The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 1)

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Take her out for dinner before you meet to sign this contract. She’s probably nervous as hell. Help ease her worries.”

  Reese’s face pinched. He hadn’t thought about Merina being nervous. He hadn’t really considered her feelings, assuming this would be a deal like any other.

  “She’s a businesswoman with something to gain,” he told his brother. “I think it’s best if we sign first and then meet with my PR person.”

  “PR person?”

  “We need guidance to ensure we convince the press.”

  Tag made a face. “Wow. Are you this clueless about women?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I have a reputation for doing quite well with women.” He pointed at Tag’s phone. “Someone is posting odes to my rocket.”

  “Oh, you’re a pro at hookups,” Tag agreed. “But Merina Van Heusen isn’t going to be a one-nighter you can palm cab money in the morning. She’s going to be your wife.”

  At the word wife, Reese’s breathing went shallow. Of course, marriage and wife went together, but phrased that way, he was reminded of another long-term relationship that hadn’t panned out.

  “It’s a business arrangement,” he reminded them both before he puked. He had this. He didn’t have to fall in love with Merina; he just had to show up at a few public appearances with her.

  “Armande.” Tag stood and snapped his fingers.

  “What about it?” Reese’s neck prickled. Armande was an upscale fusion French/Italian restaurant known for its romantic mood and special menu made up entirely of aphrodisiacs.

  “That’s where your first big date should be.”

  “Armande isn’t exactly subtle,” Reese grumbled. He needed media attention, not overkill.

  “Neither is Reese’s Rocket,” Tag answered.

  “It can’t look like a stunt.”

  “Then I suggest you be convincing. I’ll tell Bobbie to book you for dinner. Tonight good?”

  “Tag—”

  “Tonight it is.” His brother opened one of the office doors. “Trust me, man,” he said, “Armande is the perfect place to introduce the city to your future bride.”

  Even if he didn’t want to do it, maybe a dinner with Merina before they inked the deal wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

  “Bobbie, gorgeous,” Reese heard Tag say as the doors swished shut.

  With a sigh, Reese pressed a button on his cell phone, and regarded Merina’s message again.

  FINE.

  Maybe dinner at Armande would be the best way to ease her concerns. Or maybe, he’d have another publicity nightmare to contend with.

  As long as it wasn’t #ReesesRocket, he was good with that.

  * * *

  Angling around a housekeeper who smiled as she passed with her cart of fluffy white towels, Merina tapped the screen of her ringing phone. THE CRANE HOTEL, the display read.

  Oh, fantastic.

  “Merina Van Heusen.”

  “Ms. Van Heusen, this is Bobbie from Mr. Crane’s office,” came the curt voice. She didn’t wait for Merina to respond before she plowed forward. “Mr. Crane has requested you arrive at his private boardroom for a noon appointment tomorrow.”

  To sign the prenuptial contract, no doubt.

  “Of course,” Merina answered with fake bravado. She heard the sound of a pen scratching on a notepad. The sooner she signed those papers, the sooner she could move on to Phase 2 of “Operation Arranged Marriage.”

  “Also, he has scheduled a dinner with you at nine p.m. this evening at Armande. He’ll send a car to your residence at eight.”

  Merina stopped in the middle of the lobby, realized she was in a guest’s path to his room, and smiled politely before moving to a section of uninhabited chairs off to the side. She noticed Bobbie didn’t ask if she was available for dinner. And Merina didn’t like that at all.

  Partially because she didn’t like conceding control and partially because Reese Crane—her future husband—should be the one doing the asking.

  “Tonight’s no good for me,” Merina clipped. Total lie. She had no plans tonight other than her usual poring over reports and e-mails. Catching up on work over a glass of merlot. “Perhaps if Mr. Crane could call himself, we could find a time that worked for both of us.”

  You know, like normal human beings.

  “Ms. Van Heusen, Armande is the most sought-after restaurant in the city. Securing a reservation is not easy. Many exceptions were made.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but—”

  “The car will be at your house by eight p.m. Do you require a stylist?”

  “No, I do not ‘require a stylist,’” Merina huffed, insulted on too many levels to count. Bobbie was her least favorite person on the planet, second only to her future husband. “I can dress myself.”

  “The restaurant is formal and known for its—”

  “I know what Armande is, Bobbie.” Not because she’d been there, but because it was lauded in the Trib as the premiere place to see and be seen. Especially for couples. Especially for celebrity couples.

  Not that Reese Crane was a celebrity, but he was as close as it came to a local one. And now they’d be seen together in Armande. She could only guess this was part of the “whirlwind romance” ruse. If that was the case, and this was a suggestion by his public relations person, maybe Merina shouldn’t be difficult after all. Evidently six months of biting her tongue started now.

  “Eight o’clock is fine,” she clipped.

  “Nice to hear,” Bobbie said. “I’ll e-mail you a packet of information. Please review it carefully and let me know if you have any questions. Good day, Ms. Van Heusen.”

  And she was gone.

  Merina lowered the phone from her ear in time to see a small envelope icon appear on the screen. An e-mail. That woman was fast. What was she supposed to tell her parents about tonight when a car arrived? I have a date with billionaire Reese Crane. Yes, turns out he loved when I went over there to challenge him. He finds my trucker mouth irresistible.

  Sigh.

  This would be so much easier if she could tell them the truth: that she was marrying to get the Van Heusen Hotel back. That a six-month trade-off would secure her future, and theirs. Granted, the moment her father learned Reese was blackmailing her, he’d take a ball bat to Reese’s gonads. So maybe it was better that she had to lie.

  As much as she hated lying. Deception in general. She thought of Corbin and her lip curled.

  How’d the saying go? You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. A few white lies told over the next half year, and then she could go back to being herself. It was an act. That’s all.

  She’d have to convince her parents, as well as the press, that she and Reese fell in love. Opposites attract? That was one way to go. Enemies to lovers? That was another.

  Still, a ripple of resentment came at how perfect this solution worked out for everyone.

  Suddenly, she sympathized with her parents’ hiding their financial worries from her. They loved her and likely did it to protect her, much in the way Merina was doing this because she loved and wanted to protect them.

  But even with that justification, she was having a hard time forgiving them for hiding this from her for so long. She was an adult; she could handle bad news. Hell, she had handled financial challenges both on a business and a personal scale. Didn’t they trust her?

  Well.

  They would.

  After the divorce, they could relax knowing the Van Heusen Hotel was back in the family’s “portfolio” rather than a square on Crane’s giant Monopoly board.

  At her desk, she wiggled her mouse to wake her sleeping computer and dug into her inbox. At the top was the e-mail from Bobbie: a bullet list of items, including the location of the restaurant, make and model of the car coming to pick her up, and a list of places where Merina might procure a manicure, a dress and shoes, and have her hair styled. The personal care items were marked with an asterisk and at the bottom of
the list she saw its meaning.

  *Each of these services will be billed to Crane Hotels at no cost to you.

  Be still her heart.

  “I’m not having my nails and hair done,” she said to the screen. “And I have great shoes.” Decisively, she closed the e-mail and, for good measure, deleted it. She would agree to the dinner and to the car picking her up, but she knew damn well how to get ready for a date at a nice restaurant. Could Reese Crane be more insulting? More controlling?

  “Goodness. What’s happened to you?”

  Merina looked up to see her mother leaning into the office, her hand resting on the knob of Merina’s open door.

  “You look positively ferocious.”

  “Uh…small overcharge on new linens,” Merina lied, transforming her snarl into a smile. “Nothing a quick phone call won’t fix.”

  “All right, then.” Her mother returned her smile but Merina saw suspicion resting behind it. Lying wasn’t something Merina did on a daily basis, so it was understandable she was bad at it.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” Jolie pushed.

  “Absolutely. Oh, and I’m going to meet Lorelei for dinner, so I may be home later than usual.”

  Chicken.

  “Later than three a.m.?” her mother asked flatly.

  Jolie knew her well. Whenever she and Lore went out, they often stayed out until the last possible minute.

  “No.” Merina closed the window on her computer. “Not later than three a.m.”

  “I have to run an errand. Can I pick you up a latte on my way back?”

  “Sure, Mom. Thanks.”

  “Welcome, sweetheart.” Jolie winked and wiggled her fingers in good-bye and Merina’s heart crushed a little more. Reese was making her run a complete scam on her family and for that, she’d never forgive him. She bit her lip. What had she gotten herself into?

  Look at it like a six-month sentence, but with lots and lots of amenities.

  In the grand scheme of life, six months wasn’t a big deal, but right now, she worried she would feel every agonizing minute.

  Chapter 5

  Armande, located on Ontario Street off the Magnificent Mile, was high profile, difficult to get into, and known for its wealthy clientele. Reese had been here once, a long time ago, on non-romantic business. Tag was more of a regular, making it a point to be seen with his date du jour on occasion.

  Reese didn’t do romance. Dates, yes. Dinners, yes. Charity events, fund-raisers, dinners for work, no problem. He’d attended all of those and more over the years.

  He hadn’t always been jaded. When he was younger, there’d been a girlfriend who he thought might become more. Gwyneth had moved into his mansion, settled in for what he thought was the long haul, and after four years together, left him for someone else. Someone Reese had trusted, his best friend at the time, Hayes Lerner.

  When Reese found out she was cheating, he told her to leave and she tearfully promised to be out in a week. He didn’t spend another second in that house, packing a bag and securing a penthouse suite in his hotel. Thing was, after she did finally move out, he didn’t go back to the mansion.

  The hotel was more convenient, or so he’d told himself. And it wasn’t haunted by ghosts of his past relationships—two of them if you count Hayes.

  Gwyneth had cured him of the need to have a permanent partner. Zero interest, never again. In the quiet, ugly hours when he couldn’t sleep, sometimes he thought her distance had been partially his fault. That he could have been different, better.

  But those thoughts left with the rising of the sun, and by the time he pressed his morning coffee, he reminded himself what he was good at with women: beginnings. The first meeting, the casual dinner, the sex that followed and brought both parties a reprieve from busy lives and busy days.

  A way to have it all. As many new starts as possible without investing years before learning his partner’s interest had deferred to someone else.

  It seemed even that coping mechanism had its flaws. The board didn’t approve of his after-hours activities, and that part of his life could cost him his very legacy.

  Unacceptable.

  Merina was the key to saving that legacy. No chance of her absconding with someone he knew unless she wanted to be sued or lose her hotel. But he couldn’t see her straying. First off, she was nothing like Gwyneth. Merina Van Heusen cared about her family and preserving history. His ex made it clear history meant nothing to her the day she ended what she and Reese had for a guy she’d slept with on a whim.

  Only that whim had turned into marriage. She and Hayes had the audacity to send him an invitation, and Gwyneth had expressed she’d like to “remain friends,” which would have been laughable if he’d been able to feel anything other than deep, dark acrimony.

  Hayes, who had worked for Crane Hotels at the time, was offered a hefty severance package and encouraged to leave. Reese supposed he owed Gwyneth a thank-you for that life lesson. If she’d have stayed with him, he might have settled down with a couple of kids and been happy as a clam in the same management position at Crane he’d held nine years ago.

  He might have ignored his drive and aspirations to become CEO. Being in charge of one of the most recognized brands in the country didn’t allow a lot of time for relationships. If the board could wrangle two or three brain cells together to see things his way, they’d also see that not having relationship entanglements afforded him to work all the hours he wanted. He could stay up as late as he needed and never receive a text asking him to leave early and pick up eggs and milk on his way home.

  Like Mom and Dad.

  At that thought, his stomach clenched. He had nothing but good memories of his mother and father, of their relationship. They were the ideal. But after trying his hand at attaining ideal, Reese saw that ideal wasn’t for everyone. Success didn’t come equally in all factions of life. For him, his success was in business, which, face it, wasn’t a bad area to excel.

  This was better and exactly why their father had never remarried. Alex knew the secret to thriving in business was to stay flexibly single. Reese knew it. Tag knew it. And when Eli returned from overseas and resumed a regular schedule back at Crane, he’d likely follow the same path. It was the family way.

  “Scotch, neat,” came a warm female voice to his left.

  Reese was seated at the bar at Armande awaiting Merina with a full view of the door, so he knew the woman speaking over his shoulder wasn’t her. The voice was a purposeful seductive purr when she addressed him properly.

  “Reese Crane. You never called.”

  No, he wouldn’t have called. He turned his head, meeting eyes with a tall brunette in a simple black dress. Long chestnut hair grazed her shoulders.

  “But I did appreciate the flowers.” Her lips curved to the side in a lazy smile and that’s when her name came to him. Rebecca. They’d met at a fund-raiser for the art museum over the holidays. She worked there. What a perfect example of why he didn’t do more than one date. She was trouble with a capital T if he’d ever seen it.

  “Flowers cover a multitude of sins.” He accepted the scotch from the bartender with a nod. Rebecca raised her glass of wine in cheers and they drank.

  “I have to say,” she said, glancing around the bar, “when we met, I was hoping what the media says about you wasn’t true.”

  God help him if she mentioned his hashtag.

  “I was sure you’d find the time we spent together good enough to warrant a second date.” She swept her hair over her shoulder. With that body and her piercing almond-shaped eyes, Reese hazarded the safe guess that Rebecca hadn’t gone home and cried in her Häagen-Dazs. “But I guess not.”

  “You seem to have landed on your feet,” he said casually, checking the door again. “Who are you here with?”

  He looked back at her in time to see her wide mouth part into a smile. “Busted. I’m here with Arnie Palatino.”

  “Mayor’s son.” He shrugged his mouth. “Not bad.”


  “Yeah, but”—she looked around conspiratorially before leaning in and murmuring in his ear—“he doesn’t have a rocket in his pocket.”

  That explained the renewed interest. Before he could respond, he caught a flash of honeyed hair and red that drew his eyes to the door. Rebecca had started talking again but her voice faded into the din of diners and waitstaff. Everything in the room fell away as his eyes zoomed in on the woman who’d come here to meet him.

  Merina Van Heusen’s dark blond hair was down, one side pushed behind her ear. She wore a classy, simple red dress. It wasn’t skintight but floated seductively over delicate shoulders, flaring at her hips. A subtle V exposed a hint of cleavage, just enough to make his mouth water but not enough to reveal the trace of ink he’d spotted the day she’d come in wearing a see-through wet silk shirt. A long gold necklace with a circle pendant hung between her breasts.

  His mind echoed the reminder business agreement, but his instincts, the ones he trotted out for his dates, recognized her as one hundred percent woman.

  Beside him, he was aware Rebecca had stopped talking. Just as well—they had nothing to say to each other.

  “Excuse me,” he said, standing from the bar. The moment he was on his feet, Merina spotted him. Her eyes cut to the brunette, then back to him.

  He tried to communicate with a subtle headshake. Relax, she’s old business.

  “I guess you’re here with someone too,” Rebecca murmured.

  “I am,” he said. “Thanks for the drink.”

  She lifted her wine in a noncelebratory cheers, a tight, bitter smile on her face. By contrast, Merina Van Heusen was polished. Confident. Decked out in simplicity.

  She straightened her shoulders as he approached, both hands wrapped around a gold clutch. She wore heels—five inches if he had to guess. The added height put her damn near eye to eye with him. Her amber eyes flashed with a mix of animosity and bravery. Just like the first time he met her.