Savor: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel

by Monica Murphy

  Ah well, fuck it. I’d rather think about Bryn.

  But the moment I enter my hotel room I can sense the mood has changed. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed—I gave her a key before we left earlier—her head bent as she scans through something on her phone. Her shoulders are slumped, her hair falling forward and shielding her face. There’s something wrong.

  I can feel it in the air.

  “Hey.” I say, letting the door shut softly behind me. “You all right?”

  She lifts her head, her watery gaze meeting mine, and my heart lurches in my chest. She’s been crying. Why? Over me?

  God, I hope not.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as I rush toward her, and she holds out her phone, averting her head so she doesn’t have to look at me.

  “Read this,” she says, her voice rough with unshed tears.

  I take the phone from her, see that she’s brought up an article from a prominent gossip site. There’s a hazy photo of Bryn and me at the window, her skirt bunched around her waist, white panties on brief display. You’d have to be an idiot not to realize what we’re doing. I’m standing behind her, my hands resting on her hips.

  The headline alone makes my heart drop into my toes:

  Former Baseball Player Matt DeLuca Rounds the Bases With His Secretary!

  “Shit,” I say aloud as I sit heavily on the edge of the mattress right next to her, skimming the article. It goes on about Bryn and me, how she’s worked for me since I took over the winery, and we’ve been having a heated affair for months. The unidentified source talks about our supposed affair and how it will be the eventual demise of my new business venture if I don’t watch it.

  The final nail in the coffin? The source goes on to say I’m just like my father, who’s been embroiled with one scandal after another ever since the beginning of his career with the Oakland A’s:

  “Like father, like son, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Though at least the dad always seems to land on his feet. We’ll see if his son can do the same.”

  “Who the fuck could’ve done this?” I ask grimly, thrusting the phone back toward her. I have my suspicions. I just don’t want to say them out loud yet. “We need to figure out who’s behind every word of this stupid, deceitful article.”

  Her head is still bent, like she can’t stand to look at me. “It’s not lies. It’s the truth.”

  “It wasn’t the truth until last night and that doesn’t count,” I tell her as I pull out my own phone to find a few text messages from Archer and Gage, both of them asking what the hell is going on with the article being blasted all over the place.

  Oh and I have a voicemail from my father. Interesting.

  I refuse to listen to it. Not now, in front of Bryn. I need to keep my emotions under control before I lose it completely.

  I think he might have had a hand in this. The tone of the entire article makes me think he’s behind it. That the article actually mentioned my father multiple times when he hasn’t been in the spotlight in years makes me suspect him.

  “Doesn’t count?” She lifts her head, her angry eyes meeting mine. “Are you saying what happened between us last night doesn’t count?”

  “No. Of course not.” I slowly shake my head, amazed at all the emotion I see blazing in her gaze. “I think—shit, I think my dad could be behind this. God knows when he could’ve tried to first sell this article, probably right after the opening, when you so kindly pushed him out and sent him on his merry way.”

  “I didn’t kindly push him out,” she admits. “He said horrible things and basically accused me of being a slut and sleeping with his son. Oh, and when I grew sick of you, he said I could come and have sex with him any time I wanted. You know, because the two of you are so similar and all.” She lets out an angry little sound that’s a cross between a growl and a squeal. “The man is a pig.”

  Fuck. Tell me all about it. The worst part? He’s my father. And supposedly I’m just like him.

  “He said that to you?” I ask weakly, wincing when she stands to glare down at me, her expression one of pure fury.

  “Yes! He made me feel like the cheap hussy everyone else seems to think I am. And look, we proved him right by having sex.” She throws her arms up in the air. “I’m exactly what everybody says I am. A stupid whore who sleeps her way around, who just falls into bed with her boss because she’s too dumb to know better.”

  I stand, grabbing hold of her shoulders and giving her a little shake. “No. Stop calling yourself such horrible names. You’re nothing like that. We’ve been fighting this and trying to do the right thing for months, Bryn. Months. You didn’t just fall into bed with your boss because you’re too dumb to know better. I hope you came into my bed because you care for me as much as I care for you.”

  Bryn

  I STARE INTO Matt’s eyes, shocked by his words, by his easy defense of me. I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed, upset, embarrassed. At least my name isn’t in the article though, it doesn’t need to be. There’s the photo as proof it’s me. Everyone at the winery will see the article and the picture, and I’ll become a mockery. People in the community will hear the rumors and know I’m the one who’s supposedly having a torrid affair with my boss.

  It’s the type of humiliation I’ve been trying to run from since Brian Fairbanks chased me around his office. I’d kept myself above it all, all these years. Running just ahead so that it never touched me.

  But look at me now, neck deep in a huge scandal, and I have no one to blame but myself.

  “Say something.” Matt gives me another little shake, rattling me out of my thoughts. “I need to know if you’re as invested in this as I am.”

  “Invested in what?” I ask, feeling like I’m in a daze.

  “Invested in us,” he says, his mouth grim, his eyes dark, fathomless. “Tell me. I need to hear you say it.”

  “I-I don’t know how I feel, Matt,” I say truthfully, horrified when I see the devastation cross his face.

  God. I can’t get this sort of thing right no matter how hard I try.

  “So you don’t want to be with me,” he says, his voice dull as he releases his hold on me.

  “I never said that.” I watch as he turns his back on me and runs his hand through his hair, an exasperated little sound escaping him.

  My heart, my entire body aches to go to him. Offer him comfort and let him know we won’t let this stumbling block break us. We can survive this.

  But I don’t know if that’s the truth.

  “I don’t know what I want,” I say when he doesn’t speak. “Last night was . . . it was amazing. One of the best nights of my life, but after seeing this article today and the photo, I don’t know what to think of it. Of us being together. Will we be dealing with this sort of thing for the rest of our relationship? Can we survive this type of scrutiny?” I’m scared not only of the media but of what others might think of us together. His friends, his peers in the industry. I don’t want to bring him down.

  I don’t want to embarrass him.

  He turns to face me, his expression full of confusion and anger and frustration. I feel terrible. I’m the one who’s doing this to him, who’s putting him through all this. “This is a fluke, Bryn. I’m pretty much out of the public eye and have been for over a year. No one cares that I have a winery in the Napa Valley, except for people in the freaking Napa Valley. Otherwise, I’m long forgotten. Some new young ballplayer has taken my place, and I’m fine with it. I’ve moved on. But my dad? He hates that I’m out of the public eye. Hates that he is too. He’s fed the media stories about me for years.”

  “You really think he’s behind this?” I ask incredulously. My grandma may drive me crazy and has heaped on plenty of helpings of tough love, but she would never blatantly sabotage me or spread such lies.

  He grabs his phone, punches a button and holds it to his ear, his expression grim, eyes blazing with anger. He must be listening to his voicemail or something. I
wait nervously, wrapping my arms around my middle, my mind racing.

  What if the photographer took more pictures? What if they release more to the media over the next few days? God, what will that do to us?

  “He left me a message asking if I’d seen the article, sounding like a smug asshole,” Matt says, knocking me from my thoughts. “And hell yes, I do, especially after what you just told me. If he said those kind of things to you, then he could definitely be behind this. I mean, no one else would mention my dad and he just happens to appear in this stupid article. He’s our unidentified source.” He exhales loudly and pushes his fingers through his hair. “Wonder how much the asshole got paid for spreading these lies. I wonder who he got to follow us.”

  “Right. And who knows if any more pictures will show up? I will die if that happens, I swear. I can’t live like this,” I say, my voice soft yet steely while inside my nerves are in absolute chaos. “I can’t do it, Matt.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asks, and I close my eyes, afraid to look at him, scared to see the sadness in his gaze.

  “Having to deal with this sort of thing will wreck my self-esteem, and it’s already pretty wrecked.” I crack open my eyes to find him staring at me, shock written all over his handsome face. “I’ll never be able to escape the shadow of being the home wrecker, the easy girl. The dumb slut who sleeps with her boss because she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do.”

  “But that’s not what we have, Bryn. Can’t you see it? This has nothing to do with me being your boss and you being my assistant. What we have, what we shared last night, is about us being a man and a woman who are attracted to each other.” He pauses, staring at me. “Right?”

  I can only look at him, not sure what to say, how to defend my feelings. They are what they are, and I have no explanation for them. They’re just there. And they’re not about to go away anytime soon. It’s not that easy.

  But I don’t tell him any of that. He wouldn’t understand. He’s wealthy and established and confident in going after what he wants, be it a new career, a new woman—a new whatever.

  Me, on the other hand, I lack confidence. I’m young and broke and striving to make myself better, but every time I think I’ve pushed myself into a better place, I fuck it up somehow and end up taking about forty steps backward.

  Until I’m right back where I started.

  “I don’t know,” I admit softly. “I’m not sure if this can work out.”

  “Bryn.” His voice breaks on my name and the sound breaks my heart. “Don’t do this. Don’t say that.”

  “I was going to give my notice when we returned home,” I blurt out, wanting him to know the truth. “I was going to give you two weeks. Then I was going to pack up all my stuff in boxes, shove it into the back of my Saturn, and drive home to Cactus. My grandma said I can stay with her until I get back on my feet and find a job.”

  Now he looks good and pissed. “You were going to give your notice so you can go back to Cactus? Have you lost your mind?”

  I shrug, angry that he would be so insulting. “I have nothing else holding me here.” It’s a lie. He could hold me here, but I know it wouldn’t work out. And it wouldn’t be what’s best for me. I’d just end up making another mistake and making us both look bad.

  He’s better off without me. And I don’t know if this is true, but I’m probably better off without him too.

  “You have nothing else.” His voice is monotone, the look in his eyes, blank. “So what happened last night doesn’t matter.”

  “Not when it’ll end up hurting us, which it will undoubtedly do.” I approach him but he takes a step back, like he doesn’t want to be near me. “I’m not sure if we’re good for each other,” I admit.

  He stares at me, his mouth set in a grim line. “So you still want to give your notice?”

  Slowly, I nod, ignoring the wave of panic that threatens to consume me at my silent confirmation.

  “Then I accept your notice. You don’t even need to give me two weeks. We’re done.” His voice, his expression, is final, and I swear I want to burst into great, heaving sobs.

  But I don’t. I remain quiet, composed. How, I’m not sure.

  “I think you should try and call and change your flight so you can head home tonight,” he suggests, his voice clipped. “I’ll reimburse you for the change fee which I’m sure will be huge.”

  “Fine. I’ll leave tonight.” I lift my chin, refusing to let him see me down. This was what I wanted after all.

  Wasn’t it?

  Chapter Thirteen

  * * *

  Matt

  Two weeks later

  “YOU ANSWERED.” I rub my jaw, the rasp of stubble prickling across my palm. I haven’t shaved in days, and I’ve slept like shit.

  “You keep calling my damn phone so yeah, I answered,” Dad says, sounding downright hostile. “Whatcha want, son?”

  I want Bryn. I miss her. I hate what happened between us, how easily our tentative relationship was destroyed. Just by a slightly scandalous photo and a few choice words on a bunch of crappy gossip websites.

  Hell, it was a very scandalous photo, leaving Bryn feeling beyond embarrassed. Vulnerable. I’m used to those gossipy sites saying a bunch of lies and spreading rumors. Bryn isn’t.

  I’d been angry when I left New York. Now I’m just . . . miserable. She left. I’m not exactly sure to where, but I know she couldn’t handle being near me another minute longer. Not that I handled our last conversation in New York particularly well. The moment we discovered the article and photo, it all went to hell.

  The most amazing night of my life with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, ruined. Just like that.

  “I want to know why,” I finally say, then pause. Waiting for the answer I’m sure will never really come.

  “Why what?” Oh, doesn’t he sound innocent.

  “You know.” I take a deep breath, trying to keep my anger under control. “Why did you blab to the media? How much did they pay you? Was it worth it? Having those photos of my innocent assistant spread across the Internet?”

  “She didn’t look so innocent in that picture.” Dad has the nerve to chuckle, the bastard.

  I close my eyes, count to five. He’s pushing every one of my buttons, and I’m sure the jackass knows it. “I’m used to this sort of treatment. You can drag my name through the mud. I don’t care. But you don’t bring Bryn into this. She didn’t deserve that sort of public humiliation and you know it.”

  “She humiliated me at your fancy winery party,” he says, his voice full of venom. “Believe what you want but you’ll see what I did was right for you in the long run. You don’t need that silly little tramp dragging you down.”

  His casual confession makes me sick to my stomach. I knew he’d done it. Finally hearing him say it reaffirms I’m about to do the right thing. “Bryn James is the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me and you ruined it. Ruined it with your blabbing to the media. I hope they paid you enough to make this all worth it.”

  “Son, it was completely worth it because it got your name in the public eye again. I bet you’ve seen an uptick in business with the winery, am I right? You don’t want people forgetting you. You’re still important you know. A hero to many. Just like I am too,” Dad says smugly.

  “You’re nobody’s hero, you fucking asshole. I never want to see or talk to you again.” I’m seething. I literally see red, and I pull the phone away from my ear, ready to end the call when I hear his voice.

  “Don’t cut me off too quick, Matt. I’m the last thing you’ve got in this world. And you know it.”

  Not true. I have my friends. Archer and Gage. Ivy and Marina. And if I’m lucky enough, I’ll have Bryn back in my life.

  “I don’t need you,” I murmur into the phone, then end the call.

  I don’t need Vinnie DeLuca at all.

  I definitely need my friends though. And more than anything, I need Bryn.

 
But first, I need to find her.

  “IF I THOUGHT you were bad before, you’ve turned into a complete sullen little girl lately,” Archer says with a shake of his head as I stop at the table he’s sharing with Gage. “I don’t know if this forty-five-days idea was such a good one after all.”

  “It wasn’t. Fuck the forty-five days.” The last thing I’m thinking of is the stupid bet. I settle heavily into a chair, barely looking at the scantily dressed waitress that appears at our table. “Double vodka, straight up. Make it Grey Goose,” I mutter.

  “Anything else for you guys?” The waitress’s voice is bright and cheery. I chance a glance at her, taking in her short skirt, the belly-revealing top that clings to her enormous breasts. I don’t bother looking at her face. From the way she’s dressed, clearly that’s not her intent anyway.

  We’re at a local sports bar known for its spectacularly gorgeous waitstaff, Archer demanding via text I meet him and Gage there for drinks after work. So here I am, miserable and ready to drown my sorrows in booze.

  They’re probably somehow trying to tempt me by having us come here. With the bet extension still on, I’m sure they’re looking for any way to get me to break it. The waitress is mega hot.

  I could give two shits about her. All I want is Bryn.

  “We’re good right now, thanks,” Archer says. His beer bottle is full, as is Gage’s. They’re both looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind, I can feel their eyes on me, but I stare at the table, tapping my fingers against the edge of the wood.

  “Lack of sex has made you grumpy,” Gage starts and I lift my head to glare at him. He shuts up.

  “And angry,” Archer adds. “What gives?”

  Should I tell them? My mood has nothing to do with lack of sex and everything to do with having the best sex of my life with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. The very same woman who exited my life almost two weeks ago.

  The woman I’m in love with but was such a wimp I couldn’t even tell her.