Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  All day, I’d been half-imagining coming home to find her naked, or even half-naked on the couch, eagerly waiting for me to return. As desperate for me as I was for her.

  Instead, she was wearing a pair of yoga pants and a too-big zipped-up sweatshirt that slipped down on one shoulder. She looked adorable, like she was settling in for a night. Alone.

  That was what pissed me off. She was settling in for a night alone and all I’d been thinking about was us spending the night together.

  As I stood there, the top slid further down her shoulder and the skin bared made my mouth water. My hands itched and I almost reached up to tug it back into place.

  I didn’t though.

  The pale, faded green looked like it had been through many washings and she caught the material, pulled it bag into place absently, the gesture one of long habit. I wondered if it had always been hers or if she’d gotten it from some guy. A guy she wanted to remember...

  “Is everything okay?” She glanced at my food and then up to me. “Is there something wrong with your dinner?”

  “Um…” I frowned and then shrugged. “No, it’s good. Did you get any?”

  “Me? Oh. No. That was for you. I ordered Chinese in a while ago.” A smile danced across her lips. “Kung Pao chicken.”

  The sweatshirt slid down again, tempting me.

  I wanted to grab it and yank it off. Pull down that zipper until I could see what I suspected from her bare shoulder; that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath.

  I wanted her naked.

  I wanted her naked and downstairs and clearly thinking about the hours that had transpired between us and not about damn Kung Pao anything.

  She looked…bored.

  She didn’t look at all like she’d been thinking about anything that had happened between us. Like it hadn’t been haunting her every thought all day, making work nearly impossible.

  That pissed me off, but I refused to let it show. I couldn’t let her know how much I needed her, not when it was clear I wasn’t affecting her the same way. I cut into another bite of chicken, staring at her as I slid the fork into my mouth. I took my time chewing, watching her the entire time, trying to decide what to do next.

  She didn’t squirm. A few weeks ago, maybe even just a few days ago, she would have squirmed, been uncomfortable by the way I stared at her and by the drawn-out silence.

  But not now.

  She just stood there and waited.

  “How did the meeting with Annette go?” I knew Annette would never have treated Aleena poorly, but I was curious as to how the two of them had gotten along. Next to Fawna, Annette was one of the few women I didn’t always feel the need to keep up my guard.

  “Oh, fine.” Aleena shrugged, glancing back at the muted TV, as though her brain was already back on whatever program she wasn’t watching. “She seems eager to get to work. She said she wants to do the house in the Hamptons too if it’s all right with you. We’d need to go out there. If you can spare me any this week, I’ll contact her and let her know when it will work.”

  I waited.

  She looked back at the TV. Then back at me, her face still calm.

  “Okay.”

  She smiled. “Okay, then.” She looked at the plate. “I’ll be sure to let Francisco know you enjoyed the meal.”

  “Ah, yeah. Please do.” I looked down, realized I’d eaten almost seventy-five percent of it and for all I knew, it had been pure cyanide. “It was fine.”

  “Great.” She smiled at me. A perfectly nice smile. “I’ll let you get back to your evening then.”

  She patted me on the shoulder and without really understanding how she did it, she managed to nudge me from the doorway and back into the hall. She closed the door and I stood there for a full minute, holding my plate and staring.

  I almost drove my fist into the door, almost demanded she open up and let me in. I had a key if she’d locked it. I could just go inside, insist that she come with me, tell her that it was an order...

  No.

  I couldn’t do that.

  What I couldn’t figure out was just how in the fuck had I ended up on the outside of her door when I’d planned on having her downstairs, tied up to the bed, begging for my cock?

  * * *

  Relationships.

  I lay on my bed two hours later, staring out through the window and trying to figure out what had happened. And trying to ignore the part of my body that was highly annoyed that things hadn’t gone the way I’d planned.

  Something had to have happened, but I couldn’t figure it out and it was pissing me off.

  The longer it eluded me, the more frustrated I became and finally, I kicked my legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed my phone. I had to search through my contacts before I found Annette’s number, but finally, I dug it up and put in a call to her.

  I got her voicemail.

  No, I didn’t want to leave a message.

  Pissed off was turning into angry.

  I called Fawna next. I knew her number by heart and she huffed out a faint breath when I told her what I wanted. “Aleena has that information, you know, Dominic,” she told me. In the background, I heard the fussy cry of a baby and I reached up, pinching the bridge of my nose, instantly feeling guilty.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t wake him up, did I?”

  She gave a tired laugh. “No. That would imply he’d been sleeping and he hasn’t been doing much of that.”

  The ragged edge of the nerves in her voice would have gone unnoticed to someone else. But I wasn’t someone else. Fawna was more my family than the parents who’d adopted me. “What’s wrong? Eli’s not sick, is he?” I lowered my hand, concern growing inside me. Concern and self-loathing. Here I was, moping over Aleena, and Fawna was dealing with a sick baby.

  “No.” She sighed and this time, when the baby made a noise, it was a weaker, soft sort of snuffle. “He’s not sick. He’s just not doing well on his formula. I took him to the doctor today and we’ve got to start him on one for babies with sensitive stomachs. They told me to expect it, what with the drugs his mom had done and all the other health problems. I’d just hoped...” Her voice trailed off and then after a moment, she said, “The pediatrician gave me a recommendation for a new formula. I’ve got a few samples of it and he’s already calmer. I’ll give it a few days just to be sure before I buy any though. No use wasting money.” Her tone shifted into business mode. “Now…give me a minute. I’ll find Annette’s number and you’ll tell me why Aleena can’t give you the information.”

  I grimaced and dropped back on the bed.

  I should have just left it alone. I knew I didn’t have a choice now though. Fawna wasn’t going to leave it be.

  A few minutes later, I had the number and I’d explained, sort of, to Fawna what had happened with Aleena.

  “Has it occurred to you that maybe she just wanted a night alone?”

  Scowling, I stared out the window at the night-darkened sky of New York City. Well, it was possible. But…I shook my head. Then, remembering Fawna couldn’t see me, I said, “Something was just off. I can’t think of what it was, but there was this distance between us.”

  “So why didn’t you ask her?”

  “What in the hell am I supposed to say?” I demanded.

  “How about you ask her what’s wrong?” Fawna suggested, an exasperated sound to her words that I recognized well from when she’d been my teacher rather than my assistant.

  When I didn’t respond, she cursed under her breath. Rubbing my neck, I closed my eyes. I was really starting to regret having called her.

  “Dominic, you’re a grown man and you’re in a serious relationship—”

  “No, I’m not.”

  I cut her off, the panic in my voice coming through loud and clear to both of us. My heart gave a nervous thud. There was silence for several seconds and I was suddenly having a hard time breathing.

  “Aren’t you?” Fawna finally asked.

  Fuck. I squeeze
d my eyes closed.

  “Dammit, Dominic!” she half-shouted through the phone. I had a feeling if Eli hadn’t been there, she would’ve been louder.

  I held it away from my ear as I turned away from the window. “Look, Fawna…”

  “No. You look.” Her voice was sharp, that no-nonsense voice that had given her command of the rowdiest students in the school. “You’re a grown man, dammit. I realize that what happened messed you up. I know that. I understand and I’m sorry for it. But that doesn’t mean you get to keep using it as an excuse. You’re involved with Aleena. For fuck’s sake, you’re sleeping with her! Now, are you or are you not serious?”

  I closed my eyes. “I…I don’t know, Fawna. I don’t...” I passed the back of my hand over my mouth. “I don’t know if I’m even ready to think about that.”

  “Maybe you should have considered that when you told me she was good for you.” Fawna’s voice was waspish and I knew it wasn’t just lack of sleep. “Or did you mean she was good for your dick?”

  She hung up.

  It took me a few seconds to realize what she’d done and in a dull, dazed shock, I lowered the phone and stared at it.

  She actually hung up on me.

  I should be mad.

  I might be later, but just then, I was too busy realizing something.

  Fawna was right.

  I’d only been thinking about one specific thing—or rather, one specific area—when it came to Aleena. We were good sexually. Scowling, I thought about all the clients I had coming and going through Trouver L’Amour. I didn’t have much to do with any of them, not once I got them through the door. That was the matchmaker’s job, not mine. I poured funds into the place and yeah, I’d been roped into working with Penelope, but the truth was, I was quietly talking to one of the top-level matchmakers I’d hired away from another company to take her off my hands.

  There was a skill to this, an art almost. It was fun, in a way, I had to admit, seeing some of the people I knew get matched up, but I didn’t believe in it. Not for myself. Even now. Not even with a woman like Aleena who made my brain go a little fuzzy and my heart rev up and race. We could have a relationship, but it couldn’t be one with a real future.

  Happy ever after was fine for others. Just not for me.

  Still…I had to make myself admit something painful. Sooner or later, Aleena would want that. And she deserved it. I just didn’t know if it meant I would have to give her up.

  Or if I could.

  Chapter Four

  Aleena

  “Girl, I gotta tell you, that look on your face? It’s not the look of a woman who is well satisfied with her man.”

  I stared stupidly at Molly over the top of my menu. “My man?”

  Molly stabbed a fork in my direction. “I knew it! Trouble in paradise!”

  “What? No!” I brushed it off and flipped through the menu. I didn’t want to talk about work or about Dominic. “I think I’m just going to get a Cubano and some sangria. What are you getting?”

  “Some pliers and a dentist’s drill, so I can get a straight answer out of you, no matter what it takes.” Molly pulled the menu out of my hand and snapped it down on the surface of the table. Then she leaned forward. “Come on, Aleena. What gives?”

  I absently picked up the little plastic encased menu with the specials. Being purposely evasive, I said, “Nothing. Why you asking?”

  “Because, one, you won’t look at me and, two, you’re drinking in the middle of the day. Dead giveaway.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “Now, come on. I’ve a class in two hours.”

  “How is school going?” I latched onto a new topic with desperation. Molly had decided she wanted to go back to school recently and, normally, that was one thing guaranteed to distract her.

  Not this time.

  “Now, Aleena,” she said ominously and leaned forward.

  I sighed. I knew that look. I doubted she’d even be swayed if some hot stranger walked by, and that was saying something. So, I started to talk, feeling more and more like an idiot as I laid it out. I had to stop barely two minutes in as the server came by and took our orders. This was definitely not something I wanted anyone else to hear. I took the moment to enjoy the warmer air coming in through the windows. They were only open a bit, but it was enough to feel the promise of spring. I was so ready for it. Of course, I’d already lived through my first New York summer and I knew, in no time, I’d be ready for cooler temperatures again.

  After the server left, I looked back at Molly.

  “I’m starting to feel…out of place,” I finally said.

  “You don’t even know if he has, or even had, anything going with this Annette woman.” Molly caught my hand and squeezed it. “It sounds to me like he’s pretty into you. And Penelope…” she made a face “…forget her. She’s clearly on a power trip.” Her eyes widened. “Shit, please tell me she’s not that Penelope Rittenour—”

  I shot her a look.

  Molly’s eyes widened even more. “Oh, shit. She is, isn’t she?”

  “How do you…?”

  Molly grimaced. Then she dug into her purse, pulling out her phone. “Gimme a second.”

  A minute later, she handed me her phone. It had an article from ECHELON pulled up. It was one of the local New York society mags. One all about the rich, the powerful, and of course, the beautiful. I knew the name because I’d seen the interview he’d done for them when Trouver L’Amour had opened. I’d gotten the feeling he’d been annoyed by the whole ordeal and had only done it because he needed the promotion.

  And now, Penelope Rittenour was on the front of the magazine.

  The headline read: Inside the Rittenour Experience

  I stared at it for a long moment and then looked at Molly. “Inside the Rittenour Experience?” I repeated it back to her.

  Molly gazed back at me, her expression unreadable.

  I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. After a moment, I had it under control. “Okay, just what is the Rittenour experience? The life of a rich, privileged white chick?”

  “Pretty much.” Molly grinned at me.

  The server appeared with our drinks and I was surprised to realize less than ten minutes had passed since I started detailing how crappy I’d been feeling over my so-called relationship with Dominic. The server gave us a basket of tortilla chips and salsa, and then lingered to smile at Molly. She smiled back, of course, but it was a distracted smile. She was clearly more focused on me and the Rittenour experience.

  “You should read it.” She scooped up some salsa with one hand and gestured with the other. “It’s…riveting. She talks about the beleaguered life she’s lived, being the only Rittenour left to carry on the family name and the weight of sustaining a life of social privilege and how hard it is to maintain grace and class in such a classless society. How nobody appreciates art and beauty anymore. She has a master’s in fine arts and excelled in literature, yet when she attempted to publish a book about her family’s legacy, there was no interest in it.” Molly managed to deliver all of this with a downtrodden air and then she winked at me. “People would rather read about Snookie or sex or scandals instead of those who strive to better the lives of the rest of us poor folk.”

  I clicked on the image and skimmed through the article, sipping from my sangria. “Poor thing,” I murmured and passed the phone back to Molly before I dripped sarcasm on it.

  “Please tell me you’re not feeling outclassed by her.”

  I made a face. “No. She’s an uptight bitch. And, FYI, she probably feels everything that’s written in that article is one hundred percent true and that’s she’s been seriously put upon. The publishing world should have wept tears of joy when she gave them her masterpiece.”

  I snorted and took a healthy swig of my sangria then put it down. Brooding into its ruby red contents, I shrugged. “She isn’t the problem. I’ve seen the way Dominic looks when I tell him he has a call from her. I don’t like her, and it’s clear
he’s not interested in her.”

  “If that’s the kind of woman he wanted around him, I doubt you’d be able to stand working for him anyway. I was annoyed just reading it.”

  “How did you come across it?” Puzzled, I flicked a look up at her.

  Molly snorted and sipped at her water. “Assignment for my Introduction to Sociology class. We were told to find examples of privilege in New York.” She grimaced. “We’re acting them out. We can’t use names or anything, of course. I’m using her. She’s kinda priceless.”

  I had another word for Penelope, but I decided not to name it.

  “It’s not her. It’s the other woman then. The interior decorator.” Molly leaned back as the server arrived to put our dishes down in front of us. We lapsed into silence until she was gone.

  “It’s not…” Then I groaned. No point in lying.

  “It is.” She pointed at me with her fork before digging in. “She makes you feel nervous. You feel like she’s the kind of woman Dominic would be into, huh?”

  Self-conscious now, I shrugged and focused on the food in front of me. “She’s gorgeous, Mol. She’s confident and friendly and she knows more about his world than I do.”

  “Does Dominic seem to think you have to know about his world?”

  I delayed my answer by taking a drink of my sangria. Then I looked up at her. “I don’t know. There are times…” I cleared my throat. “There are times when I know he’s covering or helping me out. He wouldn’t have to do it with her. Everybody in his world is rich.” I laughed bitterly. “And most of them are white. The few that aren’t? They’re from some distinguished black families that can trace their ancestry back to people like Booker T. Washington. They’re not some poor mixed girl from the mid-west.”

  “That doesn’t mean shit.”

  “It does to some.”

  Molly leaned forward, glaring at me. “It doesn’t mean shit,” she repeated. “If they care, it says more about them than it does about you. You can’t let their prejudices bring you down, Aleena.”