Bad Hookup: Billionaire’s Club Book 4

by Elise Faber

  “I didn’t—” Rachel shook her head.

  Fingers rested on her shoulder. “He had a bleed. One that had been leaking slowly for a long time. It could have gone at any time.” A reassuring squeeze. “Today just happened to be that day.”

  “But I hit him with the bottle so hard.”

  The nurse straightened, indicating Rachel’s bound hand. “I think you injured yourself more than him with that bottle shattering the way it did. The coroner said he was likely gone before it even made contact.”

  “I—”

  One of the officers handed him a card and murmured they’d need a statement at some point the next day. Bas told her they’d be in touch, and the officers left Rachel’s room.

  “It’s over,” the nurse said when they’d gone. “Just hold on to that thought for now. The rest can come later.”

  Rachel nodded and her eyes were misty when they met Sebastian’s. “It’s really over?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Can I go home now?”

  “What?” Bas said. “No. You need to stay and—”

  “Actually,” the nurse said. “All of her scans are clear and while she’s bruised to hell and back, Rachel is very lucky. Aside from broken bones, she doesn’t have any serious injuries.”

  “Bones?” he ground out.

  “Just some tiny ones,” Rachel said.

  The nurse rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Several of the small bones in her foot are broken. The orthopedist has set her leg already, but she’ll need several follow up appointments with her as well as an internist, just to confirm her broken ribs are healing properly.”

  Bas stiffened. “Why in the hell is she coming home if she has that many injuries?”

  “Because she’s going to be okay and doesn’t need observation. Which means the best thing for her right now is to recover at home.” The nurse began typing on the computer in the room. “I’ll grab her discharge instructions and then go over them with you both.”

  Rachel glanced at him. “So my apartment is . . .”

  A crime scene, probably. A horrible reminder of what had happened, definitely.

  “Want to borrow mine?” he asked.

  And the smile she gave him went a long way to soothing the anger and panic and absolute fury that was engulfing his heart.

  A NURSE WHEELED Rachel out of the back and then, when she pointed, in the direction of their group.

  “Fuck,” Devon hissed as they came close. “That son of a bitch is going to die a slow death.”

  “Dev,” Bas warned.

  His brother ignored him, moving to kneel next to Rachel. “I’m having my car brought around. Do you know where you want to stay tonight? I can get you a hotel or you can stay with—”

  “Bas?” she asked softly.

  “The bed hog is staying with me,” he replied.

  Her lips tipped up into a small smile.

  She would be okay. They would both be okay.

  “You’re getting a raise,” Heather bawled.

  Rachel frowned then winced. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know,” Heather said with a sniff as Clay tugged her into his arms. She buried her face into his chest, shoulders shaking.

  Sera pressed a kiss to an unbruised part of her face. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

  CeCe hugged her with extreme gentleness. “Abby wanted me to tell you that she’ll make sure you get the good drugs.”

  Rachel snorted, then brought her hand to her middle. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts too much.”

  Bec had been standing in the background, but at those words, she finally knelt in front of Rachel, her eyes were wet, her nose red and dripping. “I’m so sorry. I should have—”

  “Shut. Up.” Rachel’s harsh tone took them all by surprise. “There is not one person in this room who has any right to feel guilty”—her gaze flicked from Bec to Sebastian—“Not one person. Okay?”

  Bec sniffed, started to shake her head—

  “Bec,” Rachel snapped. “Not. One. Person.”

  Bec shuddered but eventually nodded.

  Pascal poked his head in, indicating the car was ready, and they all made their way to it, helping the nurse get Rachel settled into the back of Devon’s sedan.

  A few minutes later, her friends had all said goodbye and made promises to check up on Rachel tomorrow, and Kelsey was herding Becca and Devon into her rental car.

  “Call me later,” Devon said.

  “I’d better be on that call list, too,” Kelsey called before closing the driver’s side door.

  Somehow, despite everything, Sebastian smiled.

  Eventually they would all be okay.

  He’d make damn sure of that.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  RACHEL

  * * *

  A WEEK LATER, Rachel finally forced Bas to go back to work.

  Bas’s overprotection had become both endearing and infuriating. He’d even carried her to the bathroom that morning before he’d left for the office, for fuck’s sake. Her leg was broken and, okay so were two of her ribs, but she had one of those knee scooter things and could totally make it to the toilet.

  Then there was the fact that he’d been watching her every waking moment, as though he expected her to crack.

  Fine, she’d half-expected to lose it herself.

  The terror of that day, of the minutes that felt like hours, an eternity, still flashed across her mind at all moments.

  But . . . she’d been through it before.

  She knew she’d get through it again.

  And this time, she had people who loved her by her side.

  That didn’t mean she wasn’t going more than a little stir-crazy. She was used to being busy, used to working or thinking about work during most waking hours.

  It had been T-minus seven days since she’d checked her email, and her inbox was going to be the absolute worst.

  Plus, she’d already watched what felt like every documentary on Netflix.

  Sleep hadn’t been coming all that easily, and lying in the dark was much less desirable than staying up all hours bingeing on her history and political docs.

  It wasn’t every time she closed her eyes, and it was definitely happening less frequently as the days went on, but Rachel could still feel the bottle colliding with Preston’s head, could remember the absolute terror, the burning pain filling her body.

  The police had come, and she’d given her statement. They’d confirmed that he’d had an aneurysm and had been dead before he’d fallen on top of her. They’d also revealed that she hadn’t actually been alone that morning.

  Three apartments down, a teenager had been home sick from school. She’d called 9-1-1 and they’d shown up seconds after Rachel had passed out.

  After Preston had died.

  Fuck.

  Why did she feel guilty?

  Because deep down, Rachel was relieved he was gone, that he wouldn’t be coming back to hurt her all over again.

  Did that make her a bad person?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  Or maybe it just made her normal?

  She’d sent the girl a thank you note but knew that she needed to meet her, make sure she wasn’t terrorized by what she’d heard, what she’d seen.

  The last thing Rachel wanted was for anyone else to be hurt because of Preston.

  Sighing, she shifted carefully in bed, her cracked ribs still not happy with any sort of movement. Heather had forbidden Rachel from doing any sort of work, but Abby had understood that Rachel had needed a distraction, and so she’d stolen a laptop from RoboTech and smuggled it into Bas’s apartment with all the pomp and secrecy of a secret agent.

  Smiling and shaking her head, Rachel knew she’d been so lucky to have found such a great group of people.

  They’d had a virtual parade of visitors through the apartment, Abby and Jordan bringing the stolen laptop along with enough snacks to fill the cabinets to bursting. Sera had come
bearing a new set of pajamas that buttoned on top and with legs wide enough to easily slip over her cast. CeCe and Colin had brought dinner then stayed to keep them company for several hours. CeCe had even gone so far as to book all of Rachel’s follow-up appointments and then had run out to pick up the refills for her prescriptions. Even Devon, Becca, and Kelsey had come by with Bas’s parents in tow, and his mom had made the most incredible spaghetti for all of them.

  But as Rachel booted up the laptop and started making her way through her emails, there was one person who hadn’t come.

  And that was the real problem keeping her up at night.

  How could she make Bec understand that what had happened with Preston wasn’t her fault?

  Well, she certainly couldn’t do anything with one bum leg and aching ribs. Except . . . she smiled. Maybe she could do something.

  She picked up her cell and sent a text.

  I’m alone and need food. Can you bring Molly’s?

  Almost instantly, Bec texted her back.

  I’ll be there in thirty.

  And so, another one fell into her trap. Rachel snorted at her own joke then got down to emails for another twenty minutes before carefully sliding out of bed. It’d take her close to ten minutes just to get to the door.

  An exaggeration, yes, but only a slight one.

  But it was a good thing she’d gotten up when she had because the knock came when she was still a few feet from the door. Her phone buzzed.

  It’s me.

  Rachel rolled forward and glanced through the peephole. If she’d taken nothing else from Preston, he’d at least taught her to be more aware of her surroundings.

  Bec was on the other side of the wood, bag from Molly’s in hand, a tight, pained expression pulling on her face.

  Rachel opened the door. “Thank you,” she said and sniffed. “You brought soup, too?”

  Bec shrugged. “Seemed the thing to do.”

  Then she just stood there, all unsure and indecisive and totally not Bec at all. Normally, she’d be barging in giving orders. Today, she just stared at Rachel with regret in her eyes.

  “Come in,” Rachel said and wheeled herself backward.

  Bec nodded, stepping over the threshold then turned to lock the door. Rachel ignored how the click of the dead bolt sliding home made her gut twist. She’d get over that.

  Eventually.

  “Where’s Sebastian?” Bec asked.

  “I got tired of him bossing me around and kicked him out.” Bec’s brows lifted. “To the office,” Rachel added. “For eight straight hours.”

  Lips curving, her friend walked forward to the table and began unpacking the salads and soup. “I got you potato and leek. I thought you’d had that before, but if you don’t like it, I also have butternut squash and chicken noodle.” She lined up enough containers that it looked as if she’d ordered half the menu. “Oh, and tomato soup and both salads and—”

  “Bec.”

  Her friend ignored the entreaty.

  Wheels squeaking slightly as she skidded forward, Rachel closed the distance between them and placed her hand over Bec’s, stilling it.

  “We need to talk about it.”

  Bec shook her head. “That one’s the peach and almond—”

  “Rebecca Darden. Shut up about the fucking food and sit down,” Rachel snapped. “We are going to talk about it.”

  Bec froze and sucked in a long breath. After a minute, she released it on a long exhale. “It’s my fault,” she said, sinking into a chair.

  “No. It’s absolutely not.” Rachel sat across from her. “It’s Preston’s—”

  “I went after him,” Bec said. “You told me to leave it, to just get the divorce and forget the rest of it, but I didn’t do that.” Gray eyes sparkled with tears, but her words were clear. “I went after him with everything I had. I wanted to destroy everything that mattered, to make him pay. And I wanted to make his corrupt father to—”

  She broke off and for the first time ever, Rachel saw Rebecca Darden, famed lawyer and corporate badass, cry.

  “It’s my fault,” she wailed. “If I hadn’t gone after Preston—”

  Tears trailed Bec’s face, and Rachel felt her own eyes water. Carefully, she pushed to her feet then limped back around the table and wrapped her good arm around her friend. “I’m glad you ignored me.”

  Bec pulled away.

  “Look at you,” she snapped. “How can you possibly be glad—?”

  “Because Preston is gone. Because he doesn’t have a hold over me any longer, because his father is no longer in a position of power. Or, at least, I’m assuming you got the asshole canned since you are Rebecca fucking Darden.” A small smile tipped Bec’s lips and she nodded. “I’m glad because they can’t hurt anyone else.”

  Bec’s chin dropped to her chest, and Rachel knew it would take time for her friend to see that she was okay, that she didn’t blame her.

  That it would take time for Bec to stop blaming herself.

  “I know one conversation isn’t a be-all-end-all, that you’re a stubborn pain in the ass who likes to shoulder the burdens of everyone else and make them right,” Rachel said. “But I don’t blame you. I’ll never blame you. And . . . if you forget that, I’ll sit you down and yell at you until you remember.”

  A flash of white teeth as Bec glanced back up. “You’re mean when you’re on Molly’s withdrawal.”

  “Good thing you bought half the menu, then.” Moving gingerly, Rachel navigated her way back to the chair across from Bec.

  Bec snorted. “I really did.”

  “I know.” She grinned. “And I’m going to take a page out of Abby’s book and say, you need to invest in waterproof mascara.”

  Her friend had serious raccoon eyes happening.

  Bec groaned and wiped a finger under each eye, smearing the black smudges further. “This is why I hate feelings.”

  “This is why you hate things you can’t control.”

  “Maybe.”

  They both laughed, which resulted in Rachel wincing and forbidding Bec from any jokes or sarcasm or pithy comments on the world at hand. Which, of course, meant they both spent their whole lunch doing all three.

  Rachel very quickly learned how to laugh without hurting her ribs.

  TWENTY-SIX

  SEBASTIAN

  * * *

  TWO MONTHS HAD PASSED, but waking up next to Rachel was still the best thing in the world.

  Especially now that she’d had her cast taken off and her bruises had faded. Of course, she was still as stubborn as ever, declaring herself completely recovered, but he had seen the shadows under her eyes after sleepless nights, caught her wincing when she coughed or laughed and her ribs hurt. Though in truth, those moments were coming fewer and further between.

  Thank God, because Bas didn’t know how he’d have lived with himself if she hadn’t gotten better.

  But she had gotten better, and she’d bounced back remarkably quickly, poking fun at her injuries, declaring that all her hours of binging on Netflix was rotting her brain.

  As if. The little stink had refused to listen to him and Heather and had been working from his apartment, almost from the moment she’d been able to get out of bed.

  But he had to admit that despite moving so quickly from sex to love to living together in just a few months time, he’d really enjoyed every minute of having Rachel in his space.

  It had felt right—she had felt right from the first moment she’d smiled up at him at Bobby’s.

  The touch on his cheek startled him.

  While he’d been daydreaming, the woman he loved had woken up and he’d missed his favorite thing in the world. The way she stretched upon waking—arching her back, arms extended, toes pointing, the soft groan that never failed to harden his morning wood into granite.

  “Morning,” she said softly.

  “Morning, love.” He bent down to kiss her forehead. “So, my cast-free girlfriend, what do you want to do today?”r />
  “Besides shaving this Chewbacca leg?” She poked her foot out from beneath the covers, wiggled navy blue painted toes.

  He slipped his hand down her back, cupping her ass and trailing his fingers across the hip that belonged to the Chewbacca leg. “I kind of like you hairy.”

  “Ew.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Bas kissed that cute nose. “So besides shaving, do you want to walk by the pier?”

  She shuddered. “Too many tourists.”

  “Shopping?”

  Rachel felt his forehead. “No fever. Have you been abducted by aliens?”

  “What?” he said. “I love shopping with women.”

  Brown brows pulled down and together. “Women?”

  “You,” he hurried to say. “Only you. Other women are dead to me.”

  “Good.” She smirked. “But shopping? Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” A shrug. “I would never turn down a fashion show. You parading through the changing room in sexy little outfits? Taking me back and closing the door, watching you come in the mirror as I ate you out.”

  Rachel’s cheeks went a little pink and she fanned herself. “Whew. So, you’ve apparently thought about that?”

  Bas’s lips twitched. “Just a little bit.”

  Okay, a lot. As in he’d spent a lot of time over the last two months fantasizing about all the things he was going to do to Rachel when she was completely recovered.

  “Mmm,” she said and tilted her head to the side, considering. “I could actually get behind prancing around in cute little outfits for you. Granted, you have to buy more of that gorgeous lingerie and prance around in outfits of your own.”

  “You mean this bag of lingerie?” he asked, reaching a hand out of bed as if to reach under the mattress.

  Her jaw dropped open. “What?”

  “I’m kidding.” He kissed her. “The bag’s in the closet.”

  She snorted. “You are such a dork. But because you’re my dork, I’m keeping you.”