My Roommate, the Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 3)

by Serenity Woods

“Jesus,” Stefan says, “what a fucking awful night.”

  “How are the other animals?” I ask.

  “They’re okay. Shaken up, but no injuries to worry about.”

  I meet his eyes over the top of Remy’s head. When I hold out a hand, he grasps it briefly.

  Noah places a blanket around my shoulders. “Thought you were a goner there for a minute,” he says.

  “Me too. Thank you for coming out to find me.”

  “Least I can do.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles.

  “I’m sorry about the Ark,” I say softly, feeling Remy’s fingers curling around mine.

  “Buildings can be mended,” he says. “As long as everyone’s all right, I’m not worried.”

  I kiss Remy’s head, then bend down and place a hand on the Pointer. “Will she be okay?”

  “Too soon to tell,” Hal says. “She’s soaked through and scared, and her heart rate is all over the place. Once the storm dies down, we’ll keep her warm and quiet, and see how she is tomorrow.”

  I rub her ears, tears stinging my eyes. To go through all that and not make it… Surely she’ll be all right?

  “What’s her name?” Hal asks softly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s up to you,” he says. “You saved her life. You can name her.”

  I stroke her head. “Her name is Belle.”

  “Oh, Albie,” Remy says, and I smile.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Remy

  It seems as if blowing over the tree took all the storm’s energy. Within thirty minutes, the gusts die down. It’s still incredibly windy, still raining, and there’s still no electricity, but it looks as if the worst is over.

  “You should go home,” Noah says to Albie and me.

  “No way,” Albie replies. “There’s loads to do here.”

  “It’s getting late, and you’ve hurt your shoulder. You need to rest it, get an ice pack on it. We’ll start cleaning up tomorrow.”

  “You need every hand you’ve got here,” Albie says, looking behind us at the organized chaos of animals and people.

  “No, we need to start settling everything down.” Noah’s obviously decided to take charge. “We’ll keep one side of the room for those needing rehoming, and put the recovery animals on the other side. Hal, Izzy, Stefan, and Jules are going to stay with the animals for the night, and a couple of the nurses are coming in early tomorrow. Everyone else can go home and get clean and dry.”

  I look around. Nix is trying to clean the blood from Leon’s face—he’s soaked through, although he’s still trying to organize things around her. Summer is looking at one of the cats that had surgery, but I can see she’s wet through and shivering, and then she coughs. She can’t afford to get a chest infection. Noah’s right. It’s time to round things up.

  Albie hesitates, and I put a hand on his arm. “You have done enough,” I tell him softly. “Come on. We need to clean up some of those cuts on your hands, too.”

  He goes over to Belle, who’s still lying on her side, covered in a blanket. He bends down and kisses her head, making me blink rapidly to stop tears forming.

  “I’ll look after her,” Hal says. “Come and see her in the morning.”

  Albie rises, and I collect my purse. “Summer,” he says, “do you need a lift home?”

  “Please—Zach dropped me off this morning.” She slips on a rain jacket and picks up her purse. “You’re sure, Noah?”

  “Of course. You need to take care of yourself.” Noah hugs her, and emotion tightens my throat again. I’m surprised to find myself shaking a little. It’s the storm, I think, all the excitement and fear and worry. Noah’s right—we need to get home, get clean and dry, and have a hot drink. Or possibly something stronger.

  We say goodbye to everyone, then Noah holds open the door, and the three of us slip out. It’s still incredibly windy, and a gust nearly knocks both me and Summer off our feet, while rain pelts us. I didn’t think I could get any wetter, but now I’m completely soaked. Albie puts an arm around both of us, and we walk with heads down to his car.

  “Jesus,” Albie says once we’re inside and we’ve shut the doors. “What a crazy night.” He turns on the engine and heads the car out onto the main road, the headlights sweeping across the grass, which is completely flat. “We’re lucky none of the cars got damaged. There was stuff flying around all over the place.”

  “There’s going to be a lot of work to do tomorrow,” Summer says from the back seat, and coughs again.

  Albie looks at her in his rearview mirror. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look pale.”

  “I’m tired. It’s been a crazy day.”

  He doesn’t say anything else, but I know him well enough to know he’s worried about her. I’m not surprised. When you have CF, any kind of cold or chest infection is a potential problem, especially at her age. I can’t bear to think of something happening to her.

  For the first time, I wonder whether I’ll stay in touch with any of them when I return to France. Will I get a phone call, an email, a text from Albie or Jules a few years from now telling me something’s happened to Summer? Will it hurt as much as the thought does now? Or by then will I just feel a little sadness for that golden time I spent in the country on the other side of the world?

  Albie reaches out and covers my hand with his, and I glance over at him.

  “You’re shaking,” he says.

  “I’m c-cold.” It’s mostly that. I’m overcome with emotion, and I have to bite my lip not to cry. What the hell’s wrong with me?

  The road is filled with fallen branches and debris, and he has to drive slowly. He holds my hand all the way to Summer’s house, which lies at Haruru Falls, just outside Paihia. When we get there, I realize she must have texted Zach because he’s waiting at the door, light spilling out around him onto the garden. They appear to have power here, anyway. He comes out and wraps his arms around his wife as she gets out of the car, and she buries her face in his sweater.

  “Hey,” Zach says to Albie, who’s lowered his window. “Everything all right?”

  “The wind ripped up the pohutukawa outside Ward Seven and it came crashing down. Half the building’s gone.”

  “Jesus.” Zach tightens his arms around his wife. “You’re shivering,” he tells her.

  “We all got soaked,” Albie says. “She’s been coughing. Zach, I’m so sorry, man.”

  I’d known it wasn’t good for Summer to be unwell, but their serious faces send a chill through me.

  “All right,” Zach says, rubbing her back. “A hot bath, a whisky, and bed for you, my girl.”

  She nods, bends and kisses Albie’s cheek, then lets Zach lead her up the path to her door. Albie waits for the door to close, then pulls away again, heading for home.

  “You are really worried about her,” I say.

  Albie indicates at the roundabout and takes the turnoff for his road. “She’s thirty-seven this year. That’s the average life expectancy of someone with Cystic Fibrosis.”

  That shocks me. “I had no idea.”

  “Of course lots of people with CF live to be much older. It’s just a number. But she’s been hospitalized several times over the last few years, and… I don’t know, it feels as if she’s living on borrowed time, you know?”

  “Oh Albie, I’m so sorry. I’d have taken care of her if I’d known, made her stay in the rehoming center, out of the rain.”

  He laughs. “There’s no way you’d be able to make Summer do something she didn’t want to do. She’s her own girl. It’s just one of those things. Doesn’t mean we have to like it, though.” He takes my hand again. “We need to get you warmed up, too. You’re trembling.”

  “I am sorry, I cannot stop.” My bottom lip wobbles, and I bite it hard.

  Albie glances over at me. “Are you okay?”

  “It is shock, I think. Sorry to be such a wuss. But what happened at the Ark, and the animals, and
you… When the tree came down, I really thought it had crushed you, Albie. I was terrified.”

  “My first thought was of you, too.”

  “Really?”

  He nods, removing his hand from mine as he swings onto his long drive. He presses the button on the remote attached to the sun visor, and the garage door lifts. “The electricity’s back on,” he says, “thank God. I hate being without power.” He drives the car in before lowering the door again.

  “Come on,” he says.

  We get out of the car, and he unlocks the internal door that leads into the kitchen. “Right,” he says. “First things first. Take off your jacket. I’ll pour us a drink.”

  While I peel off my jacket and hang it in the hallway, Albie tips a good measure of brandy into two tumblers and hands me one when I return. “Down in one,” he instructs.

  I take a mouthful of the expensive French brandy and feel it sear down to my stomach. I cough and put a hand over my mouth, and he smiles. “Finish it up.” It takes me a couple more mouthfuls, but I finish the drink and place the tumbler on the counter.

  The brandy is like drinking lava, but it doesn’t stop me shivering. It’s hard to stop my teeth chattering, and I’m close to bursting into tears. Albie surveys me thoughtfully, then takes my hand and leads me through the house. Each of the four bedrooms has an en suite bathroom with a shower, but his bedroom is next to the main bathroom that has a shower and a bath. I use it sometimes if I fancy a bath, which is how I discovered what aftershave he uses.

  He turns on the light, opens the shower door, and switches the water on, turning it to hot. Then, while it heats up, he comes back to me and inspects my face. He runs a facecloth under the water, and comes back and wipes at my cheek. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  I shake my head. Now we’re under the bright light, I can see him properly. He’s soaked through, too, his hands and face smeared with streaks of blood, and I can see from the way he’s moving that his shoulder is giving him trouble.

  I take the facecloth from him, re-wet it, and clean his face, then wipe it over his hands. He’s not badly hurt, it’s all nicks and cuts, and they must sting, but he just keeps his gaze on my face, not saying anything. I think of the tree coming down, and the moment when Leon called him and he didn’t answer. I thought I’d lost him. Tears prick my eyes, and I swallow hard.

  Albie takes the facecloth from my hands and puts it aside. The room is filling with steam, so the water must be hot. “Get in the shower,” he instructs. “Warm yourself up. Then we’ll have another drink.”

  I catch his hand as he goes to walk past me. “Albie.”

  He turns.

  I’m shaking so hard I can barely speak. “Don’t go.”

  He meets my eyes. The light brings out the orange highlights in his, making them seem bright and warm. “All right,” he says softly.

  He takes my wet top by the hem, waits for me to nod, and then peels it up. I lift my arms so he can pull it over my head, and he drops it into the sink. I do the same to him, peeling the material up his body and over his head, and placing it aside. I’m wearing a white silk cami top that’s plastered to my body and completely see-through, but at this stage I don’t care. He helps me off with my jeans, leaving me in just the cami and a pair of panties, and I help him get his off, leaving him in a pair of black boxer-briefs. I’d have fainted with lust if I wasn’t shivering so much.

  He opens the shower door and steps in, waits for me to get in with him, and closes the door behind us.

  Then he puts his arms around me and holds me close, letting the hot water cascade over us.

  I slide my arms around his waist and rest my cheek on his shoulder, and we stand there like that for a long, long time. I cry, a little, but it’s like I’m too overwhelmed to let it all out. Instead, I close my eyes and try not to think about anything except how wonderful it is to be held by this man, how heavenly it is to be warm and loved. Because he loves me. Maybe not romantically, not yet, because it’s too soon for that, but he loves me as a friend, I know he does. He has a huge heart, like all the Kings, and he finds it easy to love, and be loved in return.

  His hands skate over my skin, stroking my back, gentle and reassuring, although he doesn’t try to touch me anywhere else.

  I lift my head and move back a little. “I am sorry,” I whisper. “I have just thought how difficult this must be for you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You must be wondering what I am doing, whether I just want comfort or whether I am initiating something more.”

  “I don’t mind, Remy.”

  “I cannot tell you because I do not know. I am so confused. I feel as if I have a huge knot, right here.” I put a fist under my heart.

  He lifts my chin so he can look into my eyes. “It’s been a helluva day, and we’ve both been through a lot. It’s okay to want comfort, to be held.” He glances down ruefully. “Just ignore that—it has a mind of its own. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  I follow his gaze down. His erection juts out through the tight black cotton shorts.

  I lift my eyes back to his. He gives a shrug as if to say, “What can you do?”

  And suddenly, I know what I want. Nothing else matters, I realize, not after a day like today, with the Ark and Belle the dog and learning what I have about Summer.

  “Seems a shame to waste it,” I whisper, resting my hands on his chest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Albie

  Remy’s brown eyes beg me to kiss her.

  Oh fuck. Now what do I do?

  In my head, Brock is telling me not to take advantage of a woman when she’s emotional and upset. Remy doesn’t want to get involved before she returns to France, but she likes me, and she can’t fight it any longer. Sleeping together is going to complicate things—even I know that. Brock is right—I should take the higher ground, let her down gently, and see how she feels tomorrow, when her emotions aren’t so raw.

  My mother would say don’t be arrogant and tell Remy that what she’s feeling right now is wrong. Don’t assume you know best and make a woman’s decision for her. It’s certainly true that this hasn’t come out of the blue. We’ve been heading toward this for a while; it’s not just happened today. She’d also tell me not to act entirely on instinct, and to think carefully before I jump in with both feet.

  On the other hand, Matt is rolling his eyes and saying I’d be an idiot not to go ahead when she told me she wants to sleep with me, and Remy’s just said it would be a shame to waste my erection. I desperately want him to be right.

  Which voice should I follow? I don’t want to do the wrong thing.

  I think of my father, and of his wise words to me once, when I was a teenager. “People communicate as if they’re writing in code, Albie—they can all read the messages, but you and I don’t have the cipher. We can only do what’s in our hearts. We might get it wrong sometimes, but those who love us will be patient and understand.”

  All I can do is be honest. I think of another piece of Matt’s advice—just be yourself.

  “Don’t worry about wasting it,” I say to Remy. “Erections are like buses—there’ll be another one along in a few minutes.”

  She gives a short laugh and rubs her nose. I cup her face and look into her eyes. “We don’t have to do anything. We can dry off, get ourselves a drink, and cuddle up in front of the TV. How does that sound?”

  She puts her hands on my forearms, stroking the wet skin with her thumbs. “I think you are the nicest man in the world, Albie King.”

  “Hmm. Not sure I want that accolade. It doesn’t sound very sexy.”

  “Oh, you are the sexiest, too,” she whispers. She moves closer to me, pressing me up against the glass. The top she’s wearing is like a second skin, completely transparent, her pink nipples showing through and pressing against my chest. It’s not helping the erection situation.

  “Remy…” I say helplessly. I’ve been brought up to believe that any time a girl say
s stop, a guy has to stop, and I’m never so far gone that I’m not conscious of that, but even so… I’m only human.

  She smiles. “It is okay, mon cœur. I know what I am doing. I know this will not make it easier for me to go. But I like you so much. And I want you… I cannot think about anything else. I have spent the past week thinking about you, kissing you, touching you…” Her eyes glaze over, her expression turning helpless. “I am going to self-combine.”

  “Self-combust,” I tell her, and smile back.

  “You heat me up,” she whispers, lifting onto her tiptoes and bringing her lips closer to mine. “I ache for you, Albie. I need you.”

  Oh holy Jesus, how the fuck am I supposed to deal with that?

  She brushes her lips against mine, but doesn’t kiss me properly. She needs me to make the final decision.

  And of course, I’m not going to turn her down. How could I? She’s beautiful, sensual, funny, warm, and she’s touched my heart in ways I never expected. She’s also nearly naked, and I’m sorry, Uncle Brock, but Uncle Matt’s won the argument in this instance.

  Holding her by the hips, I move her away. Her smile fades, and disbelief and anguish appear in her eyes.

  But when I continue to move her back, up against the tiles, and step up close to her, her eyes spark again.

  Taking her transparent top by the hem, I lift it off her and drop it onto the floor. She peels her panties down her legs and steps out of them, while I remove my underwear. And then we’re both naked, and there’s nothing between us, nothing at all to stop me having this wonderful woman in every way I can imagine.

  “Remy…” I whisper, placing my fingers on her waist and drawing them lightly up the side of her ribs. “Are you sure…?”

  She nods and raises her arms around my neck, and then her lips are on mine, and my tongue is in her mouth, and I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, because I’m sure I can hear angels singing.

  Mmm… her skin is wet and silky smooth beneath my fingertips. I run them up her back, down and around her waist, and finally bring my hands up to cup her breasts. She arches into the embrace, and I sigh and fill my palms with their softness, rubbing my thumbs over the hard buttons of her nipples. She has the most beautiful breasts, full but high, and I lift my head and admire the way the water runs over them, coating them until they shine.