Bad Breakup: Billionaire’s Club Book 2

by Elise Faber

  Bad Breakup

  Billionaire’s Club Book 2

  Elise Faber

  BAD BREAKUP

  BY ELISE FABER

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  * * *

  BAD BREAKUP

  Copyright © 2018 Elise Faber

  ISBN-10: 1-946140-15-5

  ISBN-13: 978-1-946140-15-9

  Cover Art by Jena Brignola

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Elise Faber

  One

  Cecilia

  * * *

  Cecilia sat on the plane, her first-class seat luxurious and insanely comfortable. It might have been the first time in her limited travel experience that she didn’t feel like cattle shoved into the back of a truck, and instead, like an actual person with wants and needs.

  “Your champagne, Ms. Thiele.”

  “Thank you,” she said and took a sip, leaning back into the butter-soft leather with a sigh.

  She’d just closed her eyes when someone sat down in the empty seat next to her.

  Rustling accompanied the movement as the person got settled.

  “Can I get you anything?” the flight attendant asked.

  “A whiskey.”

  Every hair stood up on Cecilia’s neck. Oh, God no. It couldn’t possibly be—

  She clenched her lids tightly, refusing, absolutely refusing to open them. No. She was imaging things. It had been years since she’d heard that voice.

  Too many years.

  “Here you go, Mr. McGregor.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Her eyes flew open, but she didn’t move her head. She couldn’t chance it. But she did risk a peek out of the corner of her eye and that was enough to have dread twisting her stomach into knots.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  She’d booked this flight last minute, deciding to use the voucher gifted to her by Abby after she and Jordan had returned from their honeymoon.

  Cecilia’s life had felt stagnant.

  She’d needed to get away, and she’d had the free flight and hotel.

  It made sense to use it, however last minute.

  Plus, everything had worked out. There had been one first-class seat open. Only one cabin at her dream resort.

  And now she was sitting next to Colin McGregor.

  “Flight attendants, arm the doors,” the pilot’s voice chimed through the plane’s speakers.

  A thud signaled her last avenue of escape disappearing.

  She was trapped on a nonstop flight for twelve hours.

  With the man who’d left her at the altar.

  How was this possibly her life?

  “Cecilia?” that masculine voice asked. “Is it really you?”

  And just like all the times before, her eyes were drawn to him. She’d never been able to ignore him. Not Colin. Not even when he’d—

  But this time was different.

  She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a vulnerable girl in a rough place.

  She’d been through hell and back.

  Colin had no power over her.

  Not anymore.

  Cecilia put in her earbuds and turned her back on the man who’d devastated her world six years before.

  Two

  Cecilia

  * * *

  She was going to yell “Bomb!” on an airplane.

  She had to.

  It was the single way to get the plane to turn around, for CeCe to find an escape route from the awful man sitting next to her. He’d been staring at her for three hours twenty-two minutes and forty-six seconds. Forty-seven. Forty-eight—

  Okay. The precise timing wasn’t important.

  But the heavy weight of his gaze was smothering her, a stifling cloud that threatened to make her insane. And it wasn’t any worse than his smell, all spicy and male. It floated around her, making her toes curl.

  He was the same as before.

  As in he had exactly the same effect on her body—an accelerated pulse, sweaty palms, a tense quivering abdomen, and heat between her thighs.

  She wanted him.

  Despite it being six years since she’d seen him. Despite what he had done.

  Cecilia’s body still wanted Colin’s with a longing that was so intense it was almost scary.

  Her lady bits wanted her to tug him up from his seat by the tie—a new addition, as she’d never seen the man in a suit—drag him up the aisle, and lock him in the ridiculously small bathroom to have her merry way with him.

  Hence the bomb threat.

  Which, obviously, she couldn’t make.

  It might be torture sitting next to Colin, but there were three hundred other people on this airplane, all with places to be, people to visit, sights to see. She couldn’t ruin that for them.

  Not that Colin McGregor would care he was ruining it for her. He crushed dreams, smashed hearts, tore tender emotions to shreds.

  He was her Godzilla, and she was the decimated city.

  Had been the decimated city.

  Now she was rebuilt. She was stronger, her heart reinforced with rebar and steel, and she didn’t give one damn for Colin McGregor.

  Damns to give or not, she still didn’t want him within arm’s reach and so shortly after takeoff, she’d risen and discreetly asked the flight attendant if there was any way she could switch seats, only to receive a regretful glance and an apology as the flight was completely full and all of the first class seats were occupied by couples or families traveling together.

  She’d even started to ask about moving back to economy, thinking to make someone’s day by offering them a seat by the gorgeous Scot, but the flight attendant had looked so harried that Cecilia had relented.

  She knew they had a job to do and that she was getting in the way of it and while she also didn’t want to be a pain in the ass, her current situation was truly untenable.

  “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he said and the rough edges of his accent hacked at the words, making them more of a growl rather than a soft sentiment.

  Her breath caught,
and she found her eyes drawn to the stormy blue of Colin’s.

  And she stared again, utterly entranced before she remembered how it had all ended.

  Her in a white dress.

  Alone except for the priest who’d given her a pitying look and invited her to stay as long as she needed.

  It had always been like this, Colin’s gruff words winning her over. They were unexpected from him—he was typically so reserved and taciturn, and freely given as they were, his words chipped away at any defenses she managed to erect.

  The problem was that his words weren’t always followed up by action. In fact, they were typically trailed by pain for her and fury for him.

  The hurt of those memories—of Colin so angry, her so broken—helped shore up her resolve.

  “Don’t say things like that,” she snapped and started to pop her earbuds back in. Her friends at home had filled her phone with a slew of romantic audiobooks and she decided that she much preferred fictional heroes at the moment.

  At least if they broke their heroine’s heart, it was only once.

  Colin had already broken hers twice.

  She wasn’t looking for a round three.

  But before she had the chance to insert the earbud, his fingers gripped her wrist. “Don’t ignore me,” Colin said, all high-and-mighty, all arrogant, rich Scottish duke.

  Well, she wasn’t a little girl anymore, wasn’t a fresh-faced recent high school graduate taking a summer trip, wasn’t even a slightly disillusioned college dropout. No. She was more experienced and at twenty-six she knew she’d had enough of wealthy, powerful men.

  “You don’t belong here.”

  “Go!”

  “If you were worth anything at all, your parents wouldn’t have disowned you.”

  The memory of Colin’s words were bullets, stealing her breath as they shot forward in her mind to strike home.

  She’d been so naïve, so stupid, so . . . completely in love.

  And he’d destroyed her.

  Twice.

  What was the saying? Fool her once and shame on him, but fool her twice and shame on her?

  Yeah. That.

  Shame on her. For being a fucking idiot. For putting herself out there. For being a glutton for punishment.

  “Let me go, Colin,” she said, yanking at her wrist until he was either forced to release her or make a scene. He chose to let her go. Of course he did. Because McGregors didn’t make scenes. They functioned in the background, skulking, stalking, waiting for the moment their prey faltered and they could pounce.

  And to show her that he was still in control, that he was stronger than her and was only loosening his grip was because he wanted to, Colin did it slowly, sliding fingertip by fingertip free, dragging them across her skin and raising goose bumps in their wake.

  “I already did that once,” he said, putting his arm back onto his armrest. A lock of jet-black hair fell across his forehead as he leaned in to meet her eyes. “And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “Twice,” she whispered, her throat tight, her heart pounding. There was an invitation in his gaze. He would accept her. She could crawl into his arms, get lost in an embrace that made her feel sheltered from anything bad in the universe.

  Except with Colin that peaceful, protected feeling never actually lasted.

  His expression clouded and she might have said he looked confused. But Colin was never anything less than one hundred percent completely sure of himself.

  That was why he’d broken her so completely the second time.

  So she ignored the invitation in his eyes, turned her back on him again, and tried to pretend that she didn’t feel like crying.

  Her once in a lifetime adventure was off to a brilliant start.

  Three

  Colin

  * * *

  She still smelled of vanilla and jasmine. Her head still fit perfectly under his chin.

  Colin inhaled deeply, knowing that if someone caught him, he’d end up looking like a bloody idiot. It was worth it anyway. Cecilia’s scent hit him right in the gut, unfurling in his stomach and spreading through his limbs.

  It smelled like home and also like his biggest regret.

  She sighed in her sleep, turning over and nuzzling close, and her hair tickled his nose, just like it used to. God damn, did that make his heart ache. He’d searched for her after she’d left. He’d hoped and spent a ridiculous amount of money trying to track her down.

  And now she was in his arms again.

  What was the American expression? A summer fling? They’d had two of them. Except, it hadn’t just been a fling for him. Not either time.

  He’d given her a ring.

  Had actually been waiting at the altar when he’d discovered she’d run off with his best friend.

  He’d been hurt and too angry for answers at the time. Then later, when that fury had finally calmed enough that he’d wanted them, his family had imploded and he hadn’t been able to spare a moment for a young man’s idiotic emotional needs.

  A month after CeCe had left him, his father had dropped dead, apoplectically screaming at a tenant for some perceived slight, and while Colin wasn’t terribly sad to see the old bastard go, he had nearly been sunk by the responsibilities of inheriting the multitude of McGregor estates and businesses. He’d needed to dive in, to streamline because the family was bleeding money and would have been out on their asses if he hadn’t taken the time to learn every detail of each of the companies before deciding which to sell and which to keep. It had taken years before he’d been able to breathe freely, but he was there.

  And the deal with RoboTech further ensured that.

  The McGregor coffers were secure. His family was safe. And . . . now what?

  Or at least, that was what he’d been thinking before he’d sat down next to Cecilia on the plane.

  Now his focus was clear and revolved around a certain waifish redhead with piercing green eyes.

  Though he supposed waifish wasn’t the right term for her, not any longer. Six years ago she’d still been a girl. Today Colin found himself holding a woman, still slender and petite, but full of curves that his hands itched to cup.

  She sighed and shifted in the circle of his arms, and he knew that it wouldn’t be much longer before she woke. She’d slipped off about forty-five minutes after deliberately beginning to ignore him again, but though her mind might be in favor of rejecting any interaction with him, her body seemed to have a different tack. As sleep had swept through her, she’d slumped against him, first her back then her shoulders and head, and then nearly all of her when he’d slid an arm around her to shift her into a more comfortable position.

  Her head was tucked just beneath his chin, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other dangling between them and resting on the outside of his thigh.

  Thank God it was on the outside, otherwise he might have embarrassed himself.

  She shifted again, and Colin took one more inhale, knowing that she would hate both him and herself when she woke and found them tangled together.

  The cabin lights flicked on, and CeCe breathed out slowly. Inhaled and he felt her breath catch through the cotton of his suit. Her back went stiff, her hand at his waist curled into a fist.

  It was obvious the moment she was fully awake. Mainly because the second she was, Cecilia did her best impression of a cat being wrangled for a visit with the vet. She clawed at his chest, trying to shove herself back into her own seat, and in the process managed to both nearly unman him and catch a chunk of her hair on the buttons of his shirt.

  “Jesus, woman,” he ground out, grabbing her hips to steady her flailing movements. She struggled, her elbow connecting with his midsection and then lower. Okay, that was enough. He pinned her against him, trapping those dangerous limbs between them. “I’d like to keep that part. Just hold still.”

  “Let me go,” she snapped.

  “Certainly,” he replied. “Or at least I will once you’ve released yourself
from my shirt.”

  Finally, she stopped fighting him. “What?”

  “Your hair is stuck . . .”

  Fingers came up to feel her scalp, and she winced when she found the tangle. “Oh.”

  “If you’ll allow me”—she snorted and he ignored it—“I’ll release you.” But despite the tension in her frame, CeCe didn’t move as he gently worked the locks free. “There,” he eventually said, smoothing a hand down her head and tucking an errant strand behind her ear.

  She lurched off him and back into her own seat. “Thanks,” she muttered and swept her hair up into some sort of intricate twist that exposed the back of her neck—

  His heart stopped.

  He reached across the armrest and gripped both of her arms, fury suddenly filling every cell in his body. “What have you done?”

  Where once there had been soft red tendrils, curls he’d loved twisting around his finger as he’d trailed kisses down her nape, now there was nothing but shorn locks, so short that he could see—

  CeCe frowned. “It’s been six years. I cut my hair. Big deal.”

  “Not the haircut,” he grit out. “That I like. It suits you.” And it did. The bigger question was, “Why the fuck do you have another man’s name tattooed on your neck?”

  Four

  Cecilia

  * * *