Taming the Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle

by Sierra Rose

  “No offense, Max. But I’m not into men.”

  He laughed. “Funny one, boss. But I get it now. Abby is playing the part of Ella.”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, you guys better get into character.”

  Nick wrapped his arm around me. “I’m crazy about this woman. She simply takes my breath away.”

  My pulse instantly skyrocketed, but fortunately, two years of professionalism kicked in just in time to save me. Choosing not to linger in the awkward moment any longer than I had to, I stepped forward with what I took to be a rather brave smile, and held out my hand.

  “Shall we head back to the party?”

  Max smothered another grin, while Nick looked at me in a way that told me he was still very much imagining me with my clothes off. A second later, he took my hand.

  “We shall.”

  Leaving the Italian bodyguard behind us, we headed back down the hall and out to the main ballroom—ignoring the whispers and stares of the entire stadium as we went.

  It was a strange building. One that was built to accommodate everything from concerts, to plays, to athletic performances. Mostly, it was simply equipped to handle a great number of people. And right now, it seemed as though every one of them was looking our way.

  “I don’t get it,” I murmured, gripping tighter onto Nick’s hand as we made our way into the ballroom. “How do you handle this, day after day?”

  “Handle what?”

  I snorted incredulously, as I glanced around the several hundred people in the room. All of whom seemed to be simultaneously glancing back at me.

  “This. How do you handle all this? It’s overwhelming...”

  With a little grin, he spun me suddenly around, pulling me into his chest as one hand wrapped around my lower back. I sucked in a gasp of surprise—relieved beyond words that my skyscraper heels hadn’t sabotaged me—and only then realized that we were on the dance floor.

  “How do I handle it?” Nick repeated, offering out his other hand with a smile. “I have a great publicist.”

  That was the last the two of us spoke for a long while. I placed my hand lightly in his, and together, the two of us began spinning across the marble floors in a slow waltz.

  It didn’t matter that we were only ones dancing—the second we started, the rest of the room was quick to join in. It didn’t matter that the orchestra was playing a bit fast for the leisurely speed we were moving—the second they saw us, they slowed the tempo down. It didn’t even seem to matter that I didn’t actually know how to waltz. Considering the way Nick was holding me, I might as well have been floating above the ground.

  “This is insane.” I giggled softly, glancing around at the couples dancing around us. They looked like paper dolls on parade—each more colorful and lovely than the next. “I was worried about just staying on my feet, but I think you’re starting an entire craze. Taking the city back to sometime in the seventeen hundreds.”

  Nick chuckled, squeezing my hand tighter in his own.

  “The seventeen hundreds was a good time. I would have liked the seventeen hundreds.”

  “I bet you would have,” I scoffed sarcastically, as a thousand different Casanova scenarios flashed through my head. Did they have publicists in the seventeen hundreds? That man would have needed one for sure. “If you were rich—that is. The seventeen hundreds weren’t so great for the rest of the world.”

  “That’s true.” Nick gazed out over the heads of the crowd, his eyes glassing over as he imagined it. “And I don’t know what you mean about ‘staying on your feet,’” he murmured as he released my hand, then spun me back into him, “you’re a wonderful dancer.”

  “In a club, maybe.” I tossed back my curls and flashed him a smile. “But not all of us had ballroom dance lessons when we were a child.”

  “Come on—this isn’t so bad.”

  “You’re not the one doing it in heels!”

  “Abby, you should know that I’m the one taking all the risk here.” He glanced down at our feet with a grin. “If you step on me even once in those things, I’m bound to lose a toe.”

  We both laughed, as I made a conscious effort to pay more attention to where I was stepping. But I somehow knew that no matter what I did, Nick would never let it happen.

  He would never let anything bad happen. Somehow. Impossible as it might seem.

  From the second I’d stepped into his arms, an overwhelming feeling of security had washed over me. A feeling I had never felt before. I feeling I didn’t think existed in real life.

  Leave it to me to ruin all that.

  “So, um...about what just happened—”

  Before I could say another word, Nick spun me around—twirling me out onto the floor before pulling me back to the safety of his arms. The second I landed, he looked down at me with a sudden grin—a grin that completely dissipated all the tension in the air between us.

  “I told you it would be work related.”

  “Work related?” I gasped breathlessly, unable to decide whether to laugh or rip out my hair in frustration. I’d settle for the room to stop spinning. “You call that work related?”

  “I certainly do.” He laced his fingers innocently through mine, pulling me extra close under the guise of making room for another couple. “You are posing as my girlfriend, are you not? Well...that’s the way I like to touch my girlfriends.”

  For a second, I just stared up at him—bowled over by the sheer audacity of such a statement. Then he flashed me a little wink.

  “As long as they agree to dance with me afterwards...”

  I was still laughing as the song came to an end. As the couples drifted apart in a rousing wave of applause. As Nick bent down to give me a soft kiss on the cheek.

  Then, before I knew what was happening, a dozen ushers appeared from out of nowhere and began politely herding people to the sides of the room. A team of men came out shortly after with a roll of mats and rope, and a minute later, a microphone descended slowly from the ceiling.

  “What is this?” I asked Nick quietly. It was easy to have a private conversation amidst the noise and growing anticipation of the crowd. “What’s happening?”

  “You’ll see.”

  His eyes glowed excitedly as he gazed out toward the mats, but he refused to give away the secret. I was about to press, but just a moment later, a tuxedoed announcer did it for him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for...”

  A drumroll accentuated his every word, creating a huge windup for the big finale.

  “Allow me to present, for the first time in history, heavyweight champion Frankie McConnell versus Orlando Forester!”

  It took me a second to understand, then two enormous men walked out from separate corners and knocked hands together in the center of the ring.

  “...boxing?”

  I turned to Nick in genuine surprise. Organized fighting wasn’t really his thing. Nor could I imagine it held much interest for the rest of the people in the room. High society tended not to involve themselves with activities that involved mouth guards and profuse amounts of sweat. They tended to stick to things like polo and the opera instead.

  “You wanted to take me...to a boxing game?”

  Nick pursed his lips, stifling a smile.

  “A match, Abby. It’s a boxing match.”

  I’m sorry, I never saw Cinderella Man...

  And no,” he stuck his hands in his pockets, gazing out toward where the two men had started circling each other in the ring, “I don’t give a shit about boxing.”

  “Well then—”

  Nick spun me to face him, putting his hands on my shoulders.

  “These two men are champions who have never fought each other before,” he said in a low voice. “That means that while it might not necessarily be interesting, it is rare. And in my world, rare means exclusive.”

  His eyes flickered out over the room, at the crowd of people sparkling like little dolle
d up mannequins before him.

  “Tickets for tonight were twenty thousand dollars each. But you don’t come for the match. You come to get drunk, and get seen. And that, my dear, is why we’re here.”

  No sooner had he finished talking, then the Mayor of New York tapped him on the shoulder. He spun gracefully around, lacing his arm through mine to pull me with him.

  “George,” they shook hands warmly, smiling like old friends, “good to see you.”

  George. Of course he called the mayor by his first name.

  “And you, Nick! You know my wife, Evelyn.”

  “Of course.” Nick released me temporarily to kiss the woman on both cheeks. “How’s the redecorating coming along? Did you give Bernardo a call like I told you?”

  The woman tilted back her head with a tinkling laugh.

  “Oh bless your heart—you remembered!”

  “Evelyn is in the process of converting her back parlor into what can best be described as a prohibition-style speakeasy,” Nick whispered conspiratorially into my ear. “Not easy to get all the necessary permits for that. Trust me—I’ve tried.”

  She laughed again, patting George indulgently on the chest.

  “Well it helps when you’ve got some political connections.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “But never mind about me,” she abandoned the men completely, and stepped forward to take my hand, “who is this beautiful creature?”

  I blushed as pink as her dress, trying to keep myself together.

  “This is Abigail Wilder,” Nick answered, pushing me casually forward. “The woman I’ve been seeing.”

  The two of us shook hands in that overly-effusive way women do when one is trying to set the other at ease. Then she turned back to Nick with a glowing smile.

  “I hate to say it Nick, but she’s too pretty. Even for you.”

  He flashed her a grin, before slipping his arm around my waist.

  “Oh—I’m well aware.”

  “And so much nicer than all those trashy girls you’re usually with!” Evelyn continued, completely oblivious to the pained look that flashed across Nick’s face. “Honestly, I think she’s the only one who hasn’t tried to grab my husband to take a selfie!”

  As Nick died a million deaths, the mayor chuckled softly and stepped forward to take my hand. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. Whenever there’s a development in Nick’s love life, she feels the need to share her uncensored opinion. No matter how inappropriate that might be.”

  His wife lifted her hands apologetically, as he gave me a thoughtful frown.

  “Abigail Wilder,” he repeated, trying to place the name in memory. “I think I’ve heard of a publicist by that name. Is there any relation?”

  I was about to instinctively deny it, but my darling boyfriend quickly intervened.

  “They’re one in the same. Abby was my publicist. Still runs a firm uptown.”

  My heart skipped a beat, and I flashed Nick a quick look. I was surprised he was being so open about it. I would have thought he’d want to keep that piece of information to himself. Try to pass me off as some kind of heiress who was only working for the experience. Who didn’t really need the money, but was charmed by the novelty of the whole thing.

  But Nick was staring at me with a peculiar little smile. One that I’d never seen before. He flashed me a wink when he saw me staring, then squeezed me closer with that same little grin. It was then that I realized something I would have never thought was possible.

  He was proud to be seen with me. In this room full of congressmen, actresses, and kings—he felt as though I was the asset. I was the prize.

  At a second glance, his smile looked adorably smug.

  I dropped my eyes, blinking incredulously at the floor, while both the mayor and his wife exchanged a knowing smile. They’d seen Nick with women before. But never quite like this.

  “Well the two of you make a lovely couple,” Evelyn murmured, giving my hand an extra squeeze as they made their goodbyes. “We’ll have to have you over to the estate sometime.”

  “That would be wonderful,” I answered shyly. It was the first sentence I had managed since the two of them walked over. “It was such a pleasure meeting you both.”

  “Likewise,” the mayor clapped Nick on the shoulder with a conspiratorial wink, “you did good, kid. We’ll see you soon.”

  “Take care, George.”

  They left to make the rounds and Nick turned his eyes back to the fight, but I was still frozen in place. I knew Nick saw me staring at him, but he refused to make eye contact until I actually stomped down upon his foot.

  “Ow—shit! What did I tell you about breaking my toes?”

  I said nothing. Merely folded my arms across my chest and waited. It only took a second for him to crack. The tops of his cheekbones flushed pink, and he shifted self-consciously.

  “Those two have always been a little over-enthusiastic. Blame it on winning the election by eighty-seven percent. Feel free to ignore everything they said. Especially Evelyn.”

  I rolled my eyes with a grin.

  “You think I don’t know every person on your long list of conquests? I’m your publicist, remember? I probably know them better than you.”

  Nick squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Then why are you looking at me like—”

  “You told them I worked in public relations?” Even as I said the words, I still couldn’t believe they were true. “You told them I had a firm uptown? Why would you do that?”

  He blinked down in surprise, before his lips twisted up in an incredulous smile.

  “Abby, you realize that of all the people in this room, some of the most powerful people in the world, you’re the only one who’s discovered how to make an honest living?”

  I glanced around, trying to absorb the rather massive implication of that remark.

  “No...” I began doubtfully.

  “Yes.”

  I blinked again, taking stock.

  “That’s the First Minister of Wales, that’s the Chairman of the FCC...”

  His lips turned up with a smirk. “That’s what I’m saying...”

  THE REST OF THE NIGHT passed in a similar fashion. Nick hadn’t been kidding when he said that the rich and famous didn’t gather to watch the fight—they gathered to watch each other. It was the perfect opportunity for the two of us to be seen and photographed by all the right people, but in a relaxed setting—one with plenty of movement, and alcohol, and ambient sound.

  Considering the way I’d seized up when confronted by the paparazzi out on the tarmac, it was the perfect remedy.

  I danced, and drank, and shook hands, and charmed all the right people. Smiling so hard, that by the end of the night, my cheeks ached from holding the pose.

  Never once did Nick leave my side. Never once did he let go of my hand. It was as if the two of us were connected by some kind of invisible tether. One that kept us just close enough that we were never out of the other’s sight.

  Still, I couldn’t have been more relieved when the whole thing came to an end.

  “Well that...was exhausting.”

  I slumped against Nick’s shoulder, holding onto what had to be my tenth flute of champagne. He shifted around slightly, so his arm came down over my shoulder.

  “It’s the smiling, isn’t it? It hurts your cheeks.”

  “Yes!” I exclaimed, staring at him in drunken alarm. “How did you know?”

  He grinned and shook his head, taking another sip from his glass. “You forget, I’ve been doing this for a very long time...”

  The fight was over and the ballroom had emptied. Even the caterers had packed up and gone home. The only people left were the occasional janitors—who would skitter in to begin their cleaning, then skitter back out when they saw the two people left in the room.

  Nick and I were perched upon one of the abandoned tables. Shoes off. Drinks in our hands. Gazing sleepily at the deserted boxing ring.

  I
never did find out who’d won the match. When I’d asked him—Nick didn’t know either. He’d just told me, ‘it was the one with the gloves,’ and left it at that.

  For that matter...I didn’t even know why we were the only ones left.

  “Why are we still here?” I asked suddenly.

  I’d been to enough parties in Nick’s entourage to know that he was never the last one to leave. Quite the contrary, he tended to swoop in, sample the best there was to offer, and then swoop back out—off to his next event. Usually with a different girl draped over his arm.

  “I had to stay to the end this time.” He stifled a yawn, downing the rest of his champagne in a single gulp. “I was hosting the event.”

  “You were hosting?” I repeated in surprise.

  It was a testament to how well my team was running things back at the office, that I didn’t know that already. It was also a testament to how thoroughly Nick had been looking forward to showing me off—that he would offer to sponsor an event of this magnitude.

  Then something else clicked into place.

  “Wait minute...” I repeated with a frown. “You were hosting the event, and the thing kicked off with you and a girl locked in the coat room?”

  Nick paused, considering. Then dismissed it with a simple shrug.

  “I like to start things out with a bang.”

  The two of us fell silent. I shot him a look. He pursed his lips.

  “...no pun intended.”

  “And that is enough alcohol for you,” I giggled, taking the empty flute from his hand and setting it on the floor.

  But I was hardly in better shape myself. I almost tipped over just reaching toward the ground. He reached out quickly and caught me with a quiet chuckle.

  “You know, I never realized it before...but you’re a klutz, Abby.”

  What?! Absurd!

  “A klutz?!” I repeated incredulously. “I am not!”

  “You are,” he was openly laughing now, “you totally are! How could I not have seen it?”

  I put my hands on my hips, bristling defensively. “If I’m such a klutz, then how was I able to dance all over this ballroom in those enormous heels?”

  He didn’t miss a beat.