Montgomery Billionaire Series

by Michelle Love

  “Ms. Whitlow. Good morning.”

  I swallowed, and smiled. “Good morning, Dr. Elliot. Sorry about the bagel. Spoiled milk.”

  He frowned sternly. “I have no idea what that means. Please have a seat. I assume that, by your excited email, you have something to show me?”

  As I reached for the papers in my bag, the strap slid down my shoulder. When I tried to grab it, I spilled my coffee all over me, and I inhaled sharply. “Shit.” Snapping my mouth shut, I immediately colored. It wasn’t exactly appropriate to cuss in front of my advisor. “I am so sorry.”

  “That’s all right. You’re having a trying month. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and clean yourself off while I review the paper?”

  Luckily, my paper wasn’t soaking in coffee. “Thank you Dr. Elliot. I’ll be back in just a minute.” Leaving my bag, I hurried down the hall towards the bathroom. The professor had been so patient with me, and here I was acting like a bumbling idiot in his office.

  At least he was forgiving.

  Throwing some paper towels under the running water of the sink, I started trying to dab at the stain on my red top. Since the shirt slung off my shoulders, most of the coffee hit my chest, and luckily, it wasn’t scalding hot.

  How did he know that I’d had a trying month?

  I froze and stared at my reflection. For a second, I was aware of every sound in the bathroom. The flushing toiled from the men’s room on the other side of the wall. The footsteps of people hurrying by the door. My own heart pounding in my chest.

  “He’s just talking about your paper,” I scolded myself. What the hell was wrong with me? I was either shoving the threat on my life from my mind, or I was suspecting everyone who walked past me. There seemed to be no reasonable in-between.

  Angrily throwing my paper towels in the trashcan, I threw open the bathroom door and glanced down the empty hallway. “This is all his fault,” I said to the stealthy men that I knew had to be somewhere close. “If it wasn’t for him, I could actually focus on my school work. I wouldn’t be suspecting people who are close to me. I wouldn’t be weeks behind on my thesis.”

  A large man stepped around the corner and leaned against the wall. He regarded me coolly, and there was only one word that came to mind when I saw him. Danger. “You have reason to suspect your professor?” he asked in a low voice.

  “No,” I snapped. “I have no reason to suspect anyone. I just wish that whoever it was would make their move already so I could go back to my normal life. I’m a graduate student. I don’t lust over ridiculously wealthy playboys. I don’t get kidnapped by weirdos, and I sure as hell don’t have people like you following me around!”

  Rather than respond to my crazy rant, he simply stepped back and disappeared around the corner again. Alone, I closed my eyes.

  Tell me what you like, Sloan. I’ll take you anyway you want tonight. I’ll fuck you senseless right across this table. No one will bother us.

  Lucas’s promise never seemed to leave me. Even angry, paranoid, and alone, my body still responded to the memory of his touch. His breath hot in my ears. His eyes staring into mine.

  “I’m not this woman,” I whispered to the empty air, but there was no one to convince but myself.

  Chapter 10

  Sloan

  By the time my day ended, I was in desperate need of a drink. Dragging myself from the car, I rubbed my temples and waved half-heartedly to a couple out walking their dog.

  There was a large box in front of my door. Frowning, I checked the mailing label. It didn’t have one, but it did have my name scrawled across the front. It wasn’t heavy. I opened the door and pushed it inside with my foot.

  When I got it settled on the kitchen table, I stepped back and stared at it. A box just appears on my door without a mailing label? That sounded like an excellent reason to call the police, but maybe that was because I watched too many crime dramas.

  With a pair of scissors, I slowly sliced through the tape. “Please don’t be a severed head. Please don’t be a severed head,” I chanted as I cautiously pulled the flap back and peered inside.

  Instead of a bloody scene, I found two more boxes. A long narrow box from Lotte’s Florist and a bigger box from Goddard’s Women’s Boutique.

  I opened the florist box first and gasped. Inside were a dozen long-stem red roses with a note. “I would very much appreciate your company to the Harrison-Belle Gala this evening.”

  There was no signature, but I already knew who it was from. I wasn’t big on current events, but I knew of the Harrison-Belle Gala. It was an annual event where the rich mingled and gave away insane amounts of money to a charity of their choice. The Harrison and Belle families both had lost children to cancer, and they’d hosted this event each year. The Children’s Cancer foundation was always the headlining charity, but the gala also invited four other charities to join the event. The only person that I knew who was wealthy enough to even get an invitation to the gala was Lucas Montgomery.

  Was this an apology? My hands tingled in anticipation as I opened the other box. Inside, nestled in tissue papers, was a beautiful green shimmery fabric. I pulled it gently out by the straps and gasped as the gorgeous dress flowed to the floor.

  “So much for saying that I have nothing to wear,” I whispered.

  There were plenty of reasons I should turn down the invitation. I had work to do tonight. I had class in the morning. Any type of press with me on Lucas’s arm would be bad. Simply being near Lucas was bad.

  But he had bought me a beautiful and expensive dress. And roses. How could I say no to that?

  You just want to see him again.

  I pushed the accusation aside and grabbed my phone. “Sloan,” he answered in a low voice. “I take it that you got my invitation?”

  “I think this counts as an expensive gift,” I said with a smile.

  “You seem to have an affinity for jeans and t-shirts. I wasn’t sure if you had anything appropriate to wear.”

  “And the flowers?”

  There was a pause. “I just thought it would be polite,” he said softly.

  That wasn’t the answer that I was looking for. “Why would you want to take me?”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said without answering my question. He hung up before I could say anything, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Was it possible that Lucas Montgomery actually liked me?

  Feeling almost giddy, I put the phone down and held the dress up against me. There were only a couple of hours before seven. It didn’t usually take me long to get ready, but I did absolutely have to get some mock classroom questions written up for my Children’s Lit class.

  Lucas Montgomery was taking me out on a date. Maybe my luck was finally turning around.

  He would find a dress similar to the one that I had worn at Randi’s birthday. It was the same halter style that dipped low over my cleavage and scooped all the way down my back. It fell to my ankles with a long slit up the side.

  I don’t know how he’d done it, but it fit every single one of my curves just perfectly.

  By the time I’d finished pinning my curls up and applying a little bit of make-up, I stared at myself in the mirror. I could have actually passed as pretty. Stepping into the same heels that I’d borrowed from Randi that first night, I completed the look.

  There was a sharp knock at the door, and I took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” I whispered.

  On the other side of the door, Lucas Montgomery looked absolutely immaculate in a black tuxedo. My mouth went dry as I stared at him. With just a little bit of scruff and those intense eyes, he looked like sin wrapped up in a pretty bow.

  “You look nice,” he said stiffly, but as his eyes roamed over me, I felt almost complete naked. Exposed.

  “You look nice as well.” At least my voice didn’t crack this time. Gripping my clutch, I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. Rather than one of his expensive cars, a limousine waited for us out in the
parking lot.

  “I think this was how my prom was supposed to go,” I said without thinking.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The pretty dress and the limousine,” I said hastily. “I’m not trying to cheapen anything, but it’s the only other formal occasion that I have ever experienced.”

  “And how exactly did your prom go?”

  I gritted my teeth. It was eight years ago and shouldn’t still upset me. “It didn’t. My date stood me up,” I muttered. Dustin Wheeler. He’d been one of the best looking guys in the school, and I’d been speechless when he’d asked me out. In high school, I’d been a joke. I was the bookworm with the frizzy hair. All I needed was the dorky glasses to complete the cliché.

  And the handsome football player to humiliate me. That part actually did happen.

  “This isn’t prom, Sloan,” he said as the driver opened the door.

  “Of course not. Forget I even said anything,” I blushed. Slipping into the car, I berated myself. Already I was sounding like a complete idiot. “Tell me what to expect.”

  “At the gala?” He sat close to me and rested his arm on the seat behind my head. There were empty seats along the other side of the limo and spots just behind the driver’s seat and at the back. Plenty of room to spread out, but his thigh pressed against mine. All he had to do was move his hand an inch, and he’d be touching me. Instead, he seemed completely relaxed and oblivious to how my body was heating up. “The intention behind the charity gala was noble, and the Harrison’s and Belle’s both strive to keep it that way, but most of the guests don’t go to support charity. It’s all politics and appearances. But when people are flashing that much money around to impress others, the charities do win out.”

  “You sound like you don’t approve.”

  “I wouldn’t have even gone if it weren’t for my board members. The demand that I make certain appearances each year. Since I’ve turned up solo to all the events in the past few months, I was advised that taking a date would be good for my reputation.”

  His voice was easy and unconcerned, and I felt my heart drop. Of course this had everything to do with his appearance and nothing to do with me. He’d probably known that I’d be so easy to manipulate.

  “I see,” I said coldly. I thought about moving to another seat, but I didn’t want it to be obvious that my feelings were hurt.

  “You’re upset.” He moved his hand and stroked his thumb down the column of my neck. I knew it was to distract me, but I still couldn’t help but warm under his touch.

  “It’s fine. Do you know how long it will last? I have class in the morning.” I leaned down to move away from his fingers, but he simply took advantage and slipped a finger down the length of my spine. I couldn’t even help myself as I gasped. “Damn it,” I muttered. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?” His finger slipped under the fabric of my dress, and I immediately straightened and cleared my throat.

  “Touch me when I’m angry,” I snapped as I wiggled away. Every time he was close to me, I felt all logic fly out the window.

  “Do you want me to stop touching you?”

  No. Yes. Fuck. “I can’t think when you’re touching me,” I said lamely.

  “You’re not supposed to think, Sloan. You’re supposed to feel. I do have an ulterior motive for tonight, and you should be very aware of it.”

  My heart fluttered. “What ulterior motive?” I whispered.

  He leaned down and kissed my bare shoulder. My eyes drifted shut as his hand skimmed under the fabric of the dress to brush along the side of my breast. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

  Just a little more. I was almost ready to beg for it. Just a little more, and he’d finally be touching my aching nipple. “It’s not the kind of dress you wear a bra with.” I turned my face to him and desperately hoped that he would kiss me. My lips burned for him, and although he’d already set my body on fire, he still hadn’t let me taste him.

  He pulled his hand away, and I moaned in frustration. Chuckling, he slid a finger up the slit of my dress. “Is it the type of dress that you wear panties under?”

  No. “That’s for me to know,” I said as I licked my lips. Silently berating myself, I knew that I was playing with fire. We both knew it. Just a couple of days ago I’d told him that I wouldn’t be his toy, and here I was, on the cusp of begging to be used.

  “That’s fine. I have every intention of finding out for myself before the night is over with.”

  “Lucas!”

  “Don’t. When the night is over, if you want me to take you home, I will. No questions asked. But I think you’re going to want to satisfy your curiosity.”

  He continued to caress my bare thigh, and I grew wetter by the second. “Curiosity?”

  “Just how many times do you think I can make you come in one night?” he whispered in my ear. “From my fingers. From my tongue. From my cock.”

  Fuck. I was so ready to find out. I wanted to find out right then and there, but the car pulled to a stop. He immediately straightened and gave me a cocky smile. “We’re here.”

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to collect myself, but no amount of straightening my dress could dampen the desire inside me. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to hold him at arm’s length forever.

  Chapter 11

  Sloan

  Politicians. Celebrities. Business tycoons. My eyes widened as I took everything in. The wait staff moved with silver trays through the crowd carrying champagne, martinis, and wine glasses. Everyone mingled in the middle, and while they were laughing and talking, none of it looked genuine.

  “It’s pretty,” I said lamely. It wasn’t a lie. Someone put a lot of money into decorating the place. The tables lined up along the wall were dressed in white with gold embroidery. Each was decorated with a tall center candle and several smaller candles surrounding it, all in crystal hurricane vases. Lights swooped over the large curtain that hung from ceiling to floor, and right in the middle of the charity booths was a champagne fountain.

  “Pretty?” he said with a cheeky smile. “This is thousands of dollars’ worth of decorations in here, and all you can say is pretty?”

  “To those of us who have never seen thousands of dollars’ worth of decorations, it’s pretty.” I suddenly brightened. “Do you think Chris Pine is here?” I had a huge crush on Chris Pine.

  He rolled his eyes and guided me into the crowd. We could barely take a couple of steps before someone would stop him to talk. All eyes seemed to land on me, but no one asked me for my name.

  Maybe they knew I wasn’t important. His hold on me never wavered, but as the time passed, I realized that I was no more than a decoration on his arm.

  “Montgomery! What is this I hear about you buying real estate in Boston?” one pot-bellied man said as he stretched out his hand.

  I felt Lucas tense before he reached out and shook it. “Jackson. I haven’t bought any property in Boston,” he said with a forced smile. “But I did see the article. I guess someone jumped the gun on that one. I’m fairly focused on the Japan project.”

  “I see,” he said skeptically. His eyes dropped to me, and I decided that enough was enough. “Hi. I’m Sloan Whitlow,” I said as I held out my hand.

  Lucas looked at me sharply, but the man just smiled and took my hand. His lips grazed across my knuckles and lingered a little too long. “Daniel Jackson, at your service. I own the Surf and Sand resorts.”

  “Wow. I’m a graduate student.”

  He roared with laughter and dropped my hand. “A graduate student? That’s rich.”

  Lucas steered me away, and I glanced back, confused. “Why is that funny?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Would you like some champagne? I see someone that I need to speak with, but you’re welcome to help yourself to any of the food and drink. Just don’t leave the hotel. I had your security detail take the night off since you’re with me.”

  My stomach growled, and I realized that I was a l
ittle hungry. “I’ll probably just steal some food and go talk to the people at the charity booths. They look like they’re more my speed anyway.”

  He nodded shortly, but his eyes scanned the crowd. “Pick your favorite one. I’ll donate to that one.”

  “What? I don’t think that’s how it works, Lucas. You’re supposed to donate to the one of your choice. It’s not my money.”

  “They’re all the same to me,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Aghast, I watched him walk away. They were all the same to him? That was cold.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I made my way through the crowd until I stopped at the Animal Rescue Foundation. Snagging some finger sandwiches from the tray, I offered one to the guy behind the booth. “Hungry?”

  A smile broke across his face as he took the sandwich. “Starving. Thank you. Most of the guests here don’t pay much attention to us.”

  “What do you mean? Aren’t you here to talk about the charity?”

  “I am. I have a whole speech planned out, but no one really ever asks. They just hand me their credit cards and sign after I swipe it.”

  I studied him. He was close to my age, and while he was dressed in a suit, he was clearly uncomfortable in it. Finally, someone I could relate to. “Well, I’m Sloan Whitlow. Unfortunately, I have no money to give you, but my date told me that he’d donate to the charity of my choice. So by all means, give me your speech.”

  He laughed and handed me a brochure. “All right. The Animal Rescue Foundation is a hundred-acre sanctuary for domestic and farm animals. We accept any surrenders, no questions asked, and we also rescue animals from euthanasia in kill shelters. Right now we’re fostering seven horses, twelve pigs, several birds, close to a hundred dogs and cats, and a camel. Most of our animals are sick or have been severely abused. We charge a small adoption fee, but most of the animals live their entire lives on the sanctuary. Money for food and medical services comes entirely from donations, and our staff is made entirely of volunteers. We don’t have to pay anyone in the organization a salary which means that a hundred percent of the donations goes to the animals.”