Sinfully Rich: A Steamy Billionaire Box Set

by Vivian Wood

  Heading out of the office, I pass the storage room with its shelves stacked high with boxes of liquor, cups, and napkins. The hallway into the front of the house is narrow; I pass the iPad on the wall that’s supposed to stay charged so that employees can clock in. The charger lies on the floor and the iPad is dead.

  Stooping to plug it back in, I sigh. My head is still fucking aching which isn’t helping things at all. Among the many bad decisions I made in Las Vegas, I regret giving myself a hangover almost as much as getting married.

  When I poke my head around the corner and look down the bar, I don’t immediately see the cause of the crash. I see the gleaming copper-topped bar and the tall bar stools on one side. And on the other I see the bar fridges, the iPads that we use for cash registers, the towering display of liquor bottles…

  And then I spot it. We usually keep our spare stemware and glasses in racks at the far end of the bar. Apparently not only has Bradford broken a glass, he has actually managed to rip one of the racks off the wall and tumble to the ground with it.

  Shit.

  Jogging over to where he is just picking himself up off the floor, I survey the scene critically. “Are you okay? Watch out for all that broken glass, man.”

  Bradford brushes some glass out of his chin-length blond hair, pulling a face. “I’m okay. I just broke five hundred dollars of stemware though. Pulled that rack right out of the wall.” He sighs. “That rack took so much work to put up in the first place. Remember?”

  Looking at where he ripped it off the wall, I nod slowly. “I do. That rack was the first piece of hardware we installed when we bought the place, I think.”

  “Yeah. Aww, memories. We were just babies then.” He purses his lips.

  I chuckle. “It was only three years ago.”

  “Still!” he protests. He shakes his head. “Ugh. Look at this mess, would you?”

  I wave him off. “Go home and change. This place needs a bar manager tonight but I’ll bet that whatever you were doing can wait until tomorrow. I’ll clean up this glass.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks, wrinkling his face up at the mess.

  “Yep.” I wave him off. “Go ahead. I’ll see you at…” I check my watch. “Around six?”

  “Okay. I love you, never change, byeeee!” He manages to squeeze all three of his favorite phrases into a single breath as he disappears into the back hallway.

  If I bring Cate on to work here, will that be a problem? I mean, it’s not ideal — ever since the second time I saw her, I have carried this distaste that I just don’t know how to shake.

  I was driving an SUV packed to the gills with Bradford, Luna, and all the ski gear we would need for the weekend. We pulled up outside Cate’s shabby little house to wait for her to come out. When she finally emerged, she was obviously still in the middle of a full blown fight with her tired-looking mother. Cate stopped and turned on her mom when she was just steps from the SUV.

  I tensed. Cate raised her voice. Her mother just listened, smiled sadly, and then forced a sweater into Cate’s hands. Cate shook her head but she allowed her mom to hug her. I turned away; my own parents couldn’t give a rat’s ass about Luna and I. They were too busy yachting in Greece to pay that kind of attention to us.

  When she got in the car, Cate had the audacity to grumble about her mother being overbearing. God, she had no idea how precious that sort of relationship was. How when I was younger, I dreamed of having parents who cared about me even a little.

  And Cate complained about her parents? No. No way.

  Just like that, my brain jumped tracks. I might not have been nice before, but from then on I stopped pulling my punches. I tried to get Luna to see that she could pick a better friend than Cate, but to no avail.

  So I deal. Or at least I did… until last weekend. How fucking stupid could I be?

  Sighing, I go back to work.

  5

  Luca

  I’m sweeping up the last little bits of glass when a woman’s voice interrupts me. “Did you have an accident here?”

  Stiffening, I look up. There is Madisyn Montgomery herself, looking as good as ever. With skin like rich brown mahogany and a spotless white dress that hugs every curve in just the right places, she looks utterly edible. She’s all smooth legs and toned arms as she takes off her sunglasses.

  It’s too bad that she’s actually toxic.

  My brows hunch. I’m a little bit at a loss for what to say to the woman. She gleefully announced our broken engagement on social media — without even bothering to inform me that we were done.

  I only found out after the fact that she invested a good chunk of the money deposited in our joint account. And by invested, I mean she bought into a pyramid scheme. Not only that, but she bragged to her friends about how I was her personal ATM.

  My fists tighten. Since I found out that bit, I’ve maintained a careful wall of silence, despite the fact that my ego was pretty bruised.

  I end up just saying her name. “Madisyn…” I realize that I probably sound more than a little shocked at seeing her.

  Pull it together, self.

  She looks around the whole bar, putting her sunglasses inside her white leather arm bag. “You’ve redecorated. I like the black and gold motif. It reminds me of my hometown of New Orleans.” She titters, tilting her head and fake cheering. “Go Saints.”

  I frown at her, leaning on my broom. “What are you doing here, Madisyn?”

  She gives me her most saccharine smile. “I came to invite you personally.”

  She’s playing a game. One where she holds the answers and she expects me to puzzle them out of her. I’m definitely not in the fucking mood for this.

  “You have ten seconds to tell me what you are fucking talking about, Syn.” I rest the broom against the bar. “I’m still pissed at you for ending things like you did, by the way. And I would love to get the fifteen grand you owe me, by the way”

  Madisyn has the decency to blush at that. “I’m sorry about that. Not the money, but the engagement ending. I’m especially sorry about announcing it on Instagram first. I just didn’t want the news to get out before I told people.”

  I speak the language of Madisyn. What she means by that is she wanted the likes that poured in from all our friends when she declared us over. I narrow my eyes.

  “Five seconds, Syn.”

  She rolls her eyes and shifts back and forth on her stilettos. “Okay! Okay.” She fishes something out of her purse and hands it to me. I accept the plain piece of card stock from her, turning it over to read the calligraphy.

  “Save The Date,” I read. I glance up at her, my brow drawing down. “Mr. Reginald Jackson and Miss Madisyn Montgomery would like you to reserve March 14th for their wedding day—“

  I glance up at her again, confused. She pets her long dark hair and purses her lips, the look in her eyes saying eat your heart out.

  “Syn, what the fuck is this?” I ask.

  She smiles haughtily. “Reggie asked me to marry him and I said yes. I thought that you would prefer to be told in person. Apparently you like to be told big news.” She gives a pouty little shrug.

  “I was under the impression that we weren’t done,” I growl. “That’s the pattern. You leave, you make a big deal about it on social media, then you sneak back in. I just deal with the blower to finances and social esteem. It’s been that way for four years, Madisyn.”

  Syn flutters her eyelashes. “Well, this is me, telling you. It’s final this time. I’m really with Reggie. Look.” She flashes an enormous diamond ring at me, looking proud. “It’s two carats and princess cut, because Reggie says I’m his queen.”

  It takes everything in me not to ball up the save the date invitation and throw it back in her smug face. “I see,” I say, jaw clenched.

  I expect to feel anger. After all, anger and disappointment are the usual breakup feelings. But instead I feel a weary sort of relief.

  Dating Madisyn was like going to a theme par
k. It was exciting for a while to ride the rollercoasters and eat the junk food, but after a couple of years, I just feel queasy and sunburned.

  As she gushes about her new man, all excited to have something to rub in my face, I just sort of feel bad for whoever she fooled into proposing to her so soon.

  “It’s only a month and a half away, because we are just so excited to tie the knot. Don’t worry, though…” she says, her expression indulgent. “I made Reggie agree that we were going to invite you. We’ll even throw in a plus one… not that you’ll need it, probably…”

  A thought occurs to me. It’s maybe not the best idea I’ve ever had, but standing there in a staring contest with Madisyn, it seems better than just taking whatever she hands me.

  “I will need it,” I say, showing her my teeth when I smile. “I’ll need a seat right by my side. Where else would my wife sit?”

  I swear, Syn’s smugness drops away faster than an atomic bomb. “Come again?”

  “My wife, Cate?” I speak slowly to antagonize Madisyn. “You do know that I got married, don’t you?”

  “I—“ She shakes her head, looking chagrined. “No. I hadn’t heard.”

  My smile curls into a grin. “Well, we’ve been playing it very low key. Anyway, I will need that plus one, okay?”

  “Oh… okay…” Madisyn seems to shake off her stupor. “Well… I should probably get back to Reggie. He likes to know where I am.”

  “Uh huh.” I’ll just bet he would love to know his future wife is here, rubbing her upcoming nuptials in my face. “Sounds good. I’ve got this save the date so…”

  She gives me the most fake smile ever and then practically bolts out of the bar. I watch her go, grinning.

  That is, until I realize that Cate didn’t exactly agree to me using her as a pawn in my war against my former fiancée. In fact, Cate didn’t agree to my telling Madisyn that we got married.

  Oops.

  Maybe if I make a fuss over things, it’ll take a couple of months for our annulment to go through. Or maybe I can convince Cate to help me.

  It’s unlikely, given that we pretty much hate each other. But it can’t hurt to propose the idea to her… even if I never proposed the actual marriage.

  I shake my head and go back to sweeping, puzzling over how I’m going to talk to Cate about it tomorrow.

  6

  Cate

  When my alarm clock goes off, I’m already awake. I reach over and silence it with a slap of my hand to the plastic case. Groaning, I sit up, disturbing no less than three cats and one very large Doberman. They all stretch, the Doberman whining when I move a cat closer to her and get out of my tiny twin bed.

  “Don’t start with me today,” I tell her. “I can’t be late to work, not even for more pets. Although if I just didn’t go, my quality of life would probably be better…”

  My job absolutely sucks. Not only do I sort of hate being forced to smile as I make coffee, but three people quit last week so I was forced to do the work of multiple people for the same pay. I also had to trade shifts with everyone that still works at the shop to even get the weekend off, making all kinds of deals with the devil.

  “Work sucks,” I say. “Then you die. Hopefully you get to buy a house first but there are no guarantees. Right, Shaggy?”

  Shaggy whines and shoves her head under my hands.

  I scratch her behind an ear and then turn to the other twin bed. Carmine, my seventy seven year old Italian roommate, is already long gone. He made his bed neatly, but the two dogs and one cat sleeping on it don’t care. They probably made themselves at home as soon as Carmine left.

  Getting together my shower tote, a clean-ish towel, and my shower flip flops, I shuffle down the hallway toward the bathroom. My grandma is sitting outside the bathroom, waiting in her floral bathrobe.

  “Ernest is taking forever!” she shouts at the closed door. She rolls her eyes and looks at me. “Hello, darling.”

  “Hi Grandma,” I say, juggling my towel and my tote. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t even ask if the shower downstairs is free?”

  “Ha!” She shakes her head. “Do you think I would be up here in line for the smaller bathroom if there weren’t three people in line for the downstairs one?”

  I nod. “That figures.”

  Her face softens and she reaches over, smoothing my hair. “How was your vacation, my dearest?”

  Bobbing my head, I squint at her. She’s exactly the same height as me, same texture hair, same lithe frame. Looking at my mother’s mother is like looking in a magical mirror that shows exactly what I’ll look like some day.

  “It was fine, Grandma. Although I think I do have a hangover still.”

  Her eyebrows lift. “Still? It’s Tuesday!”

  “I know. I drank half the alcohol on planet Earth, I’m pretty sure.” And got married, but I don’t feel the need to share that fact. Especially not since I’m pretty sure that Luca will move heaven and earth in order to not be tied to me in that way…

  Grandma cocks her head. “Well, I suppose you were due for a weekend away, weren’t you? You’re always busy working or tutoring or volunteering… That’s all quite important, but it’s fun to spoil yourself for a weekend.”

  My face heats. “Well, consider that done.”

  My grandmother smiles, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, well. I’ve tried to finish the work your parents started as best I can. They did such a good job raising you.”

  I press her hand. “It’s okay. When they died, you took me in. Here you were, a woman who thought that she had outlived her child bearing years—”

  Her lips lift. “Having you move into this commune of a house was maybe not the wisest choice for someone that recently lost their parents. But it is what I have to offer.”

  I smile. “Hey, if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve roomed with someone like Carmine. It’s been interesting if nothing else.”

  “Unfortunately, in having you live as I do, I’m afraid I’ve instilled some of my tendencies in you. Your parents would probably not be terribly glad.”

  I don’t feel like talking about my parents with anyone, not even my grandma. When they died in an auto accident during my first semester in college, I had a choice: spend forever crying miserably, or pack up my tears and stuff my sadness deep down inside.

  I chose the option that allowed me to carry on living. I stitched my heart up and guard myself at all times because…

  Well, it’s better to live a life without love than to lose someone I truly care for. Of that, I am certain.

  Giving my grandma a stiff smile, I touch her shoulder softly. “You did great. I’m going to be late for work if I don’t hurry. I guess I’ll skip the shower this morning.”

  “Whatever you think, my dear.” She returns my smile and then picks up a section of the paper, putting it close to her face in order to make out that small print.

  Wandering back down the hall to my bedroom, I lock the door and start changing clothes. A blue skirt, yellow knee socks, a matching yellow shirt, and a darker blue cardigan. For a second, I am reminded of the black dress I wore in Las Vegas. After wearing that for a night, it feels like all my other clothes are dull and ordinary.

  After another second, I switch the yellow socks and shirt for a light pink camisole. I know it’s not a big deal for some people, but for me I’ve made a huge change to my wardrobe.

  My orange tabby Lyra appears from beneath my bed, chirping for attention. Scratching her under her chin, I check my phone. I have a text from Luna waiting.

  Feb 2nd, The Seattle Stadium, Billie Eilish. Should I snag us tix?

  Rather than replying right away, I put my phone down. I can’t afford to see Billie Eilish, but I also don’t want Luna to just buy me a ticket. Luna’s family are so wealthy that they have a Swiss ski chalet and houses sprinkled across the States. Even back when my family was alive, I usually watched her family go on their yachting trips and getting a new Mercedes when they had a bir
thday. I’ve never had that kind of wealth, nor wanted it.

  And after my parents died, I was left with my grandma and precious little else. So I have to really put my foot down with Luna, because of the house.

  I go over to my bedside table, lifting the lid on my mahogany jewelry box. I pull out two pieces of paper: one a worn photograph and the other a full sized sheet of paper that has been unfolded and refolded so many times that it’s falling apart.

  In the photo, my parents hug me, an unremarkable little one story house in the background. I unfold the sheet of paper, which is from the realtor. There lies an updated version of the house, quaint ivy overgrowing the tan brick façade. It had to be sold when my parents died…

  But one day, I’ll get it back. I smooth the little bend lines at the corner of the photograph, briefly running my fingers over my family. I already have eighteen thousand dollars saved up toward the down payment.

  So while seeing Billie Eilish sounds great, owning my family home sounds even better than that. And I know that Luna would buy the tickets without even thinking twice because she’s gracious like that, but I don’t want her to.

  Heading over to the door, I unlock it again. Carmine is really only particular about one thing, and that’s having access to his space. Which is fair, everything considered.

  I pick up my phone, unsure what I’m going to say to Luna. Can I just be frank and honest with her? That shouldn’t hurt her feelings, right?

  As I am wondering just what to write, my phone rings. It’s my manager from work Javier, and he’s video calling me. That’s very weird. Javier pretty flatly dislikes me. Why would he call me? Is it a pocket dial?

  Taking a huge breath, I answer the phone. “Hello?”

  Javier's scowling face appears on the screen. “Cate. You are late. Again.”

  I screw up my face. “I switched with Dawn. Remember, you signed off on it?”

  “Dawn got fired yesterday,” he says, a satisfied look on his face. “So any deals you might have made with her are null and void.”