Without Warning: A Billionaire Romance (Playboys of New York Book 5)

by JA Low

  Stanford’s face turns a horrible shade of red. He looks like he’s ready to explode and maybe plot the murder of Rhys.

  “I would love a large black coffee, though. Thanks, bud.” He slaps his brother on his back and practically pushes him out the doorway.

  The strange thing is Stanford does as he’s told and stomps away, grumbling something under his breath. As soon as Stanford has disappeared, Rhys shuts the door to my office and locks it. What the hell?

  “You have five minutes to get out of my office before I kick you in your fucking balls,” I warn.

  9

  Rhys

  The last person I thought I would ever see my brother being creepy toward was the woman from the other night. The one that I have been desperately trying to track down.

  Ricky refused to give me any information about her. The fucking asshole. Thankfully management fired him the next day.

  And now, here she is, working in my father’s business.

  I stare down at her. She’s dressed in a black wrap top that extenuates her gorgeous breasts tastefully, and her brown hair is pulled up in a tight ponytail. She’s sitting behind her desk, and I can’t see what she’s wearing beneath it.

  The way my brother demanded she gets us coffee when I can certainly tell she is not his assistant made my blood boil. I could see in the flare of her chocolate-colored eyes that she was pretending to stab him at the request.

  My brother is a twit. Honestly, does he think a woman like Ariana would be interested in him?

  She doesn’t look happy to see me, which I completely get, but I need to explain to her that what happened the other night was a horrible mix-up, and I want to apologize to her.

  “You have five minutes to get out of my office before I kick you in your fucking balls,” she tells me.

  Okay, this might take a little longer than me flashing my megawatt smile and baby blues.

  “I’d like to see you try.” Raising a brow in her direction, I dare her to come over here and touch me. My mind wanders back to our night together. My eyes fall to her lips, remembering the way she kissed me. Then I remember the moans that fell from those same lips. My dick twitches, thinking about the way she responded to my tongue. Would she be like that again?

  I move closer and place my hands squarely on her desk.

  “What the hell do you want?” She moves back in her chair, keeping a large space between us. “Do you want to humiliate me a second time?” I can see on her face how embarrassed she is by what happened. I don’t want her to feel like that. It was an honest mistake that turned out to be something so much more than I ever expected. So much so, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

  “Did you come in here to make sure I take your dirty money?” She reminds me of one of the stupidest things I have ever done. Those chocolate eyes flare as flecks of gold flicker with anger. “Oh, I know, is it to pretend as if I’m a stranger again.” She throws her hands up in the air.

  “You were a stranger that night,” I try to explain to her. “You don’t know the full story.”

  “I don’t need to know the full story. All I know is I’ve never been so humiliated.” Her eyes turn a little glassy as she explains how she feels to me.

  Dammit! I’m the biggest dick in the world. I move around her desk and take a seat on the edge. She rolls her chair back, getting as far away from me as she possibly can.

  “The person you were talking to wasn’t me,” I tell her. She stills. “I found out after you left that Ricky Bailey, the bellman, was impersonating me because his girlfriend dumped him.”

  Her eyes widen as she listens. “Bailey?” she states.

  “Yeah. I found out he was using my picture and first name online.”

  Ariana looks devastated as she realizes what I’m saying.

  “Just before arriving home, my friend joked that he got me something to celebrate my arrival back home.”

  “And you saw me standing there in my underwear and thought I was the something.” The realization hits her as she works out where the mix-up had been.

  I understand now why she knew who I was, and she understands why I thought I knew who she was.

  “That’s why you gave me the tip.” Sad chocolate eyes look up at me.

  “I’ve never paid for sex before, honestly. I had no idea what I was doing,” I confess. “My friends have joked about it, but never have I done it,” I try to explain to her.

  “My friends don’t joke about buying prostitutes for each other.” She’s giving me some sass.

  I let out a sigh. “You see… I’m going through a messy divorce.”

  She shakes her head as if what I’ve just said is the icing on the cake. “Of course, you are.” Rolling her eyes as she stands up and moves out of her chair, she wraps her arms around herself as if they will protect her from my words.

  “She ran off with my best friend.” The words tumble out quickly as if that little tidbit of information will stop her from bolting from the room. I walk around the desk and stand in front of her. “That’s why I’ve been in London. I was over the drama of it all.” There’s a slight frown pressed against her forehead as if she doesn’t quite believe me. “I’ve come back as she’s trying to take my company away from me.” Might as well throw all my emotional baggage right out in front of this gorgeous woman. Not like I will ever get a second chance with her.

  “Why?” she asks softly.

  “I have no idea. Money probably.” Shoving my hands in my pockets, I shrug.

  “What do you do?” She changes the subject. “Are you an architect?”

  I shake my head. “I have a degree, but no, I’m not an architect, never wanted to be part of the family business.” Her brow raises at this little nugget of information. “I own luxury vacation rentals and boutique hotels.”

  Those chocolate eyes widen, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind. “Well, I guess we can call Saturday night a series of unfortunate events.” She gives herself a self-deprecating chuckle.

  “I definitely wouldn’t call anything about Saturday night unfortunate, other than the ending.” Reaching out and cupping her face, she stills as my fingers caress her cheek. I knew as soon as I did it, it was a stupid idea, but for some reason, my mind goes haywire around her.

  She takes a step backward, breaking our connection. “Thanks for explaining yourself, R-Rhys,” she stumbles over my name. “But I should really get back to work.” She tries to dismiss me.

  “I would like to make it up to you… over dinner. Tonight?” Honestly, I don’t want this moment between us to end.

  “Don’t think that would be a good idea.” She shakes her head.

  “I think it would.” Giving her my flirtatious grin, she simply shakes her head.

  “It was nice to meet you, Rhys.” She holds out her hand to me, and reluctantly I take it. But as soon as our hands touch, sparks of electricity shoot up either side of us, and we break the connection.

  We both stare at each other as if trying to work out what the hell just happened.

  “I’ve got to go.” Ariana opens the door and disappears out of her office, leaving me behind, utterly confused.

  I walk out and down the hall to my father’s office, interested in what he has to say. His receptionist lets me in, and I take a seat.

  “Rhys, good to see you back from London.” Finally looking up from his paperwork, he shakes my hand.

  “Why am I here?” I question, not beating around the bush.

  Moments later, Stanford comes in with coffee for all. My father gives him a strange look but takes the coffee anyway.

  “Can’t an old man catch up with his son?” He looks over the rim of his coffee directly at me.

  “Isn’t that what he’s for?” I ask, pointing my thumb in the direction of Stanford.

  “Fine.” My father drops the niceties and places his coffee on the desk. “I heard you acquired the old marina hotel in Montauk.”

  And there it is.

>   He wants me to use him for the damn renovations.

  “Yes. I did.”

  I know the story about that hotel. His best friend and colleague won the contract to design the hotel over him. His best friend also happened to be dating my mom at that time. Mom always told the story from rose-colored glasses that our father fell in love with her and that they were some kind of star-crossed lovers, but in reality, my father was upset that he lost his first-ever account to his best friend, so he thought he would get him back by taking his woman.

  “You know how I feel about that place,” he tells me, keeping his emotions in check, but I can see it on his face he would kill to have the hotel under his control.

  “I do,” answering him, then I take a sip of my coffee.

  “And?” His voice raises.

  “And… I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with it yet.”

  “I want it,” he declares.

  “I know.” Taking another sip of my coffee, I can see my father’s cheeks go red as his anger begins to build.

  “Let me know when you have worked it out,” he tells me, then I’m dismissed.

  Well, that was a fruitless exercise, not sure why I expected anything different to come out of the conversation.

  Stanford follows me out. Obviously, he has something to say.

  “Just spit it out, Sandy.” Losing patience with this fucking family is my pastime.

  “Ariana’s mine.” He glares at me. “So, if you want my sloppy seconds, then go right ahead. But just know I’ve been there first.”

  I want to reach out and wrap my hand around him and squish every single muscle in his neck. I’m one hundred percent sure there is no way in hell Ariana has fucked my brother, not from the conversation I overheard when I arrived.

  “I guess she was left unsatisfied then.” Turning on my heel, I get the hell out of there. I have no more to say to these people.

  10

  Ariana

  Unknown Number: It was good seeing you the other day.

  I stare at the message that’s come through on my phone. Is this from Rhys? How the hell did he get my number? Probably went through the company’s files. No, he said he wanted nothing to do with his father’s business.

  Ariana: How did you get this number?

  Rhys: Your business card from your desk.

  Damn, he’s good.

  Ariana: Why are you messaging me?

  Rhys: Because it was nice seeing you again.

  Ariana: Are you a masochist?

  Rhys: Never thought I was, but it seems like maybe you bring it out of me.

  Why am I smiling?

  No. Shaking my head. I will not be sucked into his flirty messages.

  Rhys Davenport is off-limits.

  Then why did you google his name as soon as he left the office? I was checking to see if his story checked out, that he was truly getting a divorce, and it was true. The sordid details about his marriage splashed across my screen. I felt a little icky reading about his personal life, but it’s not like I really know the guy. You just let him fuck you. That’s because I thought he wasn’t a stranger. Why the hell am I arguing with myself? This man has me all flustered, and I don’t like it.

  Ariana: Maybe I’m just the wrong woman for you.

  Rhys: Pretty sure we know we’re compatible between the sheets unless you want to try again to be sure?

  Is this guy serious?

  What is the matter with him?

  Ariana: I think I’m okay.

  Rhys: Look, I’ve ordered way too much food for dinner tonight. Why don’t you come over and we can hang out?

  Ariana: Put it in the freezer.

  Rhys: Or I could share it?

  This guy doesn’t give up.

  Ariana: I appreciate you explaining what happened the other night, but I think it’s best we just leave it at that.

  There, I’ve let him down gently.

  Rhys: I really did have fun the other night. And it was nice running into you at work. I was looking forward to maybe getting to know you, but I get it. And honestly, no hard feelings at all.

  I fall back against the bed, feeling like such a bitch. Everything is messed up.

  “You okay?” Emma walks into my bedroom with a bottle of champagne in her hand. I look a mess. Moving my hand away from my face, I stare up at Emma’s concerned eyes.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, let’s move into the living and pop this bubbly and sort your shit out.” She pulls me up off the bed, and we make our way back into the living room, where she pops the bottle and pours us both a glass. “Now, tell Aunty Em what’s going on.” She taps my leg, which makes me smile.

  “You know how I told you about what happened on the weekend?” Emma nods her head in understanding. “Well, I kind of ran into him again.” This has her sitting up straighter, giving me a look as if to say, continue with the story, bitch. “He is the estranged son of my boss.”

  Emma chokes on her drink. “Say what now?”

  Yeah. This is one crazy-ass story.

  “I ran into him on Monday when he came into the office.” Emma nods her head. “He’s creepy Stanford’s brother.”

  “That explains a lot,” Emma adds.

  “I thought it did, but it doesn’t,” I tell her. “He told Stanford to go get his own coffee when he demanded I get it.” Emma’s eyes widen with surprise. “Then he explained that his friend told him there was a special present waiting for him in his apartment when he arrived home from overseas.”

  “And he thought that present was you?” Emma chuckles.

  “Yeah. Exactly that.” I shake my head at the craziness of the situation. “He then explained that his bellman had been using his photo, first name, and apartment to hook up with girls.”

  Emma pauses as my words sink in. “Say what now?” She raises her voice.

  “I know. It’s like I’m on the TV show Catfish.” Letting out a small sigh. “I feel stupid that I would fall for the oldest trick in the book.” I take a small sip of my champagne.

  “No. Don’t be like that. Men are dicks.” She’s right there. “What else did he say?” Emma asks.

  “He asked me out to dinner,” I tell her quickly before throwing back the rest of the glass.

  “He asked you out on a date?” Emma’s voice raises again in surprise.

  “Yes. I said no, of course.”

  “Wait. You said no to the guy who gave you hot sex. Apologized. Told off his misogynist brother, and still, after that whole crazy thing, wanted to take you to dinner.”

  Okay, when she puts it like that, it was nice of him.

  “He took my business card from my desk and just texted and asked me out again.”

  Emma squeals and practically jumps up off the sofa. “He took your business card and texted you,” she reiterates.

  “Yeah. But I said no. I’m not interested.”

  “What!” Emma gives me a funny look. “Why would you do that?” She shakes her head. “Does he look like a trust-fund douche like Stanford?”

  I shake my head—no way in the world. Rhys is gorgeous.

  “Show me,” Emma demands, pulling out her phone.

  I give her his name, and she stills as she slowly turns her head and looks at me. “The guy was Rhys Davenport?”

  Yeah, how did she know that?

  “OMG, he is like the hottest bachelor on the social scene. He went to London because of dramas with his ex-wife or something like that. Think she was screwing his best friend. There’s some legal battle about money and assets, from what I’ve heard.” She shrugs, and I just stare at her in astonishment. “Ari, that man is fine.”

  “I know,” I agree.

  “Why the hell are you not getting back on that good dick?” Emma questions me.

  “Um… because of all the reasons I’ve listed before,” I explain. She shakes her head and looks at me disappointedly. “What?” I question.

  “I can see it, that’s all.” Emma grins.
/>
  “See what?” Are we talking in code at the moment?

  “You and Rhys. You two make a very sexy couple.” Emma gives me a wink.

  “No. No, we don’t. At all. We aren’t a couple. We aren’t anything. I will not be seeing him ever again.” I raise my voice in protest.

  “So, when are you quitting your job?” she asks, changing the subject.

  The abrupt conversation change confuses me.

  “I was going to on Monday, then the whole Rhys thing happened, which threw me for a loop. So, I don’t know… I’m just sorting some stuff out,” I tell her.

  Emma crosses her arms in front of her and raises her brow disapprovingly.

  “Fine. Fine. Tomorrow. It’s Friday, so if they tell me to fuck off, least I’ll have the weekend to celebrate.”

  “Hey…” Emma reaches out to me. “You don’t have to quit at all,” she reassures me.

  “I know. I want to. I have to do it for my own sanity,” I explain.

  “Look… how about this. I have a gala thingy to go to tomorrow night. We can go together. Dress up. Have a girls’ night. Anderson won’t care. He will happily have two women on his arm.” Emma tries to cheer me up.

  I think tomorrow I will want to hide in my bed and eat my weight in ice cream.

  “I can see that look on your face. No,” Emma says sternly. “You’re coming tomorrow night. And we are going to make you the belle of the ball. And you are going to fucking enjoy it.”

  Okay, right! Guess I’m off to play Cinderella then.

  “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”

  “Nope, you don’t.” Emma smiles.

  11

  Rhys

  “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.” My mother rushes over and pulls me into a hug as I arrive at her apartment before the annual Davenport Ball—my mother’s fundraising event of the year, which she’s been in charge of my entire life.

  It’s good to be home. No matter how old you get, a hug from your mom makes everything okay.