The Complete Bad Boy Billionaire Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

  “Emily?”

  She’s at the threshold instantly, her face hopeful.

  “I need the legal team here in fifteen minutes. Tell them to cancel their plans for the evening.”

  She nods tightly. If she’s disappointed about having to work late, she doesn’t show it on her face. “Would you like me to order in?”

  “Yes. It could be a long evening.”

  I reach for my phone to send Angelica a text, but think better of it. It’s 5:00 now, so she should be on her way out of the office.

  She picks up on the first ring.

  “Hey.” She sounds excited and breathless, like she’s taking the stairs down to the first floor. The sound of her shoes clattering against the metal stairwell breaks through the noise cancelling effect on her phone. That’s exactly what she’s doing. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing tonight, or is it a surprise?”

  “That’s what I’m calling about.”

  “Change of plans?”

  “Something came up with an acquisition I’ve been working on for weeks. I have to be here.” This is a half-truth. Connor could meet with the lawyers without me, but I can’t stand it if one more thing goes wrong on my watch while I’m gone with a woman—even if it’s Angelica.

  I wait for her to be upset.

  “Ugh, what a bummer,” Angelica says, and there’s no whining disappointment, only empathy in her voice. “Another night, then.”

  “Another night.”

  “I’ll wait up!” she says, and laughs at her own joke.

  As pissed as I am, it puts a smile on my face.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Angelica

  Monday is my day to work from home.

  Hadley the Profit Queen gives each of her employees one day each month to work at home so that she can put “flexible schedules” on the perk sheet for new hires, and Monday is my day. She’s been so on edge lately that I’d assumed that kind of perk was withdrawn.

  Howie, Jett’s personal assistant, has just brought breakfast to the bedroom when the email comes in. We are sitting at a table for two in a sunny breakfast nook across from the living area. The windows on three sides of the nook offer a fantastic view of the city.

  “Damn,” I say, around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

  “What?”

  “Hadley’s actually going through with it.”

  “With...?”

  Jett snaps a piece of crispy bacon in two and sticks it into his mouth. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “We each get a day to work from home each month. I thought she’d cancel mine.”

  “Are you a subpar employee?”

  I stick my tongue out at him, then take a sip of my cranberry juice. “She didn’t cancel it, if that tells you anything.” I open another app on my phone. “There’s a Starbucks three blocks from here. I can set up shop there.”

  “Don’t be silly. My office is yours.”

  My stomach twists at the offer. Over the last week, it’s like I’ve divided myself in my mind—the criminal Angelica who steals information for some kind of crime ring and the Angelica who’s a little bit head over heels for Jett Brandon. The worst, though, is when the two collide.

  Because, of course, offering me his office sets me up perfectly to get the information I need, and working from home will make it easy to meet Charlie for the drop-off.

  “You’re too kind.”

  “It’s just an office. I have several.”

  “Are you bragging about the number of offices you have?” I give him a cheeky grin.

  “Just a fact of life,” Jett says. “I can’t offer you any company, though.”

  “Company?”

  “For work. I’ve got meetings this morning that I don’t want to reschedule. I could rearrange my afternoon and be here instead. If you wanted.”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t want to take you away from anything important. I’ll just be here, doing Hadley’s bidding.”

  Jett throws his napkin to the tablecloth, stands up, and crosses over so he’s standing behind me. When his lips make contact with my neck, goose bumps rise on the back of my arms. “What about my bidding?”

  “Are you...are you into that kind of thing?” He’s brushing his lips down the curve of my shoulder, setting every nerve ending on fire.

  “Dominating women?”

  “Yeah.” My voice is breathy, and not on purpose.

  “If you’re imagining that ridiculous movie, then no. I don’t have a dungeon with whips and chains. But I do love to be in control.”

  “Over me?”

  “If you like.”

  My breath catches in my throat. I’ve never understood the appeal of the whole dominant/submissive scene, but the sensation of Jett pinning my arms above my head and fucking me comes roaring back. I wouldn’t mind more of that.

  He presses his lips against my cheek one more time. “I’ll be back at noon.”

  Then he’s gone, and I’m left with wet heat pooling between my legs and guilt churning in my gut.

  I’m in Jett’s penthouse office, his computer pressed to the corner of the desk, flash drive doing its dirty work, my work laptop positioned neatly in the center of the mahogany surface, when a woman bustles in. Like a guilty asshole, I jump nearly a foot in the air and reach for the flash drive, stopping myself just in time.

  “Oh,” she gasps, putting her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry, Miss Chandler. Mr. Brandon didn’t tell me that anyone would be here this morning.”

  My pulse rushes in my ears. This has to be his cleaning lady, his maid, whatever. I’m usually gone by the time she comes in the mornings. For the life of me, I can’t remember her name. It’s only slightly less awkward that she knows mine.

  I give her a shaky smile. “You must be Mrs.—”

  “Mrs. Henderson,” she says, beaming at me. “I can come back later for this room, Miss Chandler.”

  “No, no, it’s not a problem.” I stand up from behind the desk. “Is there...anything I can help with?”

  Her laugh is grandmotherly and sweet. “No, Miss Chandler, not at all. I just do a quick dust and a vacuum.”

  I move toward the door and let her in. She bustles around the room, expertly flicking a duster in the nooks and crannies of the bookshelves and over the surface of the desk. I don’t really want to leave the flash drive, and it seems ultra-rude to disappear down the hallway.

  “How long have you worked for Mr. Brandon?”

  She smiles again. “Oh, I’ve been with the Brandon’s since he was a little boy—twenty years now, I’d say. He asked me to keep his houses when he moved back to Manhattan.” Mrs. Henderson glances over at me. “He usually doesn’t have guests stay so long.”

  I blush. “He’s very generous.”

  She grins at me and guides the duster over a collection of glass trophies. Business achievements, I assume. “You must be good for him.”

  I smile back at her. “What makes you say that?”

  Mrs. Henderson purses her lips, thoughtful. “He’s always prided himself on being successful without much help from his father. I think in some ways it made him a little...cold. And that woman didn’t help.” She frowns at the thought of “that woman,” then brightens again when her eyes meet mine. “The way he is about you—always wanting the best things brought for you, making little plans to please you—it reminds me of the way he was when he was younger. He’s got a much bigger heart than he lets on.”

  And here I am, stealing from him.

  Mrs. Henderson runs a vacuum over the carpet in the office, ending the conversation, then bows out. She’s got the rest of the penthouse to attend to.

  “It was lovely to meet you, Miss Chandler.”

  “You, too, Mrs. Henderson.”

  As soon as she’s gone, I swallow the thick lump in my throat and snatch the drive out of Jett’s computer, dropping it into my purse. Charlie is going to have to meet me early.
>
  That’s it.

  This is the last time I’m giving Charlie anything. Adam is safely out of Manhattan—he texted me last night when he got in—so if there are any repercussions, he won’t be involved. I’ll deliver the flash drive this last time, and then....

  I’m going to tell Jett the truth.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jett

  After a Monday afternoon spent tempting Angelica into bed and watching her gorgeous naked body cross and recross the room, checking email and making phone calls, the Tuesday landscape of the office seems like a damn prison, colorless and stifling.

  It doesn’t help that things have intensified with the merger investigation. If I wasn’t so determined to personally verify that things are being resolved—if I was one of those types who could just leave the company in the hands of the CEOs and survive on daily updates—I would be at home with Angelica. Or on one of my yachts somewhere in the south of France.

  “They’re asking for more documentation on last year’s partnership ventures,” Connor says from the doorway. He’s been working nonstop since the whistleblower news broke, putting out fires and keeping me posted up to the minute on financials.

  “Hand over whatever they want. We’re fucking squeaky clean. The last thing we want to do is give the impression that we’ve got anything to hide.”

  My phone rings nonstop all morning. The news has gained traction on the internet, which is goddamn wonderful, and the rabid journalists are looking for quotes from anyone who’s ever been near the website.

  After the fifth press call, I tell Emily to route any outside requests to the PR department. They can filter out the urgent calls and send them to me if it’s absolutely necessary. In the meantime, I’m going to have a new number programmed to represent my office. It gets leaked every so often, and days like today make it perfectly clear when my direct line has become public knowledge.

  It’s one thing after another all day.

  Then, just after 3:00, Connor comes back, his face red, his jaw clenched. “Big fucking problem, Jett.”

  I put down the documents I’ve been reviewing as Connor drops into the seat across the desk from me. “Bigger than fraud?”

  “Way bigger. In the course of the investigation, they found porn being hosted on their servers.”

  I give him a look. “If they’ve got an accounting problem, it’s no surprise that they’ve got other issues beneath the surface. Why are you so shaken up about it?”

  “It’s not just any porn.” Connor gives me a meaningful look.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is PR on it?”

  “They’re watching the news release right now.”

  “I want us distanced as far as humanly fucking possible from these scumbags.”

  “Right now they’re claiming that their servers were hacked.”

  “You think anybody’s going to remember that excuse?”

  “No.” Connor rubs his hands over his face. “No, I don’t.”

  “I want everybody on the management level coached with prepared statements. The press isn’t going to—.” As if on cue, my desk phone rings. I slam my finger down on the button to route the call to Emily. “The press has been sniffing around all morning, and I bet they had an inkling that some shit like this was going to break. Anybody with a public phone number is going to be on their call roster. Including you.”

  “I’ll take the message to the PR team on the way back to my office.”

  “I’ll be here, trying to salvage something decent from this disaster.”

  My stomach tightens as he goes out the door.

  I’m not leaving early tonight, and now that this is a mess of epic fucking proportions, I shouldn’t even consider it.

  I’m still fielding calls at 5:45 when there’s a soft knock at the door. I hold up one finger and finish the call I’m on. Emily has been doing some of her best work today. I might give her a bonus.

  But it’s not Emily at the door. It’s Angelica, a bag of takeout in her arms. She gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “Hey, sweet thing.” My chest heats up at the sight of her.

  “I saw the news online while I was doing some research for my next package,” she says, coming tentatively into the office and standing next to the two seats situated across the desk from me. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Her usual confidence is muted. “Just an endless stream of phone calls.” I stand up and go around the desk to her, taking her chin in my hands and tilting her head up for a kiss. “I’m glad you came. I’m fucking starving.”

  Angelica’s smile isn’t as bright as I would have expected, but it’s probably just because she feels a little weird about visiting me at headquarters. My office can be intimidating, or so I’ve heard.

  “Have a seat.” I let her have her pick of the two chairs, then go back to the door. “Emily?”

  “Mr. Brandon?” she answers from behind her computer, her head tilted so that she can see me. She pauses the furious typing she’s been doing all day for a moment.

  “I’m having dinner in my office. Hold my calls.”

  Emily smiles at me, her lips pressed tightly together like she wants to hide her glee, but then she nods and resumes typing. I’ve never allowed a woman to come to the office before. She’s probably beside herself thinking of all the possibilities.

  I close the door behind me and take the seat next to Angelica. She’s already laid out the food—two cheeseburgers on beds of waffle fries, the toppings slightly off-center from their journey. I crack a huge smile.

  “It’s not a five-star place or anything,” Angelica says, a little tremble in her voice, pink rising to her cheeks. “I just thought—.”

  “You thought right.” I lean over and cover her mouth with mine, kissing her like she’s just presented me with the fanciest meal ever served to man.

  “Thank God,” she whispers when we come up for air, but a frown crosses her face for just an instant before she replaces it with an enthusiastic smile. “Let’s eat.”

  I pick up one of the steak fries and watch her as she slides the lettuce on her burger back into place, then grabs one of the plastic knives from the bag and cuts it in half.

  A late day at work, and Angelica brings me dinner.

  Two things hit me at once.

  First, I don’t want to spend my life at the office. Not anymore.

  And second, I always want Angelica to be by my side.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Angelica

  I don’t have any fucking clue why I keep playing this game, going so far as to bring Jett takeout in his office.

  My stomach dropped into my toes when I saw the news online about the company he’s been working at acquiring, a social media platform called LinkLove. He’s mentioned the acquisition a few times, but never the name of the company. The gossip sites caught fire when it came out that there had been child porn found on their servers, and they gleefully reported that Brandon, Inc. had been in negotiations to acquire them for weeks. The bookkeeping shit immediately got pushed to the background, but none of it is good for Jett.

  I’d planned to sit down with him at the penthouse when he got home. At first, I thought I could wait it out, put it off one more day, but after what happened with Charlie yesterday, I just couldn’t.

  He’d met me outside a different coffee shop, this time dressed in a button-down and shorts that made him look like a tourist.

  I handed him the flash drive as quickly as I could, holding it in my fingertips so I wouldn’t have to touch his skin.

  He leered at me. “You’re an excellent mole, Angelica. I’m pleased with your work.

  This isn’t work, it’s extortion. Not that I could say that to him.

  Instead, I took a deep breath. “Do you have what you need?”

  He cocked his head at me, his gray eyes boring into mine. “Was I not clear before? This assignment is ongoing.”

  M
y jaw clenched so hard that my molars ground together. “I’m running out of reasons to stay at his penthouse.”

  Charlie laughed, the sound making the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Jett Brandon has been taking you all over the city. He’s had several weeks’ worth of clothes delivered to his nice little penthouse. Are you telling me he’s not in love with you?”

  I swallowed hard. “He’s not in love with me. He’s just extremely wealthy. You should know that.”

  Charlie shook his head, slowly, like he couldn’t believe my own stupidity. “You did your job too well, sweetheart. The man can’t get enough of you.” Then he laughs again. “It’s only too bad you’re fleecing him.”

  “You are. Not me.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. If it weren’t for your information deposits—,” he says, waving the flash drive in front of my face, “—I’d be months behind on this latest...project. Months, and millions.”

  The blood drained from my face. Millions of dollars? Well, what the fuck should I have expected, that Charlie would go after a billionaire for pocket change?

  “If you’re millions ahead, then I think you could consider Adam’s debt paid.”

  He gave a slow nod, and for a split second I thought maybe he would agree with me, that he might call it off. “It’s true—I’ve recovered the....investment I made in Adam.” His smile is wide but cruel, no kindness in his eyes. “But you are proving to be far more lucrative.”

  Fucking asshole. “That wasn’t the deal we made.”

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, forcing me to step back. The only thing keeping him from hitting me, I was sure, was the fact that there were people in the coffee shop, and he can’t keep running his “business” if he’s in jail.

  “The deal is off when I say it’s off.” I can see his muscles flexing, nostrils flaring. This was dangerous ground. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, that my brother doesn’t owe him anything anymore, and that he wouldn’t be seeing me, but the memory of his fist crashing into Adam’s face, more horrible threats in his eyes, made me bite my tongue.