Bad for the Billionaires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle Read online

“Charming,” says Alec dryly.

  She shoots him a look full of daggers. “If I want to drug someone and steal their clothes to help my friend, I will.”

  Alec seems to already know better than to make a point of arguing with Melina, because he takes her by the arm and motions toward the front entrance. “Shall we?”

  I follow beside Melina, giving myself an endless inner pep-talk about how it doesn’t matter if people are looking at me like I’m an attention-seeker. I’ll probably never see them again anyway, so who cares what they think. Right?

  Once we’re inside, I’m distracted by the scale of the house. Two winding staircases lead to an upper level that overlooks the grand entrance. Men and women are already mingling upstairs, while even more are moving through the huge space downstairs. Waiters and waitresses circulate the room with platters of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. A deep, pulsing music plays throughout the room from unseen speakers, and in a few spaces I see women dancing against men and even a pair who are making out at the far end of what might be the living room.

  I take in a sharp breath, feeling even more out of place than I did when I realized I got the dress code wrong. “What do I do?” I ask Melina.

  “Mingle!” She says cheerily. “You’ve got a mask on, girl. Reinvent yourself for the night. Go wild. No consequences. Just enjoy it.”

  And like a true friend, Melina strolls off with Alec, leaving me cluelessly looking around the room. It’s not long before a tall man with narrow shoulders and a cleft chin approaches me. “Beautiful,” he says.

  I smile self-consciously, tucking a hair behind my ear. I can’t see much of him except that he has short, somewhat curly hair and nice teeth. “Thank you, I--”

  “Leave,” says a man with a simple black mask and tailored suit, who is a few inches taller and much broader in the shoulders than the man I was talking to.

  It looks like there’s about to be an altercation, but the first man backs away with a sour expression when he sees how much bigger the other man is.

  I look up at the stranger, feeling the oddest tingle of recognition, but I can’t place it. “That was rude,” I say.

  I realize his chest is heaving with heavy breaths. He breathes deeply through his nose before he speaks. “Come with me.”

  “I probably shouldn’t--I’m here with a friend. She’ll be--”

  “I won’t ask again,” he says.

  Something in his tone stops me short. I swallow hard, feeling the familiarity grow even more now. No man has talked to me like this before, except once... Even though my brain is telling me to leave, to just walk outside and never look back, my body moves to follow him.

  He takes me past the main section of the party, back through hallways that grow less and less crowded with every step we take. We eventually reach a thick wooden door at the bottom of a short staircase. He turns the knob and opens the door to reveal a completely separate party area, except everyone here wears red. Even the walls are a deep, blood red with dark wood paneling. The music is slower, but with a more pulsating beat that feels sensual and mysterious.

  I nearly fall backwards when a woman passes us wearing nothing but a red thong and mask. Her impressive breasts bounce with each step, and she takes her time slowing in front of my mysterious stranger, pouting a little when he doesn’t seem to return her interest.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  He turns suddenly, pressing me to the wall with a firm hand so I’m forced to look into his startling blue eyes. “If you trust me, I’ll open up a world you’ve never known, a hunger you didn’t know you had.”

  I open my mouth to speak but can’t seem to find words that make sense. “Why should I trust you? I don’t even know you.” Or do I? Every second I spend in his presence makes the strange feeling of recognition grow stronger and stronger until I feel like realization is on the tip of my tongue.

  “You could leave, but then you’d wonder what you walked away from,” he says smoothly.

  It’s impossible not to feel drunk on the air in this place, like the throbbing beat is pushing its way into my lungs and making my pulse match the slow rhythm, like I can’t breathe anything but his enticing scent, which is also oddly familiar.

  “Do I know you?” I ask again.

  “I could tell you, but that would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?”

  “I don’t know if fun is the word I’d--” I yelp as he sweeps me away from the wall by my waist, gripping me and parading me through the crowded space like I’m his property.

  Melina’s words echo in my mind, reminding me to just let go, to enjoy this. Nothing bad is going to happen to me with so many people around. Probably. I follow him deeper into the room as we wind through an impossibly large space full of candlelit alcoves, dark rooms lit by black lights where half-naked men and women gyrate, and past what even looks like a full-blown torture chamber.

  He finally opens a door at the end of a dimly lit hallway with an old-fashioned brass key. Inside, the music is nothing but a dull thumping I can only hear if I strain. The relative quiet is shocking--unnerving, even.

  He reaches up to remove his mask. It feels like an ice-cold fist clutches my heart, squeezing until my arms and legs are tingling.

  Damian.

  “No,” I say. “No. No fucking way,” I turn to the door, trying to pull it open.

  He plants a hand on the door, keeping it shut. “Kylie,” he says softly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to find you.”

  “Yeah? You look like you’re trying real hard while you were playing dress-up here.”

  His jaw flexes. “Kylie… I need you to hear me out. If you still want to leave once I’ve said what I need to say, you can.”

  “I can leave now if I want to,” I growl stupidly, yanking on the door but I can’t even make it budge.

  “I know Faleena talked to you on the plane that day. She was lying. Everything she said was bullshit.”

  I shake my head, laughing humorlessly. “That’s convenient, because it seemed like your hot little flight attendant recognized her well enough. But you’re telling me she was lying about being your girlfriend?”

  His knuckles turn white as he presses harder into the door, eyes blazing with anger. “I dated her once. But I cut things off with her months before she talked to you. She was jealous of you. She said anything she could to get you to leave.”

  My eyes well with tears, and I don’t know if it’s from anger, sadness, embarrassment, or maybe some combination of the three. “Can I go now?”

  He hesitates a long time, watching me with eyes that don’t look cold or disinterested. They look as possessive and hungry as the last time I saw him. I’m worried if I stand here too long I’ll fall under his spell again, that I’ll believe this mountain of a man really wants me--cares for me, even.

  “For now,” he says. “But if you think you’re coming here was a coincidence, you’re mistaken. We’ll talk again, Kylie. Soon.”

  6

  Damian

  After finding Kylie at the party last night, I still feel a rush of constant adrenaline, like I’m alive for the first time in three years. I found her. I finally fucking found her.

  Every day I spent apart from her made me want her that much more until my need for her became an all-consuming obsession. Faleena stole three years I could’ve had with Kylie from me, and I’ll never forgive her for that, but at least now I can start making up for lost time.

  I’ve hired private investigators, done my own research, and I’ve even wasted hours wandering the airport where we first met, just hoping I’d have a chance to see her again and explain the truth to her, and for a chance to get her back. Fuck, I’ve practically had to become a stalker, but I don’t regret any of it.

  I got the lead last month when she took a job in San Francisco. I already owned a few pieces of property out here, so relocating was as simple as making a few phone calls to have my properties made ready. I’ve worked through acquaintances to invite her to a
t least five parties before this one, all of which were thrown just to get her to show up. Last night was the one that finally worked.

  Maybe I could’ve just shown up at the office where she works, but I wanted a chance for her to remember why we were so right for each other. I wanted to bring her to one of my dungeons, where I could give her the kind of orgasms she deserves. But my little kitten is going to play hard to get, apparently.

  I knew Kylie would probably be pissed at me, but I have to admit, I thought last night was going to end very differently. I hoped time would have cooled her anger and she could’ve heard reason, but it seems like while I’ve spent every day craving her more, she has been fueling the fans of misplaced anger.

  It’s not entirely bad, though. I have always enjoyed the hunt, and the idea of hunting for something I want as badly as her already has my cock hard. I haven’t been with a woman since I had a taste of Kylie three years ago, and I’m so ready to have my hands on her and my cock buried deep in her tight pussy again that it’s all I can do to wait.

  So I don’t.

  The place she works is one of those depressing, glass boxes that house multiple businesses. I was planning to run by my office later, so I’m still wearing my suit, which draws attention as I step inside what appears to be a business casual kind of place. After a little asking around, I’m told the data entry center is on the third floor. The elevator opens up to a wide floor plan full of cubicles not quite high enough to hide the eyes of the men and women sitting at their computers, clacking away on keyboards with bored expressions.

  One by one, pairs of eyes dart up to follow me as I move through the space, searching for Kylie. I don’t make it far before a scrawny little man in a puke-yellow button-down stops me. He rakes a hand through his thinning hair and plants his hands on hips that are a little too prominent to belong to a man. “Can I help you?” he asks.

  “Yeah. You could move so I don’t have to pick you out of my shoes later.”

  His face pales a little, but to his credit he straightens his back, clearly used to being the top dog around this depressing place. “Right. I’m just going to have you stay right here while I call security.”

  “Do what you need to do,” I say, pushing past him to continue my search.

  “Hey!” He calls after me.

  Everyone stops working now to watch with curious eyes over the tops of their cubicles.

  A woman I don’t recognize hops up and comes to stand beside me. She’s a little taller than average with dirty blonde hair and a long, willowy neck. Pretty, but I can already see from the way she carries herself she’s not my type. Hell, I haven’t seen any woman was my type since I met Kylie. I guess my type is Kylie.

  “Steve, look at him,” she says, eying me appreciatively. “You can’t just throw a man like this out to the curb.”

  “Amen,” yells a woman from somewhere across the room, which is met with a few chuckles.

  I ignore all of them, craning my neck to look through the cubicles. I see the back of a head, which catches my attention in the room full of people who are half-standing at their desks to stare my way.

  “Kylie?” I ask.

  The person with their back to me twitches. It’s her. I’d recognize her dark, curly hair anywhere.

  “Kylie,” I say again more firmly. I have to push past the woman who confronted the manager and the little man who is trying to forcibly shove me back toward the exit now. I sweep my arm in front of me, knocking him aside so that he stumbles into a cubicle wall, eyes bulging with rage.

  “If you don’t--” he starts

  “Back the fuck off,” I growl, turning slowly to face him. “Go call security if you want, but if you come near me again I’ll be happy to knock your tiny ass out.”

  Kylie is hastily shoving things into her handbag. She shoulders it and tries to hurry from her cubicle. I reach out, taking her by the arm.

  Everyone still watches us, but I don’t care. Just being near her again has my heart hammering. “Kylie,” I say quietly.

  She turns toward me with eyes red from crying.

  “Who fucking hurt you?” I ask, lunging forward to cup her cheek and look her over. “Was it someone at the party? Give me a name.”

  “Stop,” she says, voice shuddering. “Just stop.” She pulls back, visibly gathering herself and squeezing her eyes shut. “Nobody hurt me. Nobody gets to hurt me anymore. You’re the last one with that honor.”

  I clench my teeth so hard it hurts. I could fucking kill Faleena for this. If I had known Kylie was carrying around this much pain from what happened back on my private plane three years ago, I would have torn down every city in the fucking country until I found her and set this straight, I would’ve spent my fortune running ads and billboards telling her what a crock of shit Faleena fed her. “It shouldn’t have taken me this long to find you,” I say. “But I’m here now. Let me show you she was lying. Just give me a chance.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “He’s over here!” shouts Steve, who is guiding two security guards toward me from the elevators.

  “We can make it that easy. Meet me. Give me one chance. Five minutes, even. That’s all I ask. I’ll be at Baker’s coffee in an hour. It’s just a block from here on the corner.”

  Her eyes well with tears, but she fights them back. The conflict is written so clearly on her face it tears at me like rusted knives. I can’t stand that I put her through this. I shouldn’t have ever let her from my sight back then and given Faleena a chance to fuck things up.

  “Sir,” says one of the security guards who reaches for my arm.

  I pull my arm back, giving him a glare that clearly says he shouldn’t touch me unless he wants to be dragged out of here unconscious. He gets the message and motions instead for me to head to the elevator.

  “One hour,” I say again to Kylie, who says nothing in return.

  I’m escorted out of the building, drawing even more stares this time, but none of it registers. I can only think of the pain I saw in her face. Knowing I caused that makes me feel like the scum of the fucking Earth, and I know I’ll never be able to make it up to her completely, but I’m sure as hell going to try.

  I wait by myself in the coffee shop for two and a half hours before Kylie finally walks in. She looks self-conscious, and her vulnerability only makes me want her more. She spots me and walks over, slowly taking her seat but saying nothing.

  “You have four minutes left,” she says after a brief silence.

  I raise my eyebrows. “I’d say four minutes thirty seconds, but--”

  “Three minutes and fifty seconds,” she says coldly.

  Damn. “Ask me anything you want,” I say. “I’ll be a hundred percent honest.”

  “Was everything she told me a lie?”

  “I don’t know exactly what she told you, but Faleena was nothing to me. I met her at a club a few months prior to that day at the airport. We went on a handful of dates and I broke things off. No woman has ever held my interest for long, Kitten, except you. I’ve spent every day since we’ve been apart thinking of you, looking for you.”

  She shakes her head and looks out the window to our side. I can practically see the emotions at war inside her. She’s conflicted. Part of her probably wants to throw a coffee in my face and leave for good. The other part? I can only hope that part of her knows she feels something real between us, too, that all this talk isn’t just crazy.

  “Listen,” I say, reaching across the table to grip her hand. She doesn’t pull it back. “Some people think you need to go on a handful of dates to get to know someone. Me? I think that’s bullshit. I knew you the moment I looked into your eyes. I knew you were a strong woman. I knew you were intelligent as hell, and I knew nobody--especially any men--had ever taken care of you the way you deserve. All I wanted was to be that man for you. It’s still all I want.”

  She bites her lip and looks down at where our hands meet. “I want to believe you. That’s why I’m so af
raid to give you a chance,” she says quietly. “I know it’s probably not fair to take a stranger’s word over yours, but then you’re basically a stranger, too, aren’t you?”

  My eyebrows draw down. “You know that’s not true. Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me I feel like a stranger to you.”

  She looks away, takes a deep breath, and sighs. I can see her coming to some kind of decision, one I hope involves a date with me. “If you knew the real truth about me you wouldn’t be saying all this. No. No… I can’t do this. You’ll only run away when you get close and I’ll be back where I started, except this time you’ll break me.”

  Her lower lip quivers and she looks at her phone. “That’s five minutes.”

  “Kylie,” I say firmly, but she picks up her bag and rushes out of the shop.

  I slam my fist on the table, making several nearby people jump and give me nervous glances. “The fuck are you looking at?” I ask at the college kid closest to me.

  He picks up his bag and hurries outside, glancing over his shoulder before he leaves.

  I lean back in my chair and run my hands across my face with a groan of irritation. Fuck. She is not making this easy. If I knew the whole truth? What was she talking about? What truth could there be that would make me want to run from her? There’s nothing. I don’t care if she has a dead body in her trunk. She’s going to be mine, whether she believes it or not, and I’m just going to have to keep trying to convince her.

  7

  Kylie

  I lean my head against my apartment door and fight back tears for what seems like the twentieth time in two days. I’m not normally a crier, and I hate being such a mess right now, but I feel like I’m being pulled in a hundred different directions at once. Every atom in my body is screaming to reach out for Damian, to let him hold me and run his hands through my hair, to let him whisper those dirty thoughts of his in my ear and make my skin prickle with goosebumps. But I can’t stop the small voice in the back of my head that keeps asking “what if?” What if Faleena was really telling the truth? Wouldn’t a guy like the one she described to me lie and say whatever he thought would get him in my pants?