THE DADDY NEXT DOOR: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Heaven’s Horns MC)

by Nicole Fox

  Francesca made a face, which she quickly turned into a winning smile. “You are a doll. I’ll take the $12,000 in whatever denominations you have, but I need a few ones and twenties in the mix if you don’t mind.” Francesca batted her lashes, and not a single question was raised. The banker just did it.

  “The upside of everyone thinking you’re bad with money: the bankers don’t ask what you’re going to do with it. They just assume you’re going to do something stupid.” She almost laughed. She supposed she was doing something stupid with it. This much for a few dirty photos.

  Shrugging, Francesca turned her attention back to her photo. After much thought, she decided to go with one of the shots where Logan was holding her up and she was arching her back. If she hadn’t been there herself, she would have sworn this was a photo of two people actually having sex. After a few moments of touching up the photo on her phone and cropping the faces out, Francesca decided it was perfect.

  “OMG, check out the hot dude I met last night!” she typed out carefully after mulling over the exact wording. It was perfect. And before she could question her decision, she attached the photo she’d cleaned up to the text, then sent it “accidentally” to Davis’s phone number. Feeling smug, Francesca daydreamed and waited for a reply. “He’ll probably beg for me back right away, selfish jerk.”

  So busy was she daydreaming about what she was going to do with all of that money her brother would owe her, she completely missed it when the news station on the bank’s TV above her head ran a story featuring Logan’s pretty face.

  Instead, she dreamed of watching Davis crawl back to her, his face all twisted up in horror as he realized that Francesca had no intention of taking him back. The thought was tinged with just a touch of guilt at trying to make her ex feel bad, but she managed to convince herself she was in the right. A little. Maybe.

  He cheated on me; he deserves a little hurt, too. Doesn’t he?

  The teller returned, handing her an unmarked envelope. With a quick glance inside, Francesca shook the banker’s hand. “Thank you for your help,” she said, a smile on her face.

  The desert was, as deserts usually are, hot and dry, even in the fall. The sun was shining down on the hard-packed earth. The cacti looked full of water and brilliant, with greens and little white blooms on them. Francesca didn’t spend much time out in the desert, but she loved it. It wasn’t brilliantly green like the family beach house on the east coast, but it did have its own strange kind of charm.

  Humming some pop tune, Francesca checked her phone as she got into her car, turning the A/C up to arctic as she slid into the driver’s seat. She loved her cars, but this one, her white and gold Porsche 911, was her favorite. It was fast and handled like a German vehicle was supposed to. And she looked absolutely fabulous in it.

  There were three texts from Davis, and she pushed to open them immediately. She couldn't wait to see his response.

  The moment she read them, her face fell, and the guilt that had been blooming in her chest turned to full-on depression in seconds.

  “Wow, this is low even for you, Francesca. This is sad.”

  “I can’t believe how trashy you are. How did I not see it before?”

  “You’re a classless whore; I’m glad we’re no longer together.”

  Francesca stared down at the screen of her phone, shaking with a combination of tears and anger. A feeling of lost, hopeless betrayal joined the mix, which was odd. Hadn’t Davis already betrayed her? She shouldn’t have expected anything less from him, in fact.

  “Well, I’m not going to give up.” She pondered over the texts for a second, then sent a quick reply text. “Oh, gross, wrong person.”

  Then she blocked his number, ensuring that whatever messages he sent after this wouldn’t show up as “read” on his screen. She would unblock him later, but for now, she needed him to know how little he meant to her. How little his opinion meant. If he believed that she was already completely over him, it would help to bring him around to her again.

  “I may need to find a way to get Logan to stick around a little longer.” She frowned, her heart feeling uncertain and a little unstable. But she took a deep breath, wiped away her tears and thought up a new plan. It looked like it was going to take more than a naughty photo to make Davis want her again. Luckily, she wasn’t out of ideas yet.

  Chapter Six

  Logan

  Logan snooped around the house, his fingers running over the pieces of expensive furnishings. Although he was pretty sure that Francesca would be coming back soon to give him the money she had promised, he still had this uncontrollable urge to check the house for valuables. It was like the pull of other people’s wealth was nearly unstoppable; it filled every inch of his veins with the desire to steal, to stuff any of these expensive things in his pockets and run off with them.

  “But you won’t need it; Francesca will bring you the money back. No problem.” His palms started to sweat a little at the thought of just grabbing something on his way out. Something small, a souvenir. Something she wouldn’t miss. Not until he was long gone.

  His prowling brought him into her bedroom, searching the room for a jewelry box or safe or something that might have held any pricey jewelry or other heirlooms.

  Other than a few spare pieces of clothing tossed about, her room was just as clean as the rest of the house. Everything in here was white and silver, all of the surfaces glittering and dustless. Her comforter looked like it was made out of some sort of solid white animal. The sheets were in complete disarray, as if she tossed and turned in her sleep as much as Logan hadn’t. “Perhaps she really missed that prick that cheated on her, though I can’t imagine she’ll be lonely for much long with a body like that.”

  Logan was on his way to the dresser when he noticed something lacy on the floor. He glanced down at it, his body instantly reacting to the sight. This was the lingerie she was wearing last night. While we took those pictures. He could remember every detail of that fifteen minutes she’d been in his room with him, rutting up against him like a porn star. He’d found himself painfully aroused after her photo session finished up.

  “She is one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen,” he thought, wistfully, his eyes locked on the silky underthings still gripped between his fingers.

  “I wonder what it would like to have her, if only just once.” He imagined that, unlike most selfish and pretty women, this one enjoyed sex, enjoyed watching her partners have just as much fun as she did. Francesca seemed like the type of person who was willing to experiment, too. “She’d be a lot of fun to tie to those silver bedposts.”

  Before his thoughts got so dark and dirty that he did something foolish, Logan heard a sound from downstairs that sounded like doors slamming.

  Two female voices argued back and forth, one loud and demanding, the other quieter and reserved, but still managing to sound mad. They continued to argue as Logan slipped out of Francesca’s room and to the stairs, hoping the two women didn’t realize where he was coming from. He didn’t have a ready excuse for being in Francesca’s bedroom, and he didn’t think he’d be able to lie smoothly enough to get through an interrogation about it. Best to keep relations as good with Francesca as possible until he was well out of the States.

  Jogging down the stairs, Logan came face to face with two pairs of twin, shining emerald eyes, both alight with anger. Francesca was standing across the kitchen from the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed over her perfect breasts. She was pouting, her bottom lip pushed out from her mouth like a child not getting her way in a candy store. Logan blinked, eyes sliding between her and the other woman who could have been a carbon copy of Francesca from 20 years in the future.

  Eyes flicking between them, Logan slid closer to Francesca. He crossed his arms in a protective sort of stance as the two women studied him. Francesca looked away from him, her face twisting with some sort of emotion he couldn’t describe. She didn’t look happy. The older woman, most likely Fr
ancesca’s mother, was wearing a wickedly happy expression that Logan didn’t like the look of at all.

  “I am Francesca’s mother, Diane Savoy,” the blonde woman said, her voice tinted with a slightly Hispanic-sounding accent. Well, this was near enough to the border that the accent would be pretty normal. But not normally found on the tongues of natural blondes with green eyes. “I have a proposition for you, my boy. One I think you’ll have a tough time turning down.”

  Digging in her purse, Diane pulled all the cash she could find out of the nooks and crannies, piling every bill she found onto the kitchen table between them. After a few seconds of staring at the stack of money she’d made, she frowned at it. “About five thousand bucks there. More on the way if you agree, boy.”

  “Agree to what?” Logan asked, standing up a little straighter. “These people throw around money like they have no idea what it’s worth.”

  “You will play bodyguard and boyfriend to my daughter here,” she pointed a manicured nail at Francesca, running her tongue over her Botox-swollen lips. “Once you make that idiot boyfriend of hers jealous enough to come crawling back on his hands and knees, you’ll be paid in full to disappear. Leaving my daughter with Davis.”

  It was pretty obvious that Francesca was used to Diane controlling every aspect of her life. She didn’t even turn to look at him when Logan tried to catch her eye.

  After a second, Logan cleared his throat. “Is this what you want, Francesca?”

  Blinking surprise, Francesca looked at him, her face pale as a ghost under her tan. Then she shrugged, her face impassive.

  Diane started talking figures, the numbers steadily getting higher if he was successful. “You’ll end up a wealthy man by the end, if you do your job right.”

  Without looking back at Francesca, Logan stared at the money on the counter, trying to figure out how he could stay with a public figure like Francesca and still keep the low profile he’d need to not end up in jail for the rest of his life.

  “And there’s the other thing,” a part of him whispered from the depths of his soul. “That Davis asshole doesn’t deserve to lick Francesca’s boots.” Knowing this whole idea to be a mistake, Logan stared down the matron of the Savoy household, trying to figure out a way to get out of this.

  # # #

  Francesca

  Francesca, already feeling deflated, had the rest of her hopes dashed when she pulled up to her house to see her mother’s car in the driveway. She pulled the Porsche into the garage, bracing herself for the unavoidable fight that was about to happen.

  Francesca’s mother looked much like Francesca plus twenty years. “Or like I will if I marry someone I hate and become bitter and controlling.”

  Like if Francesca married Davis. She winced at that thought.

  “Oh crap, I don't want to end up like my mom.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Diane Savoy, the matron of house Savoy and one of the most controlling people in the world, said without even a greeting. “You find the wealthiest, best-looking, most camera-ready, and most stable boys in the state to date, and then you dumped him for fucking Nikk? Are you an idiot, girl? Of course he’s going to sleep around; that’s what rich men do.”

  Francesca sighed, taking her coffee and the packet with Logan’s money out of her car. She didn’t bother interrupting; once Diane got started, nothing would shut her up until she was done ranting.

  “His little cheating doesn’t undo his great career or how good he would be on the show. And don’t you dare roll your eyes at me, Kitten. You know you won’t find anyone better than he is for you.”

  “I already have,” Francesca said calmly, turning away from her mother.

  Diane paused in her speech, sputtering. Francesca found a little joy in her flabbergasted expression. Her mom wasn’t used to be interrupted, and Francesca had just contradicted her and interrupted with three little words. Diane looked unhappy, then livid. “Don’t you walk away from me; I’m not done speaking to you!”

  Taking a deep breath, Francesca turned back to her mother. “Could we not fight on the front lawn, hmm?”

  “Who is this other guy?”

  “Logan. He’s an aspiring actor.”

  Diane laughed right in her face, making Francesca want to run away. But she forced her feet to hold still and take it, not letting Diane know how much her laughter was making Francesca crazy. “You need Davis back for the next season of the show. He’s going to be a big part of next season! Beside, this fake boyfriend you have is probably not even a real person, is he? You’re going to need more than a rumor to make your man jealous enough to want you back.”

  Francesca narrowed her eyes. “Marston told you. About our bet.”

  “Of course he did; you and your brother and your stupid bets. You two should know how much this affecting the family, and our show!” Diane started up with the dramatics. Francesca turned away and started walking toward the house before the waterworks could start up. “I’ll give you the money you’ll lose to your brother if you start acting like a grown up and just take Davis back already.”

  “I won’t lose to Marston!” Francesca snapped, knowing how childish she sounded. She didn’t even care, either. What was it about her mom that brought out the worst in her?

  Diane rolled her pretty green eyes, flapping her hands around like a bird trying to take off. “Oh, would you think about someone else beside yourself for a second,” she said, slamming the door behind herself. “You know your brother made that same bet with Davis as he did with you?”

  Francesca was livid, her emerald eyes nearly glowing from fury. “He what?”

  “Oh yes,” Diane said, her voice wickedly happy. She seemed to find more joy than usual this morning in making her daughter as miserable as possible. “So, where is this fake boyfriend?”

  Francesca felt all of her anger leave her like a balloon being deflated. There was no point in staying mad at her mom; it only made Diane happy and Francesca miserable. “Fine, he’s not actually my boyfriend,” she admitted, not happy about it. “Logan is just some guy I met yesterday. I was going to use him to make Davis jealous.” Francesca scooted across the kitchen, unconsciously putting the counter between her and her mother.

  Diane’ eyes narrowed. “He’ll need a better back story than aspiring artist.” She tapped a manicured nail against her Botox lips, her eyes crawling across the ceiling as she thought through it. “If he’s beefy enough, we can tell people he’s a bodyguard.”

  “He’s beefy enough,” Francesca said, shivering to remember that muscled body pressed against her own.

  “Then you two can fall in lust and get together. Some public appearances with super-alpha hunky bodyguard boyfriend will be just the thing to make Davis come crawling back. Then we’ll both be happy, right?” She looked over Francesca with icy green eyes, not a lick of emotion in either one, except maybe exasperation at her daughter.

  “But I don’t want to be with Davis.” She still loved him, as much as she hated to admit that, even to herself. But that didn’t change what he did. That didn’t change how slimy he was about the whole thing, with the fake name and picking up girls like he was single. How many times had he done it before? She chewed on her thumbnail. But Mrs. Diane had spoken, so Francesca would have no choice but to go along.

  She always went along with whatever her mother wanted.

  Logan came down the stairs just then, a panther on the prowl. Much to Francesca’s surprise, he came to stand close to her without a word, crossing his arms like he was gearing up to protect her. Interesting. Maybe this bodyguard thing will work.

  She didn’t hear a word they said to one another. In fact, she forced herself to ignore the whole thing, turning her face away. Feeling like a ball of lead was forming in her belly, Francesca set her coffee down on the counter. Suddenly, she didn’t want it.

  Logan turned to face her, his pretty, deep-set eyes catching hers. There was some emotion twisting up his mouth that she couldn’t quit
e read, but he looked unhappy. “Is this what you want, Francesca?” he asked, sending shivers down to her toes.

  “What a question! No one ever cares what I want.” Her heart squeezed a little in her chest. Unable to form an answer, she kept her mouth shut and shrugged instead. She turned away her face again, forcing herself to block out both of their voices as they continued to speak.

  Chapter Seven

  Logan

  Feeling a little silly, Logan adjusted the collar of his tailored suit with unhappy fingers. He looked in the mirror again for the millionth time, making sure the suit covered up his most recognizable tattoos. Though he wasn’t sure his own mother would be able to recognize him after Francesca and her mother got through with him. They dyed his hair from dark brown to black and buzzed it down to almost nothing on the sides. The top they left about an inch long, making his head feel incredibly naked. Then they got him a few minutes in a tanning booth (which was a few too many minutes for him) and got him brand new clothing that was cut so close to his body that he had to wiggle to get into them.