The Billionaire and the Bad Girl

by Bella Love-Wins

  I shake my head. “How the hell could this have happened so fast?”

  “It’s the news. I wouldn’t worry too much. Think about it. It’s not like Liam himself confirmed that you’re an item.”

  “But what if they ask me for a comment?”

  “You’re a lawyer. You can handle them.”

  “True. It’ll probably blow over in a few days.”

  “Exactly.” She rests a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Do you think you’ll be okay to try on a few dresses? No one will be upset if you need to reschedule, but as were already here—”

  “No, you’re right.” I get off the chair. “I’m ready.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe you can reach out to Liam first.”

  Her suggestion makes me groan. I have no clue how Liam will react to our faces splashed over all the online news channels. He was the one who lied to my mother to begin with. But does he want the whole world in on this gag? What would he even get out of it? He never struck me as an attention whore. I mean, he didn’t even tell me about the Top Forty under Forty thing. Fuck, I’m so confused, my sanity hanging by a string when what I should be doing is enjoying this bridal fitting.

  “No.” I give my head a shake to physically wipe away the thoughts. “I’ll text him later.”

  “Sounds great to me.” She hooks her arm into mine and leads me to the main section of the boutique, where pale pinks, pastels and soft, creamy satin, tulle and lace dresses and ball gowns hang neatly on rows and rows of rolling racks. “Let’s find us some hideous bridesmaids dresses for Dahlia’s wedding.”

  12

  Liam

  “We’re going to miss you.”

  Liz, my most talented software analyst at the incubator, smiles from her seat in the chair across from my desk the next Monday afternoon. She was part of the most recent sale of a proprietary demographic forecasting app to the New York State government. They want to use it to anticipate population movement within the state to facilitate budget transfer approvals in each major center. Liz is just the person to whip them into shape. As it’s her last day at the incubator, I had my assistant set up a farewell luncheon with the rest of the team.

  It’s hours later, and Liz is still picking away at her lunch. She stares down into the Chinese takeout box, absently tapping the side with the chopsticks propped between her fingers. “I’m no good at goodbyes,” she admits.

  “You’d better get used to it. You’re two years out of college and moving up in the world. Besides, the State Department’s office is less than ten blocks away. We’ll probably all get tired of seeing you in the coffee line-up every morning.”

  “True.”

  “Did you have a chance to transition your files and add all the documentation to records retention?”

  “Yup! Got them all done over the weekend, and updated Leanne on all the file folders before lunch today. If you have any questions, she knows where everything is.”

  “Awesome.” I pull open the side drawers of my desk to double check whether or not I left my phone in one of them. It’s the third or fourth time I’ve misplaced the thing. And it takes forever to find because I usually don’t realize I don’t have it on me until long after the fucking battery dies.

  “Looking for something?” she asks.

  “My damn phone. I’ll need a tether for the fucking thing if I keep this up.”

  “When was the last time you used it?”

  I think back as I push the bottom drawer closed and feel around in my pockets for the umpteenth time today. Hell if I fucking know. “The weekend was pretty quiet, so probably last Friday or so. Don’t worry about it. It has a way of turning up…eventually. Anyway, feel free to blow this joint early. You earned it, kid.”

  “Oh, wait! I’ll be right back.” She disappears so quickly with her takeout box that I’m fully expecting her to return with my phone.

  That doesn’t happen. Instead of Chinese food, she comes in with two coffee mugs and a full-size bottle of Jäger.

  “Last toast?” She sets down the cups and pours a generous amount of the dark liquid into each glass.

  “Sure.” I pick up the closest mug. “What are we toasting to?”

  “To finding your phone,” she giggles. “No, to the universe bringing forth the geek who’ll come up with your phone tether idea. Hopefully, something that’s not as un-sexy as those neck cords people use for glasses. And ditto for a fanny pack holder design.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” I clink my coffee cup against the side of hers, taking a swig of the herbal flavored liquor. Glancing up as the cup lowers from my mouth, I get a pleasant surprise.

  Vanessa’s in my doorway.

  I haven’t seen her since the middle of last week. Haven’t heard from her either, but my missing phone is probably the reason why.

  “Vanessa. Come on in.”

  “We need to talk.” She takes a look at Liz for a second, then steps toward her, arm extended for a handshake. “Hi. I’m Vanessa. Sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I just need a minute with Liam. This won’t take long.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Liz. And no problem at all. I was just leaving.” Liz gets up, clutching her Jäger and the two mugs, but turns at the door. “Would you like a shot, Vanessa?”

  She smiles politely. “Sounds tempting, but I’ll take a rain check, as I have to get back to my job soon. Thanks anyway.” Once Liz has left my office, Vanessa turns back to me. “You drink with your staff in the middle of the day and can still come up with billions of dollars’ worth of new software tech?”

  “The creative process is nothing like practicing law.”

  “I bet.” She pulls the door closed and steps up to my desk. “But I’m not here for productivity tips, Liam.”

  “I was hoping you weren’t. Is your brother coming? He’s supposed to drop by.”

  “For what?”

  “He wants us to build a custom financial risk management tool.”

  “I haven’t talked to Dylan today, so I don’t know.”

  “You’re here because you missed me, aren’t you?”

  She takes a seat in the chair Liz just vacated. “Is that why you haven’t answered a single text or phone call from me since Saturday?”

  “Sorry about that. My phone’s M.I.A., babe. I haven’t seen your messages. But I’m liking the obsessed girlfriend act. You play it well.”

  “Stop joking around.” Vanessa reaches into her purse and pulls out a stack of newspapers. I’m a bit surprised that people still buy these when they can find all the same news on their phone. But I don’t mention that to her, not with the impatient, angered look that forms on her face. She spreads them out on every clear spot on my desk and points at each headline. “Have you seen these?”

  “Not in print, but yes. My staff and some of my relatives have been emailing me about why they had to find out we’re together from the news instead of directly from me.”

  “We’re not together. That’s why I need to ask you, why are you so calm about it?”

  “It’s no big deal. I don’t make a habit of losing my cool over crap the media writes about me. Do you know who tipped them off?”

  “What? Me? How would I know? I came over here to ask you that same question.”

  “Well, I figured it might have been someone you knew. That picture on all the news coverage is from the Wainwright Plaza. No one knew I’d be at that meeting with my uncle.”

  “Maybe they followed you, because it definitely wasn’t me. My face hasn’t been in the media since my grandmother’s funeral more than a decade ago. There wasn’t even a blip when I started working for my mother’s firm.” Vanessa breathes out a long, heavy-hearted sigh and her shoulders slump. “I like my privacy, Liam. In my family, all press is bad press. They haven’t stopped calling my office since the news broke on Saturday. My cell phone has an unlisted number, thank God, but three or four photographers have been camped outside both my condo and the law office.”

  “Have you talk
ed to anyone?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good.”

  “You have no idea what you’ve done. It’s only a matter of time before they’re outside my parents’ house, hounding my dad, or ranting on and on about what his great great grandparents did or didn’t do at the end of the nineteenth century. Half of what they write about him is bullshit, but people eat it up and love to hate him for it.”

  “I’ll repeat it again. I didn’t have anything to do with these. In any case, what they write about your father can’t be any worse than what they say about my old man. Although most of what they write is actually true. In fact, they don’t fucking know the half of it.” That doesn’t seem to reassure her at all. Getting out of my chair, I step over to her and pull her into my arms. “Just ignore it. Trust me, it’ll blow over.”

  13

  Vanessa

  There’s a news media shit storm at my doorstep, my brother can show up here at any time, and yet here I am, allowing Liam to pull me to stand between his legs. Heat spreads out from my core. It defies logic that I can think about sex at a time like this. But anytime Liam’s around, my body physically aches for him. I’m in the wrong outfit to be here. It’ll be way too easy to straddle him, lift up my skirt, drag my panties down my legs, and take what we’re both craving.

  That’s my arousal talking.

  I watch as his eyes blaze a trail up my body to my eyes, then he surprises me by landing his gaze on my locket. He runs a hand up my arm and carefully takes my most treasured piece of jewelry between two tentative fingers, staring at it.

  “You’ve never told me about this.”

  “I wear it a lot.”

  “I noticed. And it anchors you, somehow. Centers you.”

  I nod for two reasons. First, if I say a word, I’ll end up crying. Anytime I talk about Grams, the floodgates open. Second, Liam has never been this observant. It’s as though he’s seeing me for the first time. Taking me in. All of me. Or maybe I’m the one just noticing it now.

  “It’s beautiful on you.” He releases it but lets his fingers rest at the spot on my chest for a moment. I don’t know why, but the fact that he notices the locket does something to me. It brings me closer to him, even if I haven’t shared how much it means to me. He slides his hand up to cup my jaw, and my eyes flutter shut. His touch weakens me. All I can think about now is how much I want his embrace to wrap around me and somehow buffer me from the media frenzy that’s on its way to us.

  This time, I make the first move. Rolling his chair back a bit, I drop to my knees and start to work his zipper. Our eyes lock as his cock springs free from his boxers, never straying until my lips and tongue make contact with the salty bit of precum at the tip. He moans in response to the small sounds that come from the back of my throat each time I lower and lift along his thick shaft, and when I swirl my tongue around his velvety head, his hand buried in my hair, guiding me at the pace and angle that he loves most. Each time he hits the back of my throat, I moan. My panties are drenched from need. I want him to fill me until my inner walls feel that tightness from his massive cock. And when I can’t wait any longer, I look up into his wild, lust-filled eyes. He gives me a nod and uses his hand buried in my hair to pull apart, at which point he tucks his hand under my armpit and hoists me up from my kneeling position.

  Lowering to his lap, I shuck off my suit jacket and begin unbuttoning my shirt. There’s no use fighting what’s between us. And he must agree because he pulls my face to his, crushing our lips together. His hands slide up my hips, and each one grabs a handful of ass as our tongues play. With a firm hold on me and a soft smile against my lips, he picks me up, wraps my legs around his waist, and carries me over to the sofa. There’s a gleam in his eyes as he pulls from the kiss and takes a seat, keeping my body tight to his. That look makes my heart hurt, and my stomach does a flip.

  I have butterflies floating around in my chest for the first time in a long time.

  God, it scares me.

  It thrills me.

  When was the last time I felt this alive? Have I ever?

  And why does it feel like the sex is way more intense as his fake girlfriend than as his real fuck buddy?

  That thought plays on repeat. My eyes snap shut as he drags my panties to one side and positions himself, plunging deep inside me in one sharp motion.

  “Ride me.” He presses his lips to my breast to drive his point and his cock home. Then my hips roll, grind, and jerk, finding our perfect pace. It’s the moves that make my pussy throb and his cock stiffer than any other time. And as he drags me down his shaft over and over again, teasing, tasting, sucking and nipping my breasts, we go over the edge.

  “This is turning into a habit,” I tease, my breath coming in short pants after some time. “If we keep it up, we’ll get caught.”

  “I don’t give two fucks if they do. It’ll serve them right for walking in on me in my office. Plus, no one will dare blame the happy couple for wanting each other all the time.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “And you’re my bad girl. Get back to your office before I take you hard again.”

  14

  Vanessa

  “Good morning,” I reply stiffly the next day.

  Again.

  And again.

  I’ve officially lost count. Coworkers and building tenants greet me on my way from the back entrance of my office building, through to the service elevators only used by maintenance staff, and in the hallways of our law firm on the way to my office. Every one of them has congratulated me or confirmed that they saw me on the news or social media. And I ignore any mention of the same, in favor of a simple acknowledgment that yes, it’s the morning, even if it hasn’t been that good for me.

  The only thing that’s good today is I’ve been able to dodge all the media hounds and paparazzi so far.

  I keep my head down when I stop in the break room to put my packed lunch in the fridge. No way am I going out for meals the rest of this week. Heading the long way to get to my desk, I pass by my mother’s corner office. It’s empty, but that doesn’t mean much. She can be anywhere on the three floors the firm occupies in this building. We haven’t spoken since the news broke, and the jury’s out on how she’ll react. I'm sure she’d have a visceral reaction knowing the firm’s visiting clients can potentially be subjected to harassment by the media circus outside.

  Fuck.

  My head may be on a spike before the day’s up.

  In my haste to hide out in my cubbyhole all day, I turn the next bend and walk right into one of the middle-aged maintenance workers. He’s carrying a step ladder and toolbox.

  “I’m so sorry!” My hands grip his upper arms for a second to stop both of us from falling. “My mistake.”

  “It’s okay, Miss Worthington. I was just leaving your office. The sign’s up, but be careful with the desk drawer handles. I just refit the locks, and they stick a little. I’ll be back after lunch to figure out the problem.”

  “Oh. Uh, can you back up a little? You must be confusing my desk for someone else’s. My desk doesn’t have drawers. It’s a tight space.”

  “No, it’s for your new office.” He points a thumb behind him on the diagonal. “Over there.”

  I look over his shoulder and see the brass nameplate on the door to an office that isn’t mine. It reads, ‘Vanessa Worthington, Associate.’

  What?

  “There must be some mistake.”

  Balancing the step ladder on his shoulder, he pulls out a half-crumpled sheet of paper and holds it out at arm’s length to read it. “I did exactly what my work order says. Just talk to your manager or Anita in the Facilities department. Have a nice day, Ma’am.”

  He heads off, and I stop in front of the newly installed sign.

  A new office and a promotion?

  This change must be an error, but I push open the door to take a look anyway. A girl can dream, right? Fuck, it’s so spacious. And oh my God it has windows
to the outside.

  “You weren’t supposed to see this yet.”

  I whip around and see Mom’s executive assistant walking down the hallway. “Morning, Sharon. It’s not a mistake?”

  “Diane want’s you. She’s in her office.” She gives me a wink. “You may as well leave your things here. She has to be at another meeting in half an hour, so go in and see her now.”

  “Oh. All right.”

  Dropping my file bag on the nearest guest chair, and my purse and coffee on the desk, I go back to Mom’s office. She looks up at me and waves me in from her seat on the sofa, already on a phone call that came in on her smartphone.

  “Sit,” she instructs me after wrapping up the calls. It can’t be good.

  “I'm sorry for this, Diane. I had nothing to do with all this media attention outside.”

  “It’s fine. Those vultures are pretty much always out there. It just happens to be for you this time.”

  “Thanks. I hope they lose interest soon.”

  “Doubtful, but sure, keep hoping.”

  “Have they tried to contact Dad?”

  “Not yet.” Her tone is cold and clipped. I should have known she’d get prickly about anything I ask about my father. “Sharon tells me you saw the office?”

  “Yes.”

  “The promotion letter from HR was supposed to be on my desk last night. Otherwise, I would’ve told you before.”

  “Okay... May I ask why you made an exception and promoted me? Normally Junior Associates have to wait at least a year before they’re considered.”

  “Don’t quote the policy to me, Vanessa. Run with it.”

  “I didn’t mean to come off as rude, Mom.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “But I was just asking because—”

  “If you must know, I made you Associate and assigned you a new space for two reasons. First, we can’t have anyone from the media sneak their way up to this floor and find you in that little office. That wouldn’t play out very well. Second, you earned the title of Associate when you brought in your first new client.”