LOVING LEX: A Billionaire Romance (NIGHT OF THE KINGS SERIES Book 6)

by Shayne Ford

  “Good. Is that why you called me?” I ask, grinning.

  He purses his lips and sets his phone on the desk, his eyes glinting with a mysterious smile.

  “No,” he says, and pushes his phone to me.

  A group picture is on display.

  “It’s about your girl,” he says as he lights up a cigarette and leans back against his chair. “You said she’s in California.”

  I lift my gaze to him.

  “That’s where she was the last time I saw her.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  We lock eyes.

  He tilts his head back and takes a drag off his cigarette, his eyes narrowing behind the veil of smoke.

  He blows it to the side.

  “Take a look,” he says, pointing to the phone.

  I lean forward and snatch it off the desk. I flip it and check the snapshot.

  “What is this?” I ask, my chest hurting.

  “A business convention in Strasbourg.”

  “What the hell was she doing there?”

  “Go to the next one.”

  I swipe my thumb across.

  A close-up fills my view. It’s a business dinner in an elegant, event room. I recognize some of the people we’ve done business with before. The camera captures Dahlia’s profile and silhouette.

  She wears a black lace dress that looks stunning on her body. Her hair waves down her back. She smiles and shakes hands with an older woman dress in a red evening gown.

  The woman’s husband has his gaze pinned on Dahlia as well. And then a man catches my eye. Tall, and dark-haired. Dressed in a tuxedo that looks sharp on him.

  “I’ll be damned. Ashton fucking Blackmore?”

  I check the first picture again. Dahlia and Ashton are part of a group of people. He smiles at her, and she grins at him. I scroll down for more pictures, and I get more close ups. Them at the table. And then, them dancing and talking to the guests.

  My blood starts boiling.

  “What the fuck is this?” I ask. “Who sent you the pictures?”

  “Gavin Livingston.”

  I flick my eyes to him.

  “He was quite surprised to see her there,” James says. “He was a guest at that convention as well, and sent me a bunch of pictures, including hers.”

  I toss his phone on the table.

  “Why is she there?”

  “She works for Blackmore.”

  My blood drains out of my body.

  I yank my own phone from my pocket, slide my finger across the screen and call Sheila.

  She answers on the second ring.

  “Has anyone called to check Dahlia Fox’s employment references?”

  “Um, yeah... About three weeks ago. Why?”

  “Who was it?”

  “Blackmore Enterprises. The Hotel Chain. Why?”

  “Do you know what kind of job?”

  “Executive Assistant.”

  “For?”

  “Ashton Blackmore. Why?”

  “Nothing. Thanks.”

  I grit my teeth and shove my phone into my pocket, running a tense hand through my hair.

  Slowly, I let out a long exhale.

  “I can’t fucking believe this,” I say, shaking my head.

  “What?”

  I shift my gaze to him.

  “She knew about the job when I talked to her in San Francisco. She didn’t say a damn thing to me.”

  “You think she lied about everything else?”

  I shrug.

  “I have no fucking idea. She didn’t tell me a good chunk of truth, and now I know why. She gave me all that crap about her not being able to come back because she felt hurt by how she felt for me. And here she is now with Blackmore. Having no problem whatsoever. No longer hurting, and having a great time as if she’s never said those words to me. As if she and I never happened. And I really believed her,” I say and pause, realizing that my voice is getting hoarse with emotion.

  I let out a sad chuckle.

  “She gave me the typical bunch of crap,” I say, running my fingers through my hair again. “Now I know why I stayed away from this kind of woman for so long. It’s not fucking worth it,” I say, frustrated, my voice drowning in anger.

  I sweep his phone off the desk again and check the pictures. More snapshots come into my view. They are captured together in every single one of them.

  “Are they fucking joined at the hip?” I growl, pissed.

  My eyes linger on her, one particular photograph catching my eye. A portrait showcasing her beautiful face.

  I desperately look for a trace of emotion, sadness, the glistening of a tear... something, anything reminiscent of that day in San Francisco when she cried in front of me and confessed her feelings.

  There’s nothing I can find. As if that day has never happened. Nothing on her face or in her eyes speaks of her feelings for me.

  A bittersweet smile clings to my lips.

  “I got what I deserve,” I say, slowly shaking my head, still grappling with disbelief.

  “I don’t think he’s fucking her,” he says bluntly.

  I flick my eyes to him.

  He clicks his tongue and sways his head side to side.

  “Nah-uh. I know Blackmore. He doesn’t waste his time with women. He fucks them and drops them. No matter how beautiful or hot they are. He gets bored easily.”

  He lets out a stream of smoke before he points to the phone with the fingers holding his cigarette.

  “All that smiling, being all protective with her and shit, tells me he didn’t get to her.”

  “And how is that better?”

  He laughs wolfishly.

  “I’m not saying that it’s better. All I’m saying is that she may be still yours.”

  “I think I exhausted that possibility three weeks ago in San Francisco. She couldn’t be clearer than that.”

  “Hmm...” he mutters, playing with his metallic lighter. “But she’s in love with you.”

  “She says she hurts when she gets close to me.”

  He laughs softly.

  “Same thing.”

  “You have a way of saying things, Sexton.”

  “It’s fucking true,” he says, smirking. “Let’s say what she told you was right. She sure doesn’t hurt now.”

  I can’t agree more, but his logic escapes me.

  “Because she’s with Blackmore,” I say.

  “She works for him.”

  I let out a soft chuckle.

  “And she worked for me too. In more ways than one.”

  He picks up the phone and studies the pictures, musing over something.

  “Ashton is not a rookie when it comes to women, and you can tell he likes her. If there’s anything cock blocking him right now is the memory of you etched on her brain.”

  He shifts his eyes to me, no longer smiling.

  “If she hurts when she gets close to you, she sure feels deeply for you. That kind of feeling doesn't go away easily. And if she loves you, you should be able to tell and be able to breathe life into that feeling again. That sweet pain can morph into passion in no time if you know how to pull her back to you. And you sure know how to do that,” he says, putting his cigarette out and leaning back in his chair.

  Our eyes lock for a few more moments before I fish my phone out of my pocket. I sift through numbers and make a call.

  “What’s up, Connor?” I say.

  James’ eyebrows flick up.

  “Hey, man,” Connor says, gushing. “I never thought I’d hear from you again,” he says.

  “I’ve been busy,” I say as James and I share a smile. “Listen, I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Not on the phone.”

  “It’s something bad?”

  “Nope. I just want to talk to you in private. And if all possible I don’t want the girls to know.”

  “Sure, man. What do you have in mind?”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Uh-huh.”


  “I’ll pick you up. Half an hour.”

  “Cool, man.’’

  I hang up and tuck my phone in my pocket.

  James cocks an eyebrow.

  “Who the hell was that?”

  I grin.

  “My snitch.”

  LEX

  It takes Junior a few minutes to chill and settle in his seat after he’s unabashedly swooning over my car.

  “Love it, man. Mine is black too,” he says grinning, and playing with his seatbelt.

  He finally adjusts it and stretches his legs, and then he looks at me with the same kind of admiration he has for my car.

  I push back a smile. I wish I were more like him when I was his age.

  “Hungry?” I ask.

  He glances at me, distracted. The man has the attention span of a ladybug in the mating season.

  “Um... Yeah, I can eat.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  His eyes glint with a smile.

  “I’m a hamburger guy.”

  I give him a side glance before I take a left and head back to the Casino.

  Forty minutes later, we sit in a private booth on the first floor of the main restaurant. He starts eating while I sip my espresso.

  From time to time, he glances at me.

  “So...” I say as he finishes up eating.

  His hand shoots up.

  I stop, and he swallows the last bite before he runs a napkin over his lips.

  “Listen, man... I know why we’re here.”

  “You do?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He takes a swig of soda.

  “I was wondering when you were gonna call...” he says, and I can’t help but grin.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I never heard from you when you came back from San Francisco.”

  “How do you know I was in San Francisco? She told you?”

  He shakes his head.

  “That’s what I would’ve done,” he says, smiling.

  I study him with increased interest.

  “It didn’t work out, did it?” he says, leaning back against his seat, and tossing the napkin on the table.

  My gaze sweeps his collarbones and then the line of his wide shoulders.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because she left,” he says, grinning warmly.

  More and more, he feels to me like the little brother I have never had.

  “You think she left because of me?” I probe him.

  He searches my eyes for a moment.

  “You didn’t give her a reason to stay,” he says.

  Hmm... The kid really has it down.

  “How come you know so much about women?”

  He smiles cockily.

  “I like them. I know everything about the things that I like. Computers, cars, and women. How do you think I stole Elsa from my brother?”

  My lips tilt with a smile.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah...”

  He shifts in his seat, leans forward and rests his elbows on the table.

  “Why did you do it?” I ask, charmed by his sincerity.

  He gives me a cheeky grin and sets his eyes on his soda.

  “For one, I like her...”

  “And?”

  He swings his gaze to me.

  “And I don’t like him,” he says.

  “He’s your brother.”

  A cloud darkens his eyes. His smile dies out as his gaze slants back to the table.

  “He is, but he never cared much for me. You spent more time talking to me and listening to me than he did,” he says humbly, and I really start to like him.

  “Anyway,” he says with a different voice, pushing his emotion back. “It wasn’t only that. He never treated her right.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He was always bullying her into doing things the way he wanted. That’s not how women work.”

  I smile.

  “How do they work?”

  “I don’t know how most of them work, but the ones I like don’t want a leash. You have to give them space and nurture them. You have to keep an eye on them, but never suffocate them.”

  “What if you hurt them?”

  He locks my eyes for a moment as he muses over something.

  “It’s easy to hurt them if they’re in love. That’s why you have to know when to pull back. They’re like flowers. They need space and the sun to blossom, and you can’t step on them. You have to shield them from wind and rain. My brother thought that telling Elsa what to do with her life was a way to protect her. It wasn’t. It drove her away from him, and in the end, all he had accomplished was to reveal his insecurities.”

  Hmm.

  “You know Elsa danced for me,” I say, curious to see his reaction.

  He gets paler for a moment.

  “I know...” he says. “She told me. It’s no big deal man,” he says, and I sense a tremor in his voice.

  He pins his gaze to the table.

  “Are you sure?” I challenge him.

  He flicks his eyes up.

  “Is she dancing now?” he asks.

  My lips curve into a slow grin.

  “I guess not.”

  He smiles.

  “Exactly. Everything he wanted to impose on her has never worked. And here she is, she’s done it on her own eventually. I never told her not to dance in that place. You think I liked it? No way in hell. I’m hot-blooded. I don’t want her close to other men, but I knew I’d never have her if I tried to force her to come to me the way I wanted her to. I saw what my brother did to her and how he had ruined his relationship with her, so I learned. I didn’t want to be stupid like him. Women are not stupid, man. They’ll give you what you want, but it has to be in their own terms. If you’re smart, you have to make it look as if you have nothing to do with it.”

  I chuckle softly.

  “You’re really good at this, Connor,” I say.

  His face brightens with another smile.

  “I’m trying, man.”

  He looks down again.

  “So anyway, back to Dahlia,” I say.

  He raises his eyes.

  “She talked to Elsa a few days ago,” he says and pauses.

  I wait.

  “And?”

  “This is one of those things...” he says.

  “What things?” I ask impatiently.

  “You know she got a job and moved overseas.”

  “Mmm-hmm...”

  “And she has this new boss,” he says, suddenly running his gaze over my hair. “He’s like you. Only the dark-haired version of you.”

  “Okay,” I say deadpan.

  “He’s rich as fuck––”

  “Get to the point, Connor.”

  “She does everything she can to forget you... And by everything I mean him.”

  I bite my lip.

  Was James wrong? Am I?

  I thought the memory of me kept Blackmore away from her. What if the kid is right, and in fact, it puts Dahlia in his bed?

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “She travels with him...” he says.

  “Uh-huh...”

  “Nice places. Rome, Paris. They stay in nice hotels,” he says and pauses again.

  “Go on.”

  His eyes stay on me for a moment before he shifts his focus to his soda.

  “They were in Venice last week.”

  “Got it. And?”

  “The guy uses the heavy ammunition on her. Romance, and stuff. Great memories. He takes her to the most beautiful places. And you know how much she loves to travel. He does that because of her, and she encourages him because of you.”

  I don’t like the sound of that.

  “What makes you think she doesn’t like him?”

  “Oh, she does. She talks a lot about him on the phone, but she probably can’t go past you, and that’s why she drags it with him as much as she can. Trust me, when they really like you, all they need
is you and a bed. Sometimes a wall would do,” he says, smiling slyly.

  I bite my lip, amused.

  “You know where she lives?”

  “I do,” he says promptly. “I can give you her address.”

  I dip my eyes to the table.

  “Done?” I ask.

  “Uh-huh.”

  I check the time.

  “Okay then. Let’s get going,” I say pushing to my feet.

  His gaze follows me.

  I toss my car keys in front of him.

  “You drive,” I say, and his face beams with a smile.

  8

  DAHLIA, London

  The business dinner is in one of the Blackmore hotels not far from where I live.

  After careful deliberation, I choose a simple, form fitting black dress that stops above the knees. I brush my hair and throw a couple of glances in the mirror, debating whether to pull it up or not.

  Eventually, I decide to go for my signature chignon. Deftly, I gather all my hair in one hand and twist it in a tight bun.

  Thirty minutes to eight, I shrug a light jacket on, grab my purse and my phone and walk out of my flat.

  It’s a lovely September evening. The crisp air fills my lungs. It already smells like fall. The streets have become animated with people taking a stroll and couples rushing into the restaurants lining the sidewalks.

  The concierge clerk directs me to the event room as soon as I walk into the hotel lobby.

  Ashton Blackmore greets me with a smile the moment I set foot into the ballroom. His confident grin tells me he knows exactly how handsome he is.

  The man is also textbook charming.

  In the few weeks I’ve been working for him, I’ve never seen him with a steady woman. And tonight is no exception. That’s not to say there isn’t a trail of broken hearts wherever we go.

  I’ve heard stories, and I even spotted some of these women. Detecting them is easy. The moment they lay their eyes on him they lose focus and cannot breathe.

  Some of them are players like him, and they try to set him up. Make him jealous, or seduce him. It never works. The man is a master of this game.

  His behavior toward me is without reproach, although I know he likes me. He keeps his distance, yet all the signs are there, but I’m not a fool. I served this dish once and got burned.

  I get settled next to him at the table, and he smoothly introduces me to his guests. The scope of this dinner is to attract more business investors so that he can expand Blackmore Enterprises.