Positively Pricked: A Billionaire Loathing-to-Love Romance

by Sabrina Stark

  Then again, we hadn't yet eaten, so there was still plenty of time.

  Zane, with his usual degree of politeness, was ignoring me as he texted someone on his cell phone. Who he was texting, he didn't say, and I sure as heck didn't ask, even after he claimed – falsely, I might add – that he'd be only a minute.

  That was five minutes ago, not that I was counting.

  Much.

  While he tapped away at his phone, I took another slow look around. Outside our window, light from the setting sun glimmered off the windows of neighboring buildings, making the whole city sparkle and shine, at least to my inexperienced eyes.

  Soon, it would be dark, and I had the whole night ahead of me. During those hours of freedom, I'd been planning to visit Times Square and do as many touristy things as I could.

  In fact, that's where I'd been going when I'd been waylaid, first by Tiffany and then by Zane.

  Talk about bad timing.

  My only good luck was that I'd dressed up. But still, even in a skirt and blouse, I felt seriously outclassed compared to the formal cocktail dresses I saw all around me. And, as far as the men? Every single one of them wore a suit with a tie, except for Zane.

  The dress code, like so many other things, apparently didn't apply to him.

  Go figure.

  If that weren't unfair enough, tie or not, he still looked better than any other guy in the whole place, including Paisley's favorite TV star, who was dining with a stunning redhead a few tables away.

  Across from me, Zane was still texting, looking less enthused with every message he received in return.

  Just great.

  Probably, when he finished – if he finished – I'd be bearing the brunt of whatever news had irritated him. Who knows? Maybe in the end, he'd be telling me to shove off.

  Between texts, he'd ordered a bottle of wine and dinner for both of us – without consulting me, I might add. It was bossy and arrogant, and yes, in a way, almost a relief, as much as I hated to admit it.

  My menu had no prices, and I'd been oddly nervous about ordering the wrong thing, especially because most of the dishes were unfamiliar and written in a script that was so fancy, I could hardly read it.

  I couldn’t imagine why we were here at all, unless he wanted to discuss work – or to prove once again how rude he could be by texting throughout wine, dinner, and dessert, assuming we stuck around that long.

  He'd been lying to Tiffany. Zane and I didn't have plans. And this, as much as anything, made no sense at all. Obviously, he didn't care two bits about sparing her feelings. So, why the lie? And why drag me up here at all?

  Was it just because he could?

  Finally, he finished texting and – holy hell – not only turned off his phone entirely, but said something that caught me off guard. "Sorry about that."

  I blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "Sorry," he repeated, "but it couldn't be helped."

  Wow. Two sorries? Right in a row? From Zane Bennington? I almost didn't know what to say. I glanced around before murmuring, "That's all right."

  He gave me a long, calculating look. "So, you know Tiffany."

  There it was again, a question without a question mark. Funny, I was almost getting used to it.

  I replied, "A little."

  "So what do you know about her?"

  "Not much," I admitted. "It's not like we're best friends or anything."

  Especially now.

  Zane said, "But you're more than acquaintances."

  "I guess." Maybe I was being evasive, but honestly, there wasn't much to say.

  "How about her fiancé?" he said. "The senator. You know him, too?"

  I shook my head. "I've seen him, but that's it."

  "Yeah? Where?"

  I gave a shaky laugh. "Other than in the lobby a few minutes ago?"

  "I'm not talking about tonight," he said. "You saw him before. Where?"

  I bit my lip. I almost didn't want to say, mostly because that whole night had been so incredibly embarrassing. Still, there was no sense in lying about it. "Actually," I said, "it was the night we met. At your party."

  Zane leaned back in his seat, and his mouth tightened. "Uh-huh."

  The way it looked, he wasn't any happier with the recollection than I was.

  Happily, I was spared from saying anything in response, thanks to the appearance of a wine steward, who went the whole ritual of opening the wine and pouring each of us a glass.

  I was excessively grateful, and not only because I could definitely use a drink. The interruption, as short as it was, gave me some time to figure out why I was here.

  At last, I thought I knew.

  Obviously, for whatever reason, Zane wanted to know more about Tiffany and the senator. And, in true Zane fashion, he couldn’t bring himself to wait until tomorrow.

  So here I was, at his beck and call.

  As usual.

  Maybe he'd send me packing the moment he learned whatever it was that he wanted to know. No wonder he hadn't let me order. For all I knew, he didn't plan on letting me stick around long enough to actually eat.

  It would be just like him, too. When the steward left, I couldn't stop myself from tormenting him, at least a little. "So, 'Shove off' huh? Is that your new catch-phrase?"

  To my surprise, he didn't look tormented at all. In fact, he looked almost amused. He gave something like a shrug. "I was trying to be nice."

  Zane Bennington? Nice? That would be a first. And yet, it did make sense in a Zane sort of way. After all, the phrase was a lot nicer than what he usually said to those who irritated him.

  I had to admit, "I guess it is an improvement." I took a sip of my wine and savored its sweetness for a long, drawn-out moment before asking, "So, how do you know Tiffany?"

  Yes, I was being bold, and maybe a little nosy, but the way I saw it, he had it coming. And besides, I was curious. Zane and Tiffany had, after all, been caught doing something at his own party.

  Zane studied me from across the table. His gaze didn't waver as he took a slow drink of his wine and then set down his glass before saying, "How do you think I know her?"

  I felt myself swallow. Intimately.

  But I didn't say it, because even now, I didn't quite have the nerve. So instead, I tried to laugh. "No fair. I asked you first."

  "Yeah? Too bad."

  "Why?" I teased. "Because you're my boss?"

  He shook his head. "Forget that."

  It seemed an odd thing to say. "Forget what? That I work for you?"

  "That's right."

  Now, I was really confused. "Why?"

  "Because I want the truth."

  Was that an insult? I wasn't sure. "Hey, I'm always honest."

  "Maybe," he said. "But honest and unfiltered aren't the same thing."

  "So?"

  "So, I want to know what you're really thinking."

  I almost laughed. "No, you don't."

  "Why?" He leaned toward me across the table and said in a low, compelling voice, "Because you think I'm an asshole?"

  Talk about a loaded question.

  Instinctively, I reached for my glass, but Zane snagged it first. He pulled the glass away and said, "First, answer the question."

  I eyed the glass with a surprising amount of longing. I couldn’t decide if I was annoyed or amused by his cunning move. "Or what?" I asked. "You won't give it back?"

  As an answer, he gave my glass a slow, hypnotic turn, making the liquid swirl enticingly as I watched in stupid fascination.

  It wasn't just the wine that had captured my attention. It was his fingers, long and firm around the stem of the glass. I recalled all those salacious rumors. It wasn't just that he was physically gifted. It was that he made very good use of his gifts – one gift in particular.

  Against all logic, I felt my tongue dart out between my lips, even as I tried to form some sort of protest. He was holding my drink for ransom. I should be irritated. Instead, I was utterly hypnotized.

  In hop
es of breaking the spell, I looked up to meet his eyes.

  Big mistake.

  He wasn't watching the wine at all. He was watching me. And, if I didn't know any better, I might've believed, if only for an instant, that he found me incredibly fascinating, and maybe even beautiful.

  It was official. I was going insane.

  Distracted, I heard myself murmur, "You're not always an asshole." As soon as the words left my lips, I wanted to take them back – not because they were untrue, but rather, because just then, he did something I never would've expected.

  He laughed.

  And just like that, his whole face changed. Gone was the jerk who'd been making my life miserable. And, in his place sat a guy I'd never met. His gaze was warm, and his mouth looked so kissable that I could hardly think.

  On my own lips, I felt the tug of a traitorous grin. "What's so funny?"

  He stopped laughing and leaned forward to say, "If I've gotta explain…" He let his words trail off and once again, leaned back to study me from his side of the table.

  In the process, he'd set down my glass, and I took the opportunity to snatch it up and take a long, desperate drink.

  I needed something to calm my nerves, and for once, it wasn't because he was doing something awful. It was because, in his own personal way, he was drawing me in, making me see him as something more than a jerk, something more than my billionaire boss, and yes, simply, something more.

  And it scared me half to death.

  After all, I'd seen how coldly he treated the women in his life. Even if I hadn't known this all along, my firsthand view of him kicking What's-Her-Name off his private jet would've told me everything that I needed to know.

  He was one of those guys – charming before and a prick after.

  As a relationship type of girl, I'd never experienced that particular dynamic, but I'd heard plenty from my more adventurous friends.

  I couldn't help but think of Tiffany. During our impromptu lunch date however many weeks ago, she'd mentioned that she was meeting up with Zane later on that same night.

  At a hotel.

  It didn't take a genius to figure out what they'd been doing.

  And now, how was Zane treating her?

  Badly.

  Shove off?

  At the time, it seemed rude enough, but now that I thought about it, it was more than rude. It was heartless.

  And yet, it was exactly what I should've expected from the same guy who'd gotten me fired, who'd kicked his cousin out of his family home, and who'd given me way too much grief already.

  I gave a little shake of my head. To think, I'd almost fallen under his spell.

  Idiot.

  Not him.

  Me.

  I felt my gaze narrow as I eyed him across the table. Oh sure, he was gorgeous. And rich. And sexy as hell. But inside, he was as cold as they came.

  Nothing ever ruffled him, and it was easy to see why.

  It was because he had no heart. And if he'd ever had a soul? Well, he'd probably sold it southward a long time ago.

  As if reading something in my eyes, Zane's expression darkened, and an icy chill settled over the table. After a long, intense moment, he said in a low voice, "Whatever you're thinking, you're about to be proven right."

  I felt my eyebrows furrow. Was that a warning? It sure sounded like a warning.

  What was he truly telling me? That he'd seen the way I was looking at him? That he was getting ready to make his move? That I wouldn't be spared from his usual charm-them, fuck-them, dump-them routine?

  Talk about arrogant.

  I made a scoffing sound. "That's what you think."

  Suddenly, I didn't care how sexy he was, or how utterly mesmerized I'd been for those few brief moments. I was no longer charmed. And, whatever he'd been anticipating, it wasn't going to happen, not that he'd outright asked.

  But still, a girl knows, right?

  His gaze shifted to the view outside, and for the briefest instant, I saw an expression that looked an awful lot like regret.

  I gave a mental eye-roll. Regret? Oh, please. Probably, his only regret was that he'd bothered to order wine.

  With a look of grim resignation, he returned his gaze to mine and said something that, once again, caught me off guard. "I'm sorry."

  What was that? Three apologies? All in one night?

  But the truth was, I had no idea what, specifically, he was apologizing for. For being a jerk? Or for making me forget, if only for an instant, that he wasn't a nice person?

  Whatever it was, I wanted to make him say it. I said, "For what?"

  He looked down and closed his eyes for a long moment before saying, "For what's about to happen."

  Chapter 40

  I gave a confused shake of my head. "Why? What's going to happen?"

  As an answer, he pushed back his chair and stood. In a low voice, he said, "You should go."

  I stared up at him. What a total asshole. I tried to laugh, but it came out hard and bitter. "Well, that's nice."

  "No. It's not." His jaw tightened. "And I'm sorry."

  What was that? Apology number four? That had to be some kind of record, especially for Zane.

  I looked down at the table in front of me. On it, I saw silverware for food that hadn't yet arrived, two half-empty wine glasses, and of course, the bottle itself, with plenty of wine remaining.

  Bummer for me, huh? Apparently, I was being dismissed.

  True, I'd been half-expecting it, but it still bothered me more than it should've – not that I had any intention of showing it.

  Instead, I summoned up a stiff smile and got to my feet with as much dignity as I could muster.

  The effort was a total waste. He was paying me zero attention. Instead, he was staring past me, toward the restaurant entrance – or, exit as the case might be.

  Hint taken.

  Jerk.

  I turned away, intending to march off with my head held high. Instead, I nearly collided with a tall, elegant blonde in a long, ice-blue dress.

  I stepped back and somehow managed to mumble, "Sorry."

  Her lips formed a sneer. "You should be."

  Well, this wasn't humiliating or anything.

  All I wanted to do was leave. But at the moment, I couldn’t, not with the woman blocking my path. Nearly desperate now, I backed closer to the table and waited for her to pass.

  But she didn't. Instead, she looked to my chair said, "That's my seat."

  I froze. "What?"

  Suddenly, a dark wall appeared in front of me. The wall was Zane, who'd stepped between us, with his back to me and his front to her.

  In a quiet voice, he said, "I told you, we'd reschedule."

  She gave a mean little laugh. "And I told you that no one 'reschedules' Maven."

  She leaned around Zane and gave me a quick once-over. "Now, run along, sweetie. The important people are talking."

  I felt my gaze narrow. "Important people?"

  But already, she'd disappeared behind Zane. In a breezy voice, she said, "Now that we've cleared that away…" She paused. "Oh come on. You can't seriously be angry."

  Zane said, "Can't I?"

  "No," she said. "And you had plans with me first."

  In a tight voice, he said, "Which I canceled."

  My stomach twisted. Obviously, she was the person he'd been texting.

  I should've known.

  I wasn't sure what I found more revolting – that he'd ditch his date last-minute or that he'd ditch me now.

  And why on Earth was I still standing here? With a sound of disgust, I pushed my way around Zane and began striding toward the exit.

  I'd made it only a few steps when a tug on my wrist made me stop. I looked down to see Zane's hand, encircling my own.

  In a low voice, he said, "Jane. Wait."

  I glanced around. By now, everyone was staring, not that I could blame them. Near our table, Maven stood, eyeing our exchange with blatant satisfaction.

  When she
spotted me looking, she smiled and gave me one of those finger waves – the kind you give when you really want to piss someone off.

  And I was pissed. No. Not just pissed. Royally pissed. I yanked my hand out of Zane's grip and hissed. "Your date's waiting."

  "No," he said. "My date's leaving."

  My thoughts were so jumbled, I wasn't even sure who he meant. Me? Because I was heading toward the door? Or her? Because he was planning to ditch her a second time.

  Either way, I wanted no part of it. I glared up at him. "Thanks for the wine."

  Asshole.

  I didn't say it out loud, but from the look on Zane's face, he got the message loud and clear.

  He leaned closer, "Jane—"

  Behind him, I heard Maven call out in a sing-song voice, "Oh waiter. We'll need a new bottle of wine. And can you clear away this mess?"

  Zane and I hadn't even eaten. There was no mess, at least not at the table. But inside, I felt conflicting emotions swirling and twisting into a toxic brew. Adding salt to the wound, I felt stupid and disheveled in comparison to Maven's cool elegance.

  The way it looked, she was loving every minute of this – the drama, the spectacle, the fun of humiliating someone who wasn't remotely in her league.

  Suddenly, I felt like crying.

  I didn't want to cry, not in front of a crowd, and certainly not in front of Zane.

  Or Maven, for that matter.

  Besides, I told myself, none of this was a big deal. Zane was always a jerk. I was used to it. Or at least, I should be used to it.

  And yet, now I wasn't. I looked back to Zane. As our gazes locked and held, I didn't bother hiding my disgust. Whatever he was feeling, I couldn’t be sure.

  But it wasn't happiness.

  Good.

  I lowered my voice to just a whisper, and said, "Zane, there's something you need to hear."

  He leaned a fraction closer. "What?"

  "Fuck off." And with that, I turned and walked away, pushing my way through the exit. In the distance, I heard Maven laughing as she said, "God, what a drama queen."

  Bitch.

  Outside the confines of the restaurant, I was walking faster now, heading toward the elevators. But when I arrived, a couple was already standing there, waiting for the next elevator down.

  I didn't want to wait. And besides, the thought of breaking down in front of strangers was just too much to bear.