Need (Bad Boys with Billions Book 3)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Yeah . . .” Right up until the part where he had to leave for his date.

  He pushed my burgundy cashmere cardigan past my shoulders, then draped it over a heated towel rack. My rain-spotted ivory scoop-neck was next. Over my head it went. The air in the mostly granite room was chilly and raised goosebumps on my forearms. Nathan rubbed them until they went away, then drew me into a hug.

  I reached for his crotch—not wanting to think about my daughter or his job. I just wanted to feel. But he brushed my hand away.

  “Don’t think for a second I don’t want you, but if we’re going to be official, I want to slow things down—you know, take time to court you. As is, we started upside down. Hot sex, but no substance. You need to talk about your daughter, and I want to hear, but I’d be some kind of perv if I got you naked for something this heavy.” I sighed.

  He knelt in front of me, tenderly unbuttoning my jeans, then helping me wriggle free of them. A skimpy lace vee was the only thing between him and my happy ending, but true to his word, without so much as a glance in the direction that typically drove both of us over the edge, he took a thick white terry robe from a hook on the wall, wrapped me in it, then carried me to his sumptuous, king-sized bed. Lying on the mattress felt like being suspended on a cloud.

  “Why don’t we sleep over here more often?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  In the process of changing into gray sweat bottoms and a white tee, he shrugged before joining me under downy, gold-toned covers.

  “I mean, you’ve got to be paying a fortune in rent. We should be over here jumping on the bed and roller-skating on the gorgeous wood floors.”

  He slipped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer. Once I’d snuggled against him, he drew my damp hair aside to nuzzle my neck. “You smell good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I want to meet your mom.”

  “No.”

  He lurched back as if my lone word burned him.

  “Sorry.” I bowed my head, clasping my hands. “It’s too soon.”

  “Translation—either you’re too embarrassed by me for an introduction, or you don’t think what we share has a shot in hell of lasting long enough to warrant meeting the parents . . .” He shot out of the bed.

  I chased him into the kitchen to find him taking a beer from the fridge.

  More than anything, I wanted to reach out to him, put my arms around him and reassure him that neither of his assumptions was true, but how could I do that when they were?

  How would the conversation even go? Hi, Mom—meet my new boyfriend. He’s a male escort

  . . . But don’t worry, he likes me a lot, and just because he spends most every night out with other women, Nathan and I are going to be together forever.

  “Nathan . . .” I stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island from him, gripping the black granite’s cool edge.

  “This is stupid, isn’t? Let’s just admit it—the two of us, we’re never going to work. Neither of us are the white-picket-fence type, and . . .” He slammed the fridge door. “You should probably go.”

  “Nathan . . .” How had such an idyllic day gone downhill so fast? What he was saying was 100 percent correct, but that didn’t make it hurt less. It didn’t make me want him less. Even though I knew everything about this man was wrong for me, I’d never wanted anyone more. And that scared me enough that my every instinct was to run.

  “I told you to leave.” He wouldn’t even look at me.

  What had I done? Never had I felt more instinctively drawn toward a man, more turned on, more certain he was all right for me, yet at the same time all wrong. I rounded the island’s corner to reach for him, but he’d turned his back on me, and even if I did touch him, what would I say? I’d already delivered an insincere apology.

  Where could I go from there to make him believe I genuinely cared? I didn’t have a clue how to express my true feelings, let alone how to believe they were real—that he was real. Ultimately, that the magic we shared was real.

  All of that fear and doubt propelled me to the master bath, where I regretfully removed his robe to return it to its hook, smoothing my fingers across the plush fabric, smoothing the places where it had clung to Nathan’s chest. I dressed in my soggy jeans and sweater before cramming my feet into wet heels. Only a fool wore heels on a rainy day in San Francisco, but I guess I fit the bill.

  I left the bathroom and teetered across the vast expanse of polished wood floor.

  Nathan hadn’t budged. He stood with his usually strong, squared shoulders slouched and defeated.

  Do something! the woman in me who was desperate to stop searching for a life and start living urged. Make him understand that sure, you hate his job, but even worse, you hate yourself for being too afraid to tell him you’re scared to death of him using his job to eventually find another woman—a better woman. Prettier. Richer. Better in bed.

  But I could barely admit all of that to myself, so how did I expect to spill those innermost confessions to him? Impossible. That’s what we were.

  I knew it.

  He knew it.

  We’d been doomed from the first night we’d come together on Liam’s beach.

  I opened my mouth to at least thank him for the brief, intense, spellbinding time we’d shared, but then thought better of dragging this out any longer, and so I went to the door.

  I’d already wrapped my palm around the cold brass knob when he said, “Carol . . . Wait . . .” My next breath caught somewhere between my throat and lips.

  “What if I quit the job? What if I moved out of here? Got my old job back at Food Mart? Then, would you think I was good enough to meet your mom?”

  I arched my head back and groaned. Silly Nathan. How could he not have a clue that he wasn’t the problem, but me? My insecurities and hang-ups and issues. He’d never been anything but honest with me, yet I’d never done anything but hide my most basic truths from him.

  “Tell me,” he begged. “Would that be enough?”

  I don’t know! How could I possibly know? The only thing I did know was that I could no more walk out this door that I still held a death-grip on than I could conceive of living without him.

  “Answer me!” Somehow he now stood behind me, and he spun me around to face him.

  “Tell me now—if I give up all of this,” he gestured to our ostentatious surroundings, “would it be enough for you to believe that more than anything else, I want you?” With his big square hands he braced my cheeks. My tears spilled like warm raindrops between his fingers.

  “Move in with me,” I said. “I’ll help you find another job—not with Liam, but something else. A real career you can be proud of.”

  He shook his head. “If we do this, it’s my way. I’ll find my own place. My own job. And you’ll trust me enough to believe I would never do anything to hurt you. Can you do that?”

  I’m not sure how, but I nodded.

  He kissed me, smearing my tears across our lips, and when our mouths parted for a feverish sweep of our tongues, the taste was salty and sad and at the same time, hopeful, as if we’d weathered our worst storm and from now on, we’d only bask in sunshine.

  We tore at each other’s clothes and somehow found a condom, rolled it on Nathan, and then made it to the bed where our brief, cataclysmic union left us panting and holding each other as though if we let go, we might never find our way back.

  Nathan

  “What a happy coincidence.” The morning after Carol and I had our big blow-up and I’d promised I’d quit my escort job, I showed up bright and early at the front door of Uma’s mansion. I’d slung my duffel bag over my right shoulder and wore jeans and a flannel shirt and pea jacket I’d found at the back of my closet from what I now considered the good old days back before Uma and I had even met.

  She stepped aside so I could enter. Eyeing me, she blanched. “What are you wearing? You’re scheduled for an eleven o’clock brunch with Mrs. Vincent at her country club.”
/>
  “About that . . .” I winced. “I won’t be able to make it.”

  Her usual guard watched from the upper gallery.

  “Unless you’ve suddenly developed smallpox or Ebola, you will make it. She’s a lovely woman and expecting you. What’s the problem?”

  “I can’t do this anymore. I met a woman, and—”

  “Ah, let me guess—Ms. Carol Moore doesn’t approve of your line of work and wants you all for herself?”

  The fact that Carol was even on Uma’s radar churned my already knotted stomach.

  “I’ll take your silence as a yes. What I won’t take is your resignation.”

  “Look, I’ve already moved out of the apartment, and here are the keys to your car. I left all the suits, and I’ll be happy to set up some kind of payment plan to reimburse you for everything I owe. I’ve made a shit-ton of cash lately, so—”

  “A shit-ton?” Her smile didn’t come close to reaching her gray eyes. “How much exactly is that?”

  “You know what I mean. Just tell me how much I owe, and we’ll call it even. Sorry things didn’t work out, but you know how it is.”

  “See . . .” With one hand on her hip, she drummed the fingers of her free hand against her clamped lips. “You’re wrong in that regard. I don’t know how it is. What I do know is that I own you. I bought you fair and square, and—”

  “Screw you.” I tossed the Bentley keys to a marble-topped sideboard, then headed for the door. “What I share with Carol is worth way more than this stupid-ass gig. I was going to repay you, but instead, I think I’ll just go to the cops and let them decide how to deal with you.”

  “Such bravado. I’m impressed.” Uma’s slow, steady round of applause echoed through the mausoleum’s vast entry. “Too bad for you that I keep plenty of our fair city’s finest on my payroll. What’s also a shame is that if you’d like to keep Ms. Moore’s hair long and complexion creamy, you’ll do exactly what I say, when I say. Go ahead, Nathan, tell her what she wants to hear—that you’ve moved back to your Sausalito shithole and that you’ve discovered your life’s calling is sacking groceries. But meanwhile, you will still work for me.”

  The guard had silently planted himself at the base of the stairs and now stood with a handgun at the ready.

  Trapped in a living nightmare, I clenched my fists so hard I grew light-headed.

  “She’s pretty, your Carol. I’d hate to have to scar those classically beautiful features— especially when she’s so close to finding her daughter. It would be a shame for her to finally meet her little girl, only to be so horribly disfigured that at their first luncheon, the poor child screams in terror. Of course, now that I think about it, I could just go after the kid—not me personally, I abhor violence, but some of my associates . . .” She shuddered.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Even as I muttered the words, the hot/cold/sick/clammy knot in my stomach told me not only would Uma dare harm anyone she pleased, but she wouldn’t think twice. Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .

  The gun-toting guard stepped closer.

  It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since I’d promised Carol I’d quit the escort business, and already I was breaking my word? Not cool.

  “Of course, I’m not a monster,” Uma said in a matter-of-fact tone as if she were discussing where to eat dinner. “After you’ve paid me in full—say, possibly in six months’ time, I’ll crunch numbers, and we’ll talk. Feel free to live wherever you choose, but I suggest you keep the car— my clientele aren’t exactly fond of taking the bus. Oh—and since you look like hell, Marcus,” she nodded to her goon, “will show you to a guest suite to freshen up.”

  Sure, I suppose I could have gone all commando on Uma’s scrawny ass, but what good would that have done when precisely two seconds after I even tried making a move against her, one of her goon squad would have popped a shot into my feeble-brained head? The true pisser about all of this was that from the start, Carol had warned against this whole escort thing, but I’d been too much of a numbnuts to listen.

  I showered and dressed in the boxers and undershirt someone had thoughtfully placed across the foot of the bed. I added the suit and starched white shirt and gray-on-gray paisley tie that had appeared on a valet stand while I’d been in the bathroom. On the floor rested polished shoes with socks tucked inside. I lacked the energy to dwell on the creep factor of this scene.

  Why hadn’t I done more homework on Uma before signing up for this gig? Hell, it had taken me longer to book a flight to San Francisco than it had to sell my soul to this blond devil.

  Should I find help? Call the cops? Maybe even ask Liam?

  Fuck no. I shook my head at that momentary judgment lapse. I’d figure something out, but never would I stoop low enough to call that asshole.

  Like a good little escort, I used the grooming products conveniently lining the vanity, then was good to go—until Carol texted:

  Are you free? Was Uma upset?

  Shit. I didn’t want to lie to Carol, but what else could I do? I mean, playing devil’s advocate, let’s say I brought her in on everything and Uma found out. Would she make good on her threat to harm Carol or her little girl? I should have been surprised by the fact that Uma even knew where to find the child, but I wasn’t. Uma struck me as a female Liam—only far more cutthroat. Just like he’d done everything within his power to fight for good when rescuing Ella, I suspected Uma would do the same in her quest to control me.

  I apologized in advance before texting:

  Everything’s good. Just leaving now to start another job.

  That wasn’t entirely false, right? Considering the fact that I hadn’t been shot, I was good. As soon as I finished with Mrs. Vincent, I’d launch my search for a new job. I didn’t have a clue how hiding this from Carol would work long-term, but for her safety, I had to figure it out.

  Good luck! Let me know if I can help. xoxo

  Thanks, baby.

  Internally, I added, I’m sorry.

  Brunch was uneventful.

  Mrs. Vincent was a charming flirt who had to be well into her seventies. Her golden curls sat a bit askew, her eyebrows had been drawn on a bit crooked, but her blinding diamond broach sat perfectly centered on her Chanel suit’s left lapel—yes, fashion recognition had been one of Uma’s early lessons.

  As soon as I helped Mrs. Vincent inside of her Palo Alto home, I returned to the city to find a new apartment and indoor parking for the Bentley. I had a few thousand saved up, so I scoured Craigslist, where I found a garage in Chinatown and a studio apartment over a nearby tailor shop. I’d preferred an earlier one I’d looked at, but it was over a dumpling shop, and I didn’t figure Uma would approve of me showing up for clients reeking of ginger and soy.

  The place was furnished, so once I hauled my duffel up the narrow flight of stairs, I was home. Not gonna lie—I missed my old king-sized bed and perpetually stocked fridge, but knowing my new lease had been signed on my terms came as a relief.

  I tossed my duffel on the lumpy sofa, then sat alongside it to hit up Craigslist for a job. Until I figured out how to escape Uma without Carol or her daughter getting hurt, I needed a front— something that made it plausible for me to be out of touch on nights and weekends.

  I emailed a few warehouses that had night stockman positions, and then answered an ad for a rent-a-cop security gig that offered on-the-job training. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. A month ago I’d been on top of my game, beyond excited about not just rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, but becoming one of them. Now? I just wanted to spend time with my girl without having to look over my shoulder.

  I took out my Great Ideas Wanted ad and ran my thumb over the fading ink.

  I knew the address by heart and had sent dozens of cool ideas, but I’d never gotten anything in return. It was no doubt a scam, a thought that only made me that much more resentful toward this world I found myself in. Was there any legal way for a nobody like me to succeed that didn’t involve years of training?


  Christ . . . I got up to take a piss, and tossed the ad in the bowl before flushing.

  Hadn’t this mess with Uma taught me anything?

  There was no magic carpet waiting to whisk me into Liam’s world.

  The fact that Carol was willing to even date my sorry ass was a miracle. I needed to count my blessings and swallow my pride. I still had my online classes, and if she didn’t mind being with a stock boy, then I guess I’d have to not mind being one.

  After a never-ending dinner with Mitsy, I stashed my car, dropped by my apartment to change, then hopped a bus to Carol’s neighborhood.

  Day One of my new double life and I fucking hated it.

  Carol’s doorman waved on my way to the elevator. I returned the favor. Wonder if he knew of any job openings in the building?

  I let myself into Carol’s apartment and found her asleep on the sofa. Manila folders surrounded her like fallen leaves. She was so beautiful, so blissfully unaware of the shit storm my bad decisions had gotten both of us into, that for a few moments I knelt alongside her, just staring.

  She must have sensed my presence, because after a few minutes she jolted awake. “Nathan. Geez, you scared me. When did you get here?”

  “A few minutes ago.” I tucked some flyaway hair behind her ear. “You look adorable.”

  “I no doubt look a hot mess, but thank you for pretending not to notice.”

  “Please don’t . . .” I kissed her forehead, then sat alongside her, drawing her onto my lap.

  “What?”

  “Ever think you’re less than total perfection.”

  “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

  “Babe, I mean it. You mean the world to me. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

  Her barely blue gaze narrowed. “What’s going on? You didn’t quit your escort job, did you?”