Sleeping With The Billionaire - A Standalone Royal Alpha Billionaire Prince Romance (New York City Billionaires - Book #2)

by Alexa Davis

  “Kristy’s lucky that the person whose life she was ruining was Libby,” Cynthia mused quietly as she cruised the parking lot, looking for an open space. I shot her a glance and she held up a hand. “I’m not saying anyone should try to ruin Libby’s life, I’m just saying, a lot of people out there wouldn’t be sitting at the bedside of the person who has caused them so much worry and pain.”

  “You’ve met Libby. Were you even surprised that this is where we ended up tonight?” She chuckled and shook her head.

  “You have a pretty amazing woman, there. I wish I could meet a girl like that.” I laughed, and flicked her in the shoulder with my fingers.

  “You just leave my woman alone. I bought you ribs.” She laughed and I felt the tension in the car dissipate with an almost audible pop. Libby still had a long road ahead of her, and I didn’t want to get in her way. But I was going to be there, just as I promised. No matter how long it took to earn her trust. Libby was my future. Olivia was as much a part of my heart as if I had brought her into being myself. Carl Jameson had hurt my family—and he’d done it on purpose, for profit. One way or another, he was going to pay for putting us all in the position we were in. I had so many ideas for how to make him suffer, it occurred to me I might need to hire Cynthia right away, to keep track of those ideas and to execute them, one at a time.

  Once upon a time we’d been colleagues, never friends. But this was the last time he was going to come after anyone I considered family. I texted my brothers and informed them of my intentions, and my phone blew up with responses. I pocketed the phone and set my focus on the immediate need inside the building in front of me. One way or another, I’d find a way for Libby to relax and enjoy the moment. I’d just have to create one later she could enjoy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Libby

  Kristy still looked tiny in the hospital bed, but without the tubes running to her nose and down her throat, she looked a hundred times better than she had two days before. She cried when Tucker had explained to her that court had been put off until she was okay, even though she wasn’t required to be there. The police had come and gone, and I had explained at great length that I also had been held hostage emotionally by the people that had driven Kristy to try to take her life.

  When the uniforms left, Kristy looked years younger than she had in the courtroom. It was still amazing to me how much like my nineteen-year-old self Kristy looked. It was uncanny, and made me question my life and marriage all over again. She was physically almost completely well, but every time the doctor spoke of discharge to a psychiatric hospital, her vitals would go haywire, especially her blood pressure. Her insurance was refusing to pay for another night in a regular hospital, and I asked Tucker to speak to her surgeon to extend it one more night, just until her blood pressure was no longer at a life-threatening level.

  I washed her face, applied a little makeup, and brushed and styled her long hair. The nurses had said she’d be allowed out of bed to shower by late afternoon, but I did what I could to improve her mood before I had to go get Olivia.

  “Do you want Olivia and me to come back later? We could sneak in something good to eat, like a Philly cheese steak from Moochies.” I wheedled, as we watched General Hospital on the grainy television in her room.

  “I don’t know. I mean, what if she hates me? I married her dad, you guys had to move out of your house… I just can’t.”

  “Sweetie, I was divorced when you met Andrew, so we had already moved, and she’s four. She couldn’t care less about your relationship with her father, except that it’s something you have in common, which in her toddler brain, means you’re already friends.” I held her hand and forced her to pay attention to me, instead of the soap on the TV. “Let me do this. I think it will help you, and it can’t hurt us.” Kristy’s face crumpled and she began to weep quietly, still holding my hand

  “Why are you doing this for me?” I handed her a tissue and chuckled.

  “Because my life would’ve been so much better if someone had been there for me when my sanity was on the line. If it hadn’t been for how much I loved Olivia, and how much she needed me, I’d probably have done the same thing. Just because he had an education and money, doesn’t mean he was a good man. I’m still coming to terms with the damage he did to me. I expect no less for you.”

  “Okay, since I’d rather her see me here, than the insane asylum.” Kristy looked close to tears.

  “Oh, sweet girl, is that what you think of your next days?” I sighed and stood at her side, stroking her hair. “Three days spent in the care of people who know how to make you stronger is not the end of the world.”

  “What will people think?”

  “Why would you tell them?” I turned off the television and sat on the end of her bed. “Kristy, you don’t know me at all, but I get the impression from your lack of visitors not associated with me that I’m what you’ve got right now.” She looked down at her hands on the faded blue hospital coverlet and scowled. “We’re not friends. But I’m the closest thing to family you’ve got right now, aren’t I?” Kristy nodded, still refusing to look at me.

  I seethed. Andrew knew exactly what he was doing when he had brought each of us home. Girls with no parents or siblings to ask questions, eager to give their love and loyalty to someone they looked up to. Very young women, ripe for someone to dominate them. As though I had summoned her with her with our conversation, the staff counselor tapped on the open door and poked her head in, asking to speak with Kristy. I left them alone, grateful for the chance to grab a surprisingly good coffee from the stand downstairs.

  I sat in the lounge longer than I needed to, basking in the soft light that filtered in through the stained mural in the panes of glass over the doors, depicting Tejano cowboys herding cattle over the plains. It was a quiet time of day, and while people flowed in and out of the building going about their business, the lack of conversations added to the stillness I felt while waiting to return to Kristy to say my goodbyes. One way or another, I wouldn’t be visiting her in the hospital again—though I did hope it was because she continued to get help.

  There was a surreal feeling to everything that had happened, all leading to a plain white armchair in the hospital lounge, Tucker and his new best friend, Cynthia, working their collective butts off fighting for Olivia to get back her inheritance, and me trying to make friends with one of the few people in the world that might truly hate me. I rubbed my temples, in an (apparently failed) attempt to massage out the headache that had already started pushing through the medicine and caffeine I’d already taken to banish it.

  A shadow fell across my face and I opened my eyes to Tucker standing over me. He arched an eyebrow and handed me a gigantic chocolate muffin on a plate. As I pushed the flimsy plastic fork through the muffin, he sat in the chair next to mine and watched me with a smile.

  “Am I supposed to share this with you?” I asked, with a mouthful of muffin. He laughed softly and shook his head.

  “I already ate. But I saw you sitting there, looking… well, a little forlorn, and I thought chocolate might help.”

  “You were correct. I don’t think I got through to her, Tucker. She thinks that because she was only with those people for a few months, that everything that happened, every choice she made, is because she’s a bad person, instead of admitting she’s ill, and needs help.” He rubbed his jaw.

  “Don’t get mad.”

  “I’m not mad, I’m just frustrated. If I had been in the position to get help…”

  “Yeah, that’s what I want to talk to you about, and I would prefer that you listen without getting angry with me.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound like a conversation I really want to have, but, go ahead, you are my council, right?”

  “I think you’re too close to this. She isn’t you, Libby. She should live her life her way, even if it’s going to lead her to pain. You can’t make those choices for her.”

  “Wow. You really don’t see
the hypocrisy there, do you?”

  “Hey, I’ve told you what I think will help you, and what I’d love to do to help you. I’ve lost sleep over you and your unhappiness. But I know you. I care about you. I—I love you and O, and I say and do what I do out of love.” He leaned in and stared into my eyes. “She isn’t your friend, or family. What do you owe her, that you’re putting yourself through this?”

  “I just keep seeing the mistakes I made, the amount of pain I could’ve avoided, and the things I did avoid,” I told him, gesturing around me. “I wanted her to take what’s being offered to her, to make her ‘right’ again.” He touched my cheek, and his finger left a trail of electricity that shot through me, heating my belly, and making me grateful I was already sitting and my knees couldn’t give out on me.

  The muffin was dust in my mouth when I tried to eat it, and I set it aside and tried to wash it down with the lukewarm remains of my latte, choking on the tepid coffee. When I was finally able to breathe normally again, Tucker had vanished. The coffee and what was left of the muffin went into the trash bin, and I started for the coffee cart again, only to see that was exactly where my tall, handsome hero had gone.

  He handed me a fresh, hot cup of heaven and stood to one side of the cart with me while the nice young barista made his. Tucker didn’t press me on my over-involvement with Kristy, and I didn’t bother to tell him he was right. It didn’t matter. Kristy was now my problem, whatever he said. Because he was right—she wasn’t family, or a friend. However, she was something more, or something worse. She was me; but for the grace of God. I could’ve been the one in that bed, so many times. Tucker couldn’t understand how much it meant to me to see her better than I had been.

  “She’s only twenty-three, Tucker.” He accepted his coffee and stood with me under an arch, facing the colorful window mural. “I just want to see her have a chance at happiness before she’s too old and realizes how much of her life she’s wasted.”

  “I know. I don’t fault you for wanting to help. I’m not saying your advice is wrong. But there comes a point where you should let go, for your own well-being.”

  “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you’d stayed on the ranch, or even just kept at being a cattleman, on your own? Andrew said you were amazing with a rope, like something in a rodeo or a movie.”

  “I was all right, I guess. No better than my father, or my brothers. It was what we did, and sometimes, it was even fun. But I loved school so much, and I always wanted something more.”

  “More what?” I scoffed, “More frustrating, time-sucking, nerve-wracking, and thankless?” he laughed so hard he spit coffee onto his chin. I handed him a napkin from my pocket.

  “Thanks,” he laughed, wiping his chin. “You are right about how difficult this life is. But I still wouldn’t change a thing about what I do.” He tossed the crumpled tissue in the bin and looked at me, his eyes dark with a look so possessive and masculine, it made me flush. “I’d never have been there to help you if I was still a cowpoke.” I nodded and glanced at my watch.

  “I need to go get Olivia and bring her back around before Kristy goes, well… wherever she decides to go. Want to come up and say ‘goodbye’ with me?” I paused. “Unless you were here to see her.” He held up his briefcase and nodded.

  “Here to get some information and a signature or two on your behalf from her, and really happy that I saw you first.” My blush deepened and I walked toward the elevator, trying to hide it. There wasn’t much more I could say to Kristy except “goodbye” and “thank you,” but I felt like I needed to find a way to get through to her. The woman had stood up in a courtroom and made a statement that had to have been humiliating for her, instead of simply firing her lawyer in private. Then she’d attempted to end her life because of her part in an argument over money. It was more than a will and some pictures that had put her in the hospital. She needed real help.

  Tucker may not have thought we needed to be involved with her, but for better or worse, I was. I wasn’t going to abandon her without knowing there was someone to take up the torch and carry on until she was stronger. Like it or not, she was my problem, and I wasn’t going to walk away until it was solved.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tucker

  I wasn’t nearly as surprised when Kristy accepted the offer of a psychological evaluation as Libby was. I’d seen, firsthand, just how persuasive she could be, and as fragile as Kristy was, there was still a spark in her eyes that spoke of a resilience I was familiar with, in Libby, in my own family. Maybe it was a Texas thing. It was possible to imagine, looking up at the Mexican cowboys who forever herded cattle above the door to the hospital, that everyone who loved the land as much as we did, simply inherited the ability to pick ourselves up in the face of struggle, and soldier on.

  Libby was practically dancing when I walked her to her car. She was headed back to the preschool to get Olivia, who had been attending both the morning and afternoon classes as a favor to Libby.

  “Time to go to the park, and take Olivia for a grown-up lunch like she’s been begging me for, and maybe spend some time figuring out how to be successful.” She giggled, leaning with one hip against her car door. “No matter what the judge decides, and believe me, I think the legal thing is to split the finances three ways and sell the damn house to do it; I’m just glad that there is an actual, honest-to-God, really-for-real, light at the end of this tunnel.”

  “I hope things work out the way we want them to. I know that you’re sincere, but even strategically, asking the judge only for what is fair under the law is a smart move.” She nodded and grimaced.

  “There is nothing anyone could offer me that could tempt me to have to look at the world the way you do.” I snorted.

  “We aren’t like the jokes, you know,” he said. After a pause, he continued. “Well, most of us aren’t. I guess Carl didn’t get the memo that you didn’t have to be sewer slime to argue the law.”

  “Putting it mildly, but yes,” she scoffed, slamming her mouth shut and widening her eyes when I stepped in to her and slid my hand to her waist.

  “Right. Some of us just want to find a nice girl, settle down, and have lots and lots of hot sex.” She gasped and managed a shaky laugh.

  “Is that all you want, then?” I shrugged and pressed myself against her.

  “Wouldn’t hurt. I mean, what could go wrong?”

  “Heartbreak, loneliness, quarts upon quarts of Ben and Jerry’s. I have been down this road before, and it is ugly.” I ran my hand up her arm, delighting in her shiver and the way her breath caught when I touched her.

  “It could be worse if we never tried.” I leaned in and kissed her softly on the forehead. “I’ll catch up with you later. Tell the kid ‘hi’ for me.” I kissed her again and forced myself to walk away without deepening it. Sitting in my car, I could still smell her faintly, and that faint sweet scent of flowers was enough to make my chest tight and my mouth dry.

  I called in to the firm and asked Cynthia to get with the secretaries and figure out a time for a meeting, and to cater it. She agreed that promising them a decent lunch away from their desks and clients was probably the only way to get all those old suits together, and I needed wisdom.

  Lawyers, like any profession, had a code of honor. You couldn’t just end someone’s career with charges of unethical practice without there being fallout, and hate Carl Jameson though I did, I wasn’t looking forward to the pushback from Cripke, Cripke, and Stokes. To them, I was going to be seen and portrayed as just a disgruntled former employee. And they were right; I was pissed as hell that I’d worked so hard to help build that place up, but they’d chosen to be loyal to a disease like Carl and hang me out to dry. Libby, too—but I really did try to leave her out of the almost blinding rage that consumed me.

  Yes, I needed to take steps based on what the senior partners would think before I waded into a fight I might not even be able to win with guns blazing, accusing a man who’d been in the c
ourtroom since before I was legal to drink of criminal activity. Unethical, yes, and definitely on the dark side of grey ever since I’d known him. But coercion wasn’t a grey area. My stomach dropped and I felt the sour acid of bile on the back of my tongue.

  I parked and tried to go up to my office, but my feet refused to move in the direction of the stairs, so I walked back down the ramp and out into the bright sunshine. It was easier to think under the shade of the trees I usually had my back to when I was in the office, but harder to think about what I needed to. My best friend had messed up the lives of two women, at least one of which was a good person, and the fact that he had messed her up was really causing problems in my life: lack of sleep, loss of appetite, frequent brain spasms of forgetfulness and distraction. Life, with her having one foot wedged in the door for a quick escape, was almost unlivable.

  I made my way around the park twice more before anyone came down from the office, and when he did, I was surprised to suddenly have the white-haired gentleman I hadn’t seen outside of meetings since I began with the firm.

  “Mr. Poparos, what brings you to the park today?” He huffed rudely and kept walking, his hands clasped behind his back as he matched my easy pace. I stayed quiet, and tried to figure out a way to break away from him without being offensive to the most senior member of our branch of the firm. Finally, he pointed to a park bench, and I sat without hesitation. I started to make a joke about us being proof lawyers weren’t vampires, but he cut me off with a glare and my mouth shut with a snap. I sighed and looked around, unsure of what to do next.

  “I hear you’re having trouble with your old firm,” he finally said, his voice full of gravel from age and a fifty-year smoking habit he’d only given up a few months ago, under threat from his wife.

  “Yessir. I have a pressing moral and legal obligation I need to discuss with the senior partners at Snell and Wilmer, regarding coercion, falsifying financial documents, and threats against a client, sir.”