vincent would probably like it. He’s been aching for a proper sleepover ever since he decided his boner for me was more than okay. Yet there was a reason Nala kept leaving before the cuddle party could totally start. She was not going to push herself now. “But I’m not interested. Probably a bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Come off it, Vincent. You know we should keep things separate. Especially if this is only temporary. When you buying me that apartment, again?”

  Although she didn’t turn around to find out for herself, she could feel his glare burrowing into the back of her skull.

  “I’ll look into it when I can. Possibly starting tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.”

  Vincent grumbled into the back of his hand before scooting his chair and getting up. “You can be a pain in the ass, you know. Not because I want to find you a new place to live, or because you’re staying here for now, but because you’re such a stubborn ass about it.”

  Nala crossed her arms over the blanket enshrouding her. Where’s t
he TV remote? Time I took this big bad boy for a spin. For once, she didn’t mean Vincent. “I have my boundaries. Don’t press me.”

  “Boundaries are one thing, Nala. You’re pushing me away.”

  “As we established earlier, you ain’t my boyfriend, now are you?”

  “No. No, I’m not.” He stood behind her, finger tracing a gentle line down her side. What the? “But I should at least be your friend by this point. After all that crap you said to me last night? What makes you think you can keep getting away with closing off your heart and pushing everyone away?”

  Nala tightened her hold on herself. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

  Vincent rounded the couch and sat down by her feet, reaching into his pants pocket and withdrawing a small, rectangular black box. Is that… “This is what I had come by to give you.”

  Nala was afraid to sit up. Whatever lurked in that box was nothing good.

  “Don’t give me that look. Stop stewing in your perceived misfortunes and learn how to take a gift.”

  Scoffing, Nala tossed back the blanket and sat up in a flash. Her legs swung around, her hands disappearing beneath her thighs as she regarded Vincent with a half-interested look. “All right, lay the diamond earrings on me.”

  “They’re not earrings.” Vincent opened the box in front of her face. “Nor diamonds. Those things wouldn’t suit you.”

  Nala tried to not look at the contents. Something glistened, catching her eye and then her full attention as she realized a long, silver chain illuminated in the loft lights.

  “What is…”

  Vincent pulled it out of the box with one hand and pulled back her hair with the other. Her neck was barely exposed because of her hoodie, but somehow, Vincent managed to get the silver choker around her throat. Thank God it was adjustable, because initially it was much too tight before he loosened it enough to let her breathe comfortably.

  She touched the pendant hanging from the center, feeling the outline of a bird taking off in flight. She didn’t have to ask what it was.

  “It’s a Nightingale,” Vincent confirmed. “This is your new collar for The Aviary.”

  “My collar…”

  “Surely you’ve noticed the other women wearing theirs. I should have bought one for you sooner, otherwise people will start asking questions, but…” Vincent sat back. “I wanted to pick out the perfect one for you. It’s customary for the Dom to choose it, you know.”

  Who says? Nevertheless, Nala felt it with her fingertips, swallowing hard, making sure she still could. The bastard has collared me? No, it was only for The Aviary, where Nightingale would be expected to prance around showing off how “owned” she was. Oh my God, I asked him to totally own me last night. Nala looked away, in half disgust and half shame. This isn’t me. This showed how imperative it was to have separate sleeping arrangements… if not living ones.

  “I’m sorry if it’s not to your tastes. I tried to keep what I knew in mind when I went and picked it out. It’s custom made. The man who made it comes from a long line of jewelers in the area. It’s one of the best qualities a woman could have.”

  “What about you? What do you wear to show everyone that you belong to me?”

  “Well… it doesn’t really work like that.”

  “Maybe it should,” Nala mumbled. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” she said, louder. “But it’s out of left field, and after what happened last night…”

  Vincent stiffened beside her. Suddenly her body called to his, for comfort, at least. Neither of them succumbed. “I hope you don’t regret that. I know it was a night… I don’t expect anything out of it. This is for The Aviary. I don’t actually think you’re my…”

  How sad that neither of them could say the word. “I know. I know we’re on the same page, theoretically, but then things go to some other level and I’m not sure what’s going on anymore. It confuses me. I don’t really want to be your sub, Vincent. I don’t mind the sex, but I want to make it clear that I’m not your girlfriend, and you’re not my boyfriend. Even though it might be best if we remain exclusive until we’re done here.”

  “Yes,” he readily agreed. “That’s a good idea. Things are already complicated enough as they are, and we don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “Not that I was dating anyway.”

  “Neither was I.”

  Nala leaned back in the couch, the collar still lingering around her throat. “You could really have any woman you want, you know. You should tell me who your ultimate type is. Maybe I can help you get a real girlfriend after all this is over.”

  Vincent looked askance at her. “You’re something else, Nala.”

  “What? I’m serious. I’ll take good care of you. Find you a nice girl who would really appreciate your charms and what you do for a living. Oh, and the money, duh.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “In return, maybe you could introduce me to some of your rich business buddies. After I’ve lived with you long enough I’ll be used to a certain standard of living. Don’t wanna let it go too soon. Especially if it means I get more gifts like this.” She touched the nightingale charm again.

  “What makes you think I would let you anywhere near those men? None of them are your type.”

  “Neither are you, really.”

  “How so?”

  “Really? You’re way too uptight for me. I need a man who can relax and enjoy himself, and not just with sex.”

  “Then you’re not going to like any of my buddies. If you think I’m uptight? You’ve never met another million or billionaire. I am the chillest guy at the country club.”

  “You actually go to a country club?”

  “It’s a figure of speech. I hate golf. Only do it when I have to for work.”

  “What a hard life you live.”

  Vincent propped his elbow on the back of the couch and regarded her with mild amusement. “Yes, and now your life is going to be so hard by association. All the healthy food you can eat. If you have a license, you can use my other car…

  “You have another car?”

  “…There’s a lady that comes by once a week to deep clean the whole loft. We’re first on every takeout list in the area, and you can put whatever you want on my tabs there. My accountant pays them off for me once a month.”

  “You’re right. It sounds like a hard life. How will I know what restaurant to order out from?”

  “I go with the darts method. Or follow your stomach.”

  Nala sighed, her whole body moving with her breaths. The choker constrained her throat, but she could still fill her lungs, and that was all that mattered. “Could you please take this thing off me and put it away? I don’t want to wear it until tomorrow.”

  Vincent unclasped the collar and took it away, upstairs, into a drawer Nala didn’t have to know about. This is almost too much for me. Living with Vincent. Possibly sleeping with Vincent. Letting Vincent pay for her food and services. Using Vincent’s cleaning lady to help her do laundry…

  “I’m going to keep my job,” Nala said the moment Vincent came back downstairs. “I’m not going to entirely rely on you, and I still want my thousand a week stipend.” She had to build her own savings before this all came crashing down like an old, demolished building. Nala had no reason to believe it wouldn’t end like that. I’ll lose my temper. He’ll decide I’m too high maintenance to deal with. Rinse and repeat until I’m out on my ass, maybe in that tax-free condo for however long he decides to keep paying the taxes on it. That still seemed too good to be true. Nala didn’t believe in good fortune like that. Her life was built around losing, not gaining.

  “Of course you’ll keep your job. I wouldn’t have suggested otherwise.” Vincent went into the kitchen and picked up his phone. “So, what should we have for dinner? Should we get out the dart board?”

  Nala curled into the couch again. “I want something healthy and filling. I’ve only had oatmeal today.”

  “Ther
e’s a bistro down the way that will deliver turkey dinners. How does that sound?”

  Absolutely ridiculous. How could she say no to a free Thanksgiving dinner long before it was Thanksgiving?

  Vincent ate at the dining table, typing on a laptop and occasionally talking business on the phone. Nala ate with a tray at the couch, watching TV with the volume low enough for Vincent to hear his phone calls. Good. Don’t eat dinner with him. Would be one thing if she were visiting. Living with him? No. That blurred the lines of their relationship way too much.

  As gracious of a host as Vincent tried to be, there were many things he continuously overlooked and nearly drove Nala to her death with. Didn’t he know that she needed her own towel? One that she would probably use every day? What did he mean that was gross? What kind of upbringing did he have where there was more than one towel per person? Oh. Right. Upper middle class kid from Fresno.

  Nala forgot her toothbrush. Did he have any spares? Ew! She was not using his – she didn’t care how often they had kissed!

  How did one turn off the TV? Okay, so what if she wanted to play all his pre-release games? The man had a fucking copy of Fallout before anyone else!

  No, she would not wait for the cleaning lady to do the dishes. No, she would not wait for the cleaning lady to fold her clothes and put them away somewhere. No, she would not wait for the cleaning lady for anything! Damnit, Nala was an adult and would damn well clean up her own messes after making them. This didn’t mean, however, that she was suddenly Vincent’s maid. He could keep paying the cleaning lady for that.

  “I’ll change in the bathroom,” Nala mumbled, after Vincent refused to understand why she might want some privacy, even though he had seen her naked enough times by now.

  Nala made herself a bed on the couch downstairs, content with watching TV until her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. Vincent, however, insisted on bringing down the other pillow from his bed for her to curl up with. He also brought down a spare blanket and tossed it over her body when she least expected it.