Montgomery Billionaire Series

by Michelle Love

  ‘Now, Skandar, in light of what you’ve just said…we can’t not talk about the photographs seen on the more salacious gossip sites.’

  Skandar drew in a deep breath. ‘No, I don’t suppose we can gloss over it,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘Diane, I’m used to the public eye, the intrusion, the loss of privacy. It comes with the territory. This, however, was such an intrusive, despicable, heartless invasion of privacy that I don’t even have the words for how angry I am. It is inexplicable to me why this happened – what has anyone gained from it? The woman in those photos, Hayley Applebee, the girl I love, deserves to be treated with respect and love. She is a brilliant, smart, funny, beautiful student who is worth ten billion of any of the scum looking at, commentating on or publishing these photos. We were engaged in a private act of love. If the person who broke into my home – and, I have to add,’ – and he looked straight into the camera, ‘the home of my brother and installed these cameras is watching, just know this. We will stop at nothing to find you, and you will be brought to justice.'

  His whole body was trembling. Diane looked at him with renewed respect. Kit, sensing a moment, threw his arm around his nephew. ‘And as his uncle, I have to speak up and say here, that privacy is the watchword of our family, and we will vigorously defend it.'

  Diane blinked, then her professional smile returned. ‘Quite. That was an impassioned speech, Skandar; you must be serious about your lovely new girlfriend.'

  ‘I am. Very serious. This is it for me.’

  Even Diane was taken aback by his words for a second. ‘You do seem very happy.’

  ‘It would be impossible not to be with Hayley.’

  Kit could swear that Diane almost swooned at that. Jesus, kid, laying on much?

  Finally to Skandar’s relief, Diane turned to Kit. ‘And how about you, Kit? I know you’re still reeling from your divorce from the gorgeous Asia Flynn – you saw the photos of her at the Met Gala with Sebastian Winter, I presume?’

  Kit's face went red, but he gave her a strained smile. ‘We remain on good terms. I’m glad she’s finally moving on.’

  Skandar shot his uncle a hard look. Low blow, Unc, he thought, feeling sorry for Asia. Diane looked equally unimpressed by the childish slight.

  ‘And what about you, Kit, have you moved on? Apart from the dalliance we all know about, of course, with Lulu Florentine? Have you and she reconnected since your divorce?’

  Ouch. Kit, his eyes wary, shook his head. ‘No, we’re still friends, but no, we’re not together. To be honest, Diane, I’m at a time in my life where I just want to be alone, really work on myself, find out who I am when I’m not “Kit Mallory, superstar”.’

  Skandar gazed in horrified wonder as his uncle made air quotes around his name. Skandar met Diane's eyes and the corner of her mouth hitched up. Skandar thought he might lose it.

  ‘Well, that's all the time we have.' Diane was clearly dying to get away from Kit and howl with laughter. ‘Thanks so much for talking to me, it’s been fascinating.’

  ‘Thank you, Diane.’

  ‘We're out.' The floor manager called, and Diane shook their hands – giving a wink to Skandar and a slight nod to Kit. Good luck with that. Skandar decided he liked Diane very much indeed.

  ‘Talk about hogging the limelight, jeez, Skan, let a guy get a word in.’ Driving them away from the studio and to the airport for Skandar to get a flight back to Seattle, Kit’s perfectly styled hair whipped around him as they sped along the freeway in his convertible.

  Skandar grinned to himself. ‘This was your idea, Kit. I was answering the lady’s questions.’

  ‘And declaring endless love. I'm surprised she didn't throw her panties at you, like every other woman in America will wanto now.'

  Skandar shrugged. ‘I thought it went well. Asia will probably want a word, though.'

  Kit didn’t reply. Skandar studied his uncle’s profile. How was that he was so entirely different from Skandar’s dad, his twin brother? Where Joel was humble and low-key, Kit was vain and extrovert. He wondered if he had always been like that or his chosen career had made him like that. Skandar thought back to some of the times he himself had been arrogant or careless with others. He knew one thing: Kit had loved Asia, really loved her but he couldn't control his baser instincts or eschew the stereotypical life of a global film star. Lulu Florentine (seriously, that was her real name?) wasn’t the first.

  When they got to the airport, Kit surprised him. ‘You know, you should marry that girl. Don’t let her go if she means that much to you.’

  Skandar smiled. ‘I won’t. Thanks.’

  Kit nodded once then turned to leave him. He stopped. ‘Skan…if you see Asia, tell her…tell her hi from me. Hope she’s good. Sorry about the…you know.’

  Skandar could see the sadness in his eyes. ‘You could call her yourself, you know.’

  Kit laughed softly. ‘If I were her, I wouldn’t take my call. See you when I get back from London.’

  Two days later, after a long transatlantic flight, he was finally being driven to the video set. Kit stared out of the window at the sunny streets of London, packed with workers, tourists and shoppers. Living in L.A., he wasn't used to seeing people walking around the streets, and he found it fascinating to watch the interactions of different people – the exasperated stressed faces of the city workers, pushing through slow crowds of tourists, the determination of the shoppers.

  At the studio, he was greeted with brisk efficiency by a p.a., Sindy, who had long legs and a great rack. He smirked to himself – shouldn't be too hard to find some after-hours company. Sindy led him into make-up and introduced him a huge man, who waved his make-up brushes at Kit.

  ‘Wotcha,' he said in a broad London accent, straight out of a Guy Ritchie movie, and steered Kit into a chair. ‘Nice to meet ya. Right, what are we doing? Full glamor puss?' His dark black eyes twinkled and his smile beamed through the thickest beard Kit had ever seen.

  Kit blinked. ‘Um…’

  Sindy punched the giant playfully. ‘Terry, don’t tease. Mr. Mallory, we'll call when Bo is ready, okay? Can I get you anything?’ She pronounced it ‘anyfink’.

  Kit cleared his throat. ‘Tea perhaps?' He was suddenly aware he was speaking very, very correctly – in a faux English accent. Damn it. ‘Tea would be great, thanks,' he said, relaxing and speaking in his regular American accent. ‘What time do we start?'

  Sindy beamed. ‘When Bo arrives. I’ll be back with your tea.’

  Kit had to admit twenty minutes later that Terry, while he looked like a Sasquatch, had a supremely light touch with makeup. Kit now looked awake, fresh-faced without looking at all…cakey. Dewey fresh even. He nodded at Terry in the mirror.

  ‘Dude, if Hollywood isn’t already banging the door down, they should be.’

  ‘Cheers mate,’ Terry gave him a thumbs up.

  ‘Seriously, it takes a lot of skill to make me look good.’ Kit could afford to be generous in this mood.

  ‘Cool. Look, I have to get ready for Bo so…'

  ‘She’s not here yet?’

  ‘Dunno mate. Bo is Bo. Wardrobe should be coming for you soon. See ya.’

  Kit waited for anyone else to come and see him but after ten minutes, he decided to go out and see the set-up of the shoot. To him, there were a lot of people hanging around, talking and not much work being done. Well, maybe things worked differently here in the UK. Wardrobe came to find him and after that, he grabbed his iPad and answered some emails. He checked the gossip sites to see the reaction to his and Skandar’s interview, which had aired in the US the previous evening – and wished he hadn’t.

  They loved Skandar and his emotional declaration of love for his girlfriend. There were pictures of Skandar and Hayley walking in the park, gazing at each other – obviously, pre-set up by his publicist Zoe – who Kit immediately considered poaching. She was clearly a genius.

  Kit, however, did not come over well. Passive-aggressive much, Kit? Star disses ex-wife
in a tell-all interview. Sour Grapes of Wrath! Mallory seethes as Winter sets his sights on the beautiful ex-wife. Pictures of Sebastian Winter kissing Asia. Fucker. His mood plummeted as he looked at Asia, so gorgeous, her warm, easy smile lighting up the red carpet. Time was she lit up his red carpet.

  He switched off his iPad and went to find Sindy. She was chatting to the lighting guys. Kit drew her aside. ‘Look, anyone have any idea when Bo will be here?’

  She looked blank. ‘Dunno. She doesn’t have a manager, so she sets her own times. She’ll ‘ere, don’t worry.’

  ‘I’m not worried,’ he hissed and turned away from her. Fuck, why did I agree to this? He stalked off and sat in the chair with Bo’s name on it. A minion approached him but he scared him off with a stare. How long was he supposed to wait for this woman?

  An hour and a half later, just when he was seriously considering ditching the whole thing, there was a commotion. Laughter, raucous cackling and cursing and there she was. For a second, all Kit could see was fake fur coats and fingernails then finally she reached him. He stood up, fury racing through his veins.

  ‘Where the fuck have you been?’

  Everything went silent. Bo looked at him, expression blank but with her eyes challenging him to shout at her again and see where it got him. She was gorgeous, Kit reluctantly admitted. All breakneck curves, soft pillowy breasts with a cleavage you could lose yourself in, and the face of an angel.

  ‘’xcuse me?’

  ‘You were supposed to be here two hours ago! Do you think I have the fucking time to waste waiting around for some torch singer?’

  Silence again. He seethed, refusing to back down. Not looking away from him, Bo called to the rest of the room. ‘Who got the time?’

  ‘One minute twenty,' said a voice from somewhere in the back. Bo smiled.

  ‘Fucking brilliant. I win!’ She turned and raised her arms to the room, and they all cheered. Kit had no idea what was going on and it showed in his face. Bo turned back to him smiling. ‘I bet these fuckers that I could get you to lose it in less than two minutes. You’ve just won me a hundred bloody quid!’

  Again with the cheering. Kit drew in a breath, trying to calm himself. Losing it now – again – would not help anything.

  ‘Look, can we just start?’

  Bo waved him away nonchalantly. ‘You take your shirt off and look pretty; I'll just be a minute in make-up then we can get down to it.'

  Hell, why, why, why did his cock just jump to attention when she said that? This bitch was insane, a pain in the ass, slovenly, over-the-top, spoke like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins…Fuck. He gave a stiff nod. ‘Fine.’

  She was true to her word this time and when she emerged, in a stunning red dress which clung to every curve and lit up her face, her honey blonde hair falling in soft waves to her shoulders, it didn’t do his erection any good. And of course, as soon as they got into their first clinch as the music played back, she would sing along with the backing track and her voice was so smoky, so divine that, despite himself, he lost himself in the role. Bo was utterly professional – and a great actress he was surprised to find – and their chemistry was undeniable.

  At the end of filming, there was a scene where his character, dejected and abandoned by his love, sits alone in their bedroom (all artfully shabby chic, of course) only to look up and find her waiting in the doorway for him. Kit played the part perfectly, glancing up as Bo waited. He stood and walked to her and took her in his arms.

  The moment their lips met, it was as if lava covered their bodies and they kissed passionately, for real. She tasted so good, so sweet and God, the scent of her skin was driving him mad. He pulled her closer, not hearing the director shouting cut. Bo, her lips curving up in a smile, made no effort to pull away. Unseen by anyone else, she slipped her hand down to his pants and cupped his cock, squeezing the hot length of it through the fabric. A small growl escaped Kit and he fisted her hair in his hand and ground his mouth down on hers.

  ‘Guys….guys? Yeah, that's a wrap.' The director coughed awkwardly.

  Kit released her and Bo stepped back, grinning. ‘Get what you needed?' she said calmly to the red-faced director who nodded. ‘Good.' She looked back at Kit then very deliberately looked down to his groin and smiled. ‘Thanks for coming, You were great...impressive.'

  She turned and walked off the set, shouting her thanks to everyone, who applauded her as she left.

  Holy fucking shit. Kit couldn’t believe what had just happened – and now she was just leaving? The hell? He obviously couldn’t go after her – what, was he supposed to chase her? Him, Kit freaking Mallory? Hell no.

  Instead, he plastered on his best smile and thanked each and every member of the crew before leaving. He toyed with the idea of taking the p.a. back to his hotel – she looked at him eagerly when he'd shaken her hand, but he found he didn't want to – despite the necessity of getting rid of the worst aching boner he'd ever had. Damn you, Bo Kennedy, ballbreaker and prick tease.

  It was only back at his hotel that he felt bad. Why are you such a douchebag all the time? He said to himself as he looked into the bathroom mirror. You never used to be like this. The truth was, ever since he lost Asia, he’d been lost. He’d covered up his devastation and guilt by becoming this unbearable untouchable pig. Bo Kennedy was neither a ballbreaker or a tease. She was a goddess who had now bested him three times.

  And, God, he’d absolutely love it if she did it again…

  Bo Kennedy was at that moment, back in her massive home in the north of the City. Face and body scrubbed clean in the shower, she went back downstairs and grinned at the woman sitting on the floor with an angelic blonde haired toddler playing with some trains. Bo sat down with them.

  ‘Thanks, mum,' Bo kissed her mother's cheek and then tickled the little boy's feet. ‘'Ello you, got a kiss for Mummy?'

  The boy, Tiger, threw himself into her arms, and she rolled back, cuddling him and blowing raspberries on his cheek until he screamed with laughter.

  ‘He did drawing at school today,' her mom, Daphne, said proudly, ‘and he won a prize. Show Mummy what you won.’

  Boo made an excited face. ‘Oo what did you win? Show Mummy, go on.’

  Tiger skipped merrily up to his room to find his prize. Bo sat back against the couch and sighed. ‘He’s been okay, Mum? Have you?’

  ‘We’ve been just fine, darlin’. You look exhausted. How was the movie star?’

  Bo grinned. ‘Movie-starry. Big-headed, bit of a wanker, but very, very shaggable.’

  Daphne went red but giggled. ‘Bo, you are naughty.’

  Bo ran a hand through her hair, scooping it up into a pony-tail and fixing it with the band she had around her wrist. ‘Mum, I wish I was naughty. Do you know how long it’s been?’

  Daphne made a sad face and Bo laughed. ‘You’re no help.’

  Daphne got up and started to tidy the boy’s toys. ‘Bo, I’ll tell you what I told your aunt. She kept on at me after your dad left to find someone else. I told her, I’ve me own money, I’ve me own ‘ouse and I have full access to the Ann Summers website. Who needs a man?’

  Bo screeched with laughter, rolling on the floor. ‘You never said that to Auntie Rose?’

  ‘I did too. And I’m saying it to you – you’ve made your success, my girl, and you’ve got that little angel upstairs.’

  Bo waved her hands. ‘I know, Mum. Just sometimes, you know?’

  ‘I know. That’s why I’ve got a dog.’

  ‘Eww, Mum!’

  ‘To cuddle, you idiot,' her mom grinned wickedly. ‘Look, if you're okay, I'd like to get home.'

  Bo checked her watch. ‘Oh right…what is it tonight?’

  ‘Supernatural,’ her mum said excitedly, ‘Carry on my wayward son…especially if it’s Dean Winchester.’

  ‘Dirty. Old. Woman.’ Bo said but laughed. ‘I hope that vibrator runs on batteries, I don’t want the National Grid going out on me.’

  ‘Cheeky cow,’ Daphne
kissed her daughter. ‘Bye Tiggy-Tiger,’ she called as Tiger came back in the room, dragging a massive bag of candy with him.

  After her mother had left, Bo sat with Tiger, trying to persuade him not to eat the whole bag of candy at once – she checked the sugar count and wondered why someone at school would think it was a good idea to give sugar as a gift. Maybe it was a rogue teacher hell-bent on revenge on the parents who sent the kids to school all hopped up on sugary cereal.

  Later, when Tiger was asleep, she lay in her bed and allowed herself to think about Kit Mallory. Yeah, the guy was a dickhead but…jesus…when he kissed her, she’d felt it right between her legs. Never shy, she’d decided on impulse to check out his goods…and he wasn’t lacking. At all. Good thing the director had come up to them – if Mallory had fucked her right there, right there, she wouldn't have been complaining.

  She flicked her phone round and round in her hand. She knew where he was staying in London…she could call him….no. Don’t do it. You left him wanting more. Don’t offer it on a plate.

  ‘Just don’t too fucking long, Kit Mallory,’ she groaned into her pillow. Sighing she sat up and flicked the t.v. on. Then on a whim, switched to Netflix…search Kit Mallory films…

  There was one, about twenty years old, right at the start of his career. Bo put it on and settled back to watch it. After half an hour of watching his blonde haired perfection, she nodded to herself.

  ‘Yeah, Kit Mallory…don’t you take too long…'

  In Seattle, Randall was having dinner with his eldest and youngest sons. Jakob and Grady – Gray to his family - had always gotten along best of all his sons and he delighted in their company.

  ‘I haven’t met Quilla yet,’ Grady said to Jakob, ‘I’ve heard she rivals Helen of Troy.’ Grady’s amused grin made Jakob grin.

  ‘You heard correct. She’s with her friend Marley. Marley’s been away on a research trip, so they want to catch up.’