HONEY GIRL: BILLIONAIRE (Book 2)

by Jones, Juliette

  Was I sane? I couldn’t be sure. I looked up at the sky and some big-ass clouds.

  Fuck, I must be fucked up. The sky was swaying back and forth. The clouds were mocking me, laughing down with their faces. Bastards.

  I remembered then, when I focused (with a shitload of effort) on my surroundings.

  I was in a fucking boat.

  Yeah. I remembered: I was in fucking Florida. I had a house here. I had lots of houses for some reason.

  I tried to sit up.

  Couldn’t.

  Tried again.

  Saw a bottle of blessed water somewhere out of reach.

  Fuck, how I wanted that water.

  The effort seemed gargantuan. It was all the way over there.

  But I did it: I crawled over to it.

  Reached it. Grabbed it.

  Chugged it.

  Mother of God, that shit was good.

  I felt a tiny sliver of my humanity returning to me. Which was a bad thing. Her face. I could picture her face. Her hair. Green eyes.

  I managed to lug myself half over the side of the boat before puking my guts out.

  Damn it, the whiskey. Gone to sea. Giving some fish my buzz.

  I just lay there for a while, enjoying the pain of the railing cutting into me.

  I liked pain, I decided. Pure, physical pain that could gouge into some of that other type of pain that was cutting me down. Killing me.

  Survival instincts are a bitch. Something in me gnawed at me to move, to sort my shit out.

  Contemplated the basics. Now had no water and no whiskey. If I was gonna live, I needed both.

  If I was gonna live, I had to figure out where the fuck I was and where the fuck I needed to go.

  My brain argued against it. Wanted to shut down. Sleep. Not think.

  I crawled back into the shade and let the darkness close in.

  Lila

  The taxi dropped me off at the corner.

  I buzzed the intercom.

  No answer.

  I buzzed again.

  A muffled voice. “Yeah?”

  “Jake. It’s me. Lila.”

  “Lila? Thank God, Lila. What took you so long?” The door unlocked and I went into the plush, marble foyer of Jake’s building. Golds and blacks. A huge bouquet of silk flowers arranged in a Greek-style urn. I took the elevator up to the fourth floor.

  His door was open and his silhouette was standing there, shirtless in pyjama pants. With his hair all askew and his chunky metal bracelet with its little red lights.

  I never realized how many tattoos Jake had. Or how buff he was. He gave me a big, warm hug. Jake was a hugger and there was something so comforting about that hug I thought I might start crying all over again, but I held it together. “Jake.”

  He ushered me inside and closed the door. “Have you heard from him?”

  “I – yes. I got a couple of texts. I tried to call him but couldn’t get through.”

  “We can’t find him. He’s not answering his calls.”

  “What do you mean you can’t find him? Isn’t he at home?”

  “No. He never went home. He went to Key West. But he hasn’t been in contact since. And I can’t fucking go down there. I can’t leave my goddamn ‘zone’. I’m about to call the cops, Lila. But I know he wouldn’t want me to. I’m worried he’ll do something crazy. You have to go find him.”

  “What about … Shawna?”

  “Shawna? Are you serious? She’s the last fucking person he’d want to see. I can’t even get in touch with him to tell him there’s no baby.”

  “What?”

  “I got our lawyers to issue a court-ordered pregnancy test, where they lock you in a room and make sure you’re not faking anything. It came back negative. She’s not pregnant, Lila. Never was.”

  “What?”

  “She was lying, Lila.”

  “What? But, how? Why? How could she do that?”

  “She wanted to break you up. She wanted him back.”

  “Oh my god, Jake.”

  “I know. She regrets it, now. She was all apologetic about it, to me. Crying and shit. Alexander doesn’t even know. He won’t answer his fucking phone.”

  I couldn’t get my head around all this. “He never even came back with you?”

  “No. He went straight to JFK. He got me to put Mark in as interim CEO and –”

  “Mark Faber?”

  “Yeah. He was by far the most qualified for the job. I’ve been working with him and we can keep Wolfe Enterprises on track, just. But I’m worried, Lila. Alexander told me not to worry about him, but I am. He’s never done anything like this before. He’s always been the one who helps everyone else. And now I can’t even help him. He needs help, Lila. I can feel it. You have to do it. You will, right? You’ll go down there and find him?”

  Seven hours later, after three transfer flights, I was at the small Key West airport. The air was warm, balmy and tropical through the taxi’s open window. Jake had given me the address and the car dropped me off in front of a small two-story villa. It was beautiful with its palms trees and wrought iron, but much less grandiose than his Manhattan penthouse, his Paris hotel, his Hamptons beach house.

  The door was unlocked. This, in itself, seemed like a bad sign. Alexander was usually careful; he checked locks and thought about the security of his properties and possessions. It wasn’t like him to overlook something like that.

  I called his name, my heart kick-starting into an up-tempo beat. I was going to see him again, any minute. Would he be angry with me? Would he be happy to see me?

  “Alexander?” I called again.

  Nothing.

  I walked into the house, shocked at how I found it. The place was a complete mess. There were bottles everywhere. A few pieces of furniture had been knocked over. The windows and doors were wide open, affording an enchanting view of a courtyard patio that led to a private white-sand beach and a long wooden dock that had a little roofed sitting area at the end of it. More bottles, and empty glasses. Several had been smashed. Even with all the fresh air circulating, the place had the distinct smell of alcohol.

  I walked up the staircase, calling out to him again. No answer. The silence was deafening. I tried calling him again but got the same message about his full voicemail.

  Upstairs, it looked untouched. In one corner of the large bedroom lay his discarded tux.

  Where was he?

  He’d obviously been here, drowning his sorrows like nobody’s business.

  I had no idea what to do, where to go or where to look. I called Jake. “I made it,” I said. “The place is a mess, Jake. He’s been drinking a lot. But he’s not here.”

  “Is the boat there?”

  “No, there’s no boat.”

  “We’ll give him til tomorrow morning to turn up, then I’m calling the police and the Coast Guard. Something might have happened to him.”

  “Oh god, Jake. Where could he be?”

  “He knows his way around a boat, Lila. He’s a competent navigator. He might have just taken some time out. I’m going to call you back in the morning. He’ll kill me if I involve the authorities. He hates any press. But if there’s still no sign of him by then, I think we’ll have no choice.”

  “Okay. I’ll stay here. I’ll wait for him.”

  After Jake hung up, I tried to keep myself as busy as possible. I cleaned the place up, collecting the bottles and putting them into a trash bag. I wiped down the kitchen and mopped the floor.

  Then I went out to the dock and walked to the end of it, sitting at the very end, looking out to sea.

  I miss you. Where are you? Come back to me.

  I sat there and watched the sunset.

  When it was dark and there was still no sign of him, I went back into the house. I went upstairs. I undressed and got into his bed.

  My tears wet his pillows.

  Come back to me.

  Alexander

  Holy hell.

  No.

 
; Ow.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  My head.

  I needed water.

  I needed water.

  I needed water.

  It was getting dark.

  I was no longer drunk and this was a very bad thing. Clarity sliced into my brain along with the merciless knife blades of my colossal hangover. I was severely dehydrated and suffering from a savage case of the DTs.

  I managed to stand up and it was a good thing there was nothing in my stomach or it would’ve come hurling out. As it was, I managed to stumble down the small staircase and into the galley. There must have been some emergency provisions somewhere. There had to be.

  And there, on a shelf in the small kitchen: my salvation. Twelve wrapped bottles of spring water. I ripped the packaging open and started guzzling that warm liquid like the lifeblood that it was, barely coming up for breath until I’d drunk four.

  There was canned food there, too, and a goddamn can opener. Lucky, you fucking beauty.

  Now that I was no longer drunk, I was ravenous. When’s the last time I fucking ate something? I couldn’t remember. I didn’t even look at the labels. I ate a couple cans of what turned out to be fruit salad, then gorged my way through three cans of instant stew, or something. I didn’t bother to heat it, just ate it from the can with a spoon.

  I even found some aspirin.

  And I made up my mind.

  I was going after her. Fuck boundaries. Fuck everything. What had I done that was so bad, anyway? Knocked someone up, yes. Unintentionally. Before I’d met her. What was I supposed to have done, predicted that she would walk into my life? Like a goddamn psychic or something? It wasn’t my fault Shawna sabotaged me. I’d explained to Lila how I felt about her. I’d explained how I felt about both of them and how things had panned out with the failed relationship. Then the job interview revelation. The lust. The love.

  So what? So what if Shawna was pregnant? It didn’t mean Lila and I couldn’t be together. It didn’t! I should never have listened to Lila, there at the altar. I should never have let her walk away, pleads and demands or not. We’d all been a little overcome by the news, that’s all. Now it was time to work through it and work it the fuck out. Because I couldn’t live without her. I didn’t fucking want to live without her. Why should I have to? I could be a father to my child and still be a husband to the woman I loved, even if the two weren’t connected. People did that shit all the time! Why hadn’t I thought of all this before?

  Because I’d been too drunk to process anything, possibly.

  Well, I wasn’t drunk now. I had one bitch of a hangover but the aspirin was helping. My hands were shaking but I kept drinking the water.

  I checked my pockets for my phone, but found nothing. Where the fuck did I put that thing? Maybe I’d left it at the house. Maybe it was still in the pocket of my tux.

  I pulled up the anchor and headed in the direction I needed to go.

  By the time I reached the dock, it was midnight. The night was clear and a billion stars were out.

  The house, as I walked into it, looked different. Damn, that nosy housekeeper. I’d told her to stay away. The last thing I needed was a witness at my goddamn meltdown.

  But then I saw something. A navy hooded sweatshirt, lying across the arm of the couch. It didn’t look like the kind of thing my housekeeper would wear. She’s grandmotherly, on the heavy side, if I recall correctly.

  I picked up that sweatshirt. I knew. I held it to my face and inhaled. I almost swooned from the scent of it. Of her.

  She was here.

  I went up the stairs.

  More of her clothes were draped over a chair. All of her clothes.

  A small, still form, in the bed, curled under the covers.

  Her hair, spilling out, catching the moonlight in an iridescent glimmering glow.

  Very gently, I peeled back the covers.

  Oh, holy hell.

  She woke, her eyes round. Relieved beyond belief. So full of love I could only stare.

  “Alexander,” she whispered, the sound of her voice slaying me.

  She opened her arms to me.

  “Come here.”

  Lila

  My Alexander looked different. Haunted. He’d lost weight. His hair was long and salty. His skin was dark with sun. He smelled of sunshine and moonlight and sea salt, along with the slightest hint of whiskey. And there, in the base notes, that minted scent that was pure Alexander. He wore only a pair of worn shorts that were frayed at the edges, slightly dirty, that hung low on his lean hips. He looked, in a word, human.

  And more beautiful than ever before.

  He was very quiet. He seemed overcome. Dazed.

  I wrapped my arms and my legs around him. I kissed his face. I buried my fingers in his beachy hair. I kissed his mouth. Slow, careful kisses. Communicating my love for him. Kisses that turned slippery and lust-sweet. He let me kiss him and I could feel in him the awe, which gave way to an unbridled hunger. Our hands were everywhere, slow and grasping. Greedy and worshipful.

  “You just can’t do that to me, honey girl,” he murmured.

  He was astoundingly hard, blindly finding his way inside. I was wet but tight and he thrust hotly into me, the full-fledged drive of big, insatiable man, gaining entry until he was deep, so deep. He sobbed my name and I kissed him again, sucking softly on his tongue as I drew myself around him, milking him with my body, loving him with everything I had. He groaned with tormented relief and lost himself, filling me in warm, flooding bursts.

  I kissed him for a long time, playing his hair, touching his face. I kissed his neck, his arms. I let him slip out of me and felt the pool of his release spill in a trickling line down my thigh. Working my way down his chest, I nipped and kissed him, taking my time, savoring every inch of him. He watched me, his eyes dark. Shadowed circles under his eyes, like bruises, showed his exhaustion. His hands stroked my hair.

  I kissed his stomach, every inch. I took his half-softened shaft in my hands, kissing him, taking him into my mouth.

  I would tell him I loved him a million times. Right now, I wanted to show him. To feel him.

  I used my hands and my mouth to worship him. I let my tongue rove, my lips pull and take and explore. I sucked on the head of his cock, pressing my tongue to the slit, teasing. I touched him everywhere with playful fingers, until he became fully, immensely hard again. He pulled me up onto the pillows and laid himself heavily on top of me. He took control, taking my mouth in scorching kisses, his tongue ravaging me with covetous, intimate plunges. His muscular leg slid between mine, forcing my legs apart. The head of his cock parted me, pulsing with need. I wrapped my legs around him, aching for more but he held. That look in his eyes, of domination and lust, of understanding and sorrow, of a love so profound I thought it might break us both, brought tears to my eyes. He slid deeper, teasing me with shallow plunges, stirring his cock inside me. I tilted my hips up to him, wanting more, needing all of him, digging my fingernails into him. He pinned me down and lunged deep, forcing me to take all of him in one savage drive. His growl was animalistic. I cried out from the aggressive, heated, spreading fullness. His hands cupped my ass, pulling me even closer as he forced himself deeper still, plunging relentlessly, driving vicious pleasure into me until we cried each other’s names and came together in voluptuous, harmonized surges.

  Alexander kissed me, eating at my mouth, plunging with his tongue as he continued to thrust into me until I came again, the lush spasms long and brimming.

  We lay there, connected, locked in an entwined, soul-touching embrace, my core still fluttering wetly around his deeply-insinuated bulk, cradling him, loving him. His eyes searching my own.

  “Where were you?” he said, his voice rasped.

  “I went to my mother’s grave. I needed to. Then I ended up in North Carolina. I worked in a restaurant for a week, as a waitress.”

  His eyebrows rose a little. “Has it been a week?”

&nb
sp; “Two weeks.”

  “Two weeks.” He considered this.

  “Jake’s worried about you. You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

  “I just remembered what happened to it. I threw it in the ocean.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows at him, scolding him silently. “Why?”

  “You wouldn’t answer me.”

  God, how I loved him. I touched my fingers to his face. To the dark shadows under his eyes. “That was you? I kept getting messages from someone named A. I wasn’t sure who it was.”

  He put his mouth to my ear, biting the soft flesh of my earlobe until I squirmed.

  “I need you,” he whispered, rocking his hips and sliding into me again, his fingers searching and pushing into the puckered cove of my ass, which was slippery from his overflowing cum. He may have been weakened and exhausted, but he was still as strong as a bull.

  “I tried to call you,” I gasped as the rhythm of his double-pronged invasion gained momentum, reigniting the ripples of my still-ebbing orgasm, until I came again, my clenching, writhing body sucking him deeper, making him harder. Still coming, I breathed, “I love you, A. I love you so much. I missed you so much.” I was crying again, from the exquisite cocktail of overflowing pleasure and heady, beautiful love.

  “Don’t run from me, honey. I just can’t handle that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll figure everything out. Give me a chance to figure it out. Give me a chance.”

  God, he didn’t even know. I’d forgotten: he didn’t know.

  I held his face. I wasn’t sure if he might be disappointed, somewhere deep inside. “There’s no baby, Alexander. She made it up. To break us apart.”

  He stared down at me, the lines of his face severe. “What?”

  “Jake made her take a court-ordered pregnancy test. She’s not pregnant. She was never pregnant.”

  He went silent, his expression unreadable. “Holy shit.”

  “Are you okay?”

  His focus was searingly intense. “Of course I’m okay. I’m fucking overjoyed.” God, he was thrusting into me again, that big, rock-hard cock sliding in and out, the thick, bold friction delicious, flawless, divine. He slid deep and held. He kissed my lips. “I want babies with you, sweet girl. You. Oh my god, I can’t believe it. All that, for nothing. Lila, Jesus. Will you marry me now? Will you? Now?”