His Beautiful Revenge: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Michelle Love

  “For the love of god!” Roman got up, frustrated, then realized that the traumatized woman probably didn’t need him yelling at her. Kym was frozen and Roman’s conscience pricked.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Bay’s really going to be okay?”

  Roman smiled. “You bet she is.”

  A police car pulled into the lot then and Roman stood and went to greet the officers. Kym shivered, her entire body aching from stress and from Stu’s beatings. If the police had any doubt that it had been self-defense, she thought, they’d only need look at her bruised and battered body. Bruised and battered, but still alive—still breathing.

  Kym let out a long breath as Roman and the officers came over to her. Come on, baby girl, she willed Bay silently. Keep getting better. We’re survivors, you and me, it’s what we do. It’s always what we do. I love you.

  I’m sorry.

  Tom met Shae as she came back to the hospital the following morning. She smiled at him.

  “Hey …Bay’s being released today. Did she tell you? Of course she told you. Stupid question.”

  He walked with her into the hospital. “Looking forward to getting her home.”

  Shae pressed the call button for the elevator and grinned at him. “Now you know the drill. No sexy shenanigans until the doctor says so.”

  She meant it as a joke, but then flinched. The memory of that day in the supply closet with Otis was still fresh. The day she had left him. Tom, luckily, didn’t notice.

  “I need to ask your advice.”

  Shae looked surprised. “Go for it.”

  “Roman found Kym. She’s okay.”

  “Oh, Tom, I’m so glad. That’s wonderful news.”

  Tom nodded. “It is. Just …Kym isn’t coming back to Seattle. She doesn’t want to see Bay. Roman says she’s adamant. He thinks she feels guilty.”

  Shae sighed. “The victim blaming themselves. Jesus, the things people do to each other. What does Bay say?”

  “That’s it. I haven’t told her. Not that part. I’ve told her Kym’s safe, of course. Should I tell her the whole truth?”

  Shae didn’t hesitate, nodding. “Kym’s absence, whether voluntary or not, impacts the band. Bay and Pete need to know if they need to replace her; it’s their life too. Of course you should tell her.”

  Shae listened as Tom relayed Kym’s decision to Bay. Bay was calm, just nodding. “That’s her prerogative.” Tom and Shae looked at each other, surprised.

  Bay stuffed the remainder of her possessions in her bag, then smiled at Shae, going to hug her. “You better stay in touch, doc. Thank you for everything, Shae. I mean it.”

  Shae hugged her back. “I’ll call. I promise.”

  Bay started to let her go, then hesitated. “Give him a chance, Shae. He really is wonderful under all that surface sheen. Don’t waste love; you never know when it’s too late. Believe me. You both deserve to be happy.”

  Shae gave her a half smile.

  Otis knocked on the door. “You ready to go?”

  Bay beamed at him. “All discharged. Thank you, Otis, for everything.”

  Tom grabbed her bag. “Come on, I’ve been waiting too long to take you home, woman.”

  Bay grabbed Shae’s hand. “You’ll come to the wedding?”

  Shae nodded, not looking at Otis. “Try and keep me away.”

  Bay winked at Otis. “Well, we’ll leave you to alone to discuss …surgical instruments. Supply closets. That sort of thing.”

  She dragged a grinning Tom out of the door and closed it behind her before reopening it and sticking her head back in. “Nurses are chatty and closets aren’t soundproofed.” She giggled and shut the door.

  Tom took her hand. “That was subtle.”

  “Well, I have a new lease on life. And they’re crazy about each other, so screw subtlety.”

  Tom shook his head, laughing. “God, I love you, you lunatic.”

  He helped her into his car, then threw her bags in the trunk. Slipping into the driver’s seat, he leaned over to kiss her. “Let’s go home, baby, and worry about this couple right here.”

  She kissed him back. “No more worry and no more pain. Just love.”

  “I’m gonna marry you, woman.”

  “You bet your ass you are.”

  Shae looked down at her hands. Something was making her stay in the empty room with the man she was crazy about but who she had rejected. This is one messed up situation.

  Otis cleared his throat. “So …I have a total joint reconstruction at two. Want to scrub in?”

  Shae smiled gratefully, glad he was keeping his tone light and professional but friendly. “Love to. Complicated?”

  “Routine, but we can have some fun. Surgery is always fun.”

  She laughed. “Is this you trying to be carefree?”

  “Is it working?”

  “It’s kind of weird, but yes.”

  Otis nodded to the door. “Come help me organize tomorrow’s surgeries, would you?”

  She followed him out into the hall and down to his office. As they walked, she caught the scent of his soap, woody and fresh. She breathed the scent in deeply as he reached past her to open the office door.

  Before he opened it, he paused and looked at her, his face an inch from hers. Her breath caught as she gazed into his eyes.

  “Shae …”

  “Sssh,” she whispered. “Don’t spoil this moment by talking.”

  Otis smiled, but stayed silent. He opened the door and Shae gently pushed him inside, locking it behind her. Shae put her finger over his lips, then, with her other hand, touched his face, smoothed out the line between his eyes, and traced a pattern across his cheekbones. Here, now, he was just a man, a man whose brain excited her and whose body had conquered her. It frightened her how much she felt for him and how much she wanted him. Everything told her to run, but what Bay had said had flipped her switch in her brain.

  Don’t waste love. You deserve to be happy.

  Slowly, Shae moved her finger away from his lips and pressed hers to them. They kissed, hesitantly at first, then the fire ignited and the kissing became deeper and more intense.

  They finally broke free, gasping for air.

  Otis leaned his forehead against hers. “Shae, let me say this …let me ask this. Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me?”

  Shae, breathless, started to giggle.

  “What?” Otis was grinning, a confused look on his face.”

  “You know that’s the first time you’ve ever actually asked me to dinner? You usually just tell me we’re having dinner.”

  “Really?” Otis laughed. “I’m appalling. Why do you put up with me?”

  “Lord knows. Because you’re a genius. Because you’re gorgeous. Because you infuriate me more than any other person.”

  Otis considered. “I can live with that if you can. Can you?” His face was suddenly serious—and vulnerable.

  Shae slid her arms around him. “I can, Otis. I can give this another try …and another try…”

  When he kissed her this time, there were tears on her cheeks. “My wonderful, beautiful Shae …”

  “I’m yours, Otis Ford.”

  “And I’m yours, my darling.”

  She smiled, glancing around the darkened office. “Is this thing sound-proofed?”

  Otis grinned. “No …and we have rounds. But I tell you what, after dinner tonight …I’ll hold you to that promise you made.”

  Shae feigned ignorance. “What promise? I didn’t make a ...” She didn’t get to finish the sentence before his lips found hers again. “Okay,” she sighed. “I promised.”

  Otis rubbed her nose with his. “Good. Now for the hottest sex talk you’ll hear from me …let’s go see the sick and needy.”

  Later, after a morning of rounds, they stood beside each other in the scrub room. The nurses were already in theater. Otis was talking Shae through the procedure. “Every patient is different, of cour
se, but this one should be straight forward. Oh, and I love you.”

  “I do know how to do this procedure,” Shae, blushing furiously, looked Otis in the eye.” I’ve done them thousands of time and I love you too.”

  Otis nodded, his smile spreading across his handsome face and his eyes sparkling. “Well, then, Dr. Groves, shall we go give this man back the use of his legs?”

  “Why, yes, Dr. Ford. Lead on …”

  Quartet #4

  Ache for You

  Seattle

  Kym Clayton stood in front of the bathroom mirror and braced herself for the reflection she’d see. Come on, she told herself. It’s not as if all the bruises and wounds haven’t long since healed.

  She drew in a lungful of oxygen and looked up. Just see what’s there. Slim face, long blonde hair, blue eyes lined with kohl, smoky gray shadow. Rock ‘n’ Roll. A nude lip. All about the eyes, baby. And that was the problem.

  Fuck.

  What was killing here was there, in her eyes. Guilt. Fear. Heartbreak. Kym clenched her hands together; the hands that hadn’t fired the gun that pumped three bullets into her best friend’s stomach, but may as well have. She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing those shots over and over again. When Stu taken her down to California, she’d tried to pretend she didn’t know what he had done. All those weeks, zip-tied to various motel beds, she had practiced telling herself that Stu—her drugged up, fuck-head of a boyfriend—hadn’t shot Bay in cold blood. Her mantra was, he’d never do it. He didn’t do it.

  When Roman Ford, all six-foot-two of him, had kicked in the door of that slum motel, her first thought had been joy—wild, delirious joy. He was here to save her.

  And he did. He did save her. Then he’d said two words and her body felt like it was being shredded slowly through metal teeth.

  She’s dead.

  Bay, her beautiful, soulful, warm best friend, was dead. Murdered. Her soul had collapsed in itself. She had taken Stu’s gun and pressed it against his head, wanting to do to him what he had done to Bay. Roman had talked to her gently, and in the end, she hadn’t had the courage to kill Stu …or herself. More cowardice.

  When Roman had told her Bay was alive, she was so overjoyed that she brushed aside Roman’s reason. I wanted to hurt you. To punish you.

  Now, she smirked in the mirror, thinking of it. She didn’t bear Roman any grudge—in fact she thought he had been too kind in admitting his reasons. I deserve your hatred.

  Kym quickly glanced at the staid, navy blue suit she wore. Court. Today she would have to face them all for the first time since Bay was shot. Was it fucked up that she was more comfortable seeing Stu than her own friends? She could take Stu’s hatred.

  Bay and Tom. Peter and Hank. Emily and Dash. Otis and the new girlfriend, the other doctor. She imagined their eyes on her, blaming, loathing, and cursing her.

  Roman—the only one who knew where she’d hidden herself—would be there, of course. He had told her over and over that it would be okay and that no one hated her. How he, of all people, could say that—every time she met him, she saw the pain in his eyes and the recrimination.

  He’d had to beg her to testify for that very reason. She wanted to …but seeing them all … He made her a deal; she could hide away until the trial and he wouldn’t tell anyone, not even her parents—not that they cared. Where had they been when she was missing?—where she was, if she testified. He’d thrown in an apartment in San Diego and gave her money for food, clothes, and bills without flinching. Even when she’d been an utter bitch to him, throwing his generosity back in his face—Mr. Fucking Billionaire—he’d remained solid.

  He sometimes came to eat with her, their dinners silent affairs. He’d come every Friday and knock on her door. After the first few times, when she’d resisted, she’d simply come to accept that this is what he did. He would often cook, his flair in the kitchen astonishing her. Afterward, they would watch a –movie—in silence, of course—then without fail, he would ask her if she needed anything, nod politely, then leave.

  She couldn’t make the man out. Roman Ford didn’t seem like someone who would be lonely. He certainly didn’t need any help attracting women. She had often seen him in the society pages, at exclusive benefits and fund-raisers with a beautiful woman on his arm. And why not?

  Roman Ford was the kind of handsome that would cause sane women to lick him in public. Dark, short hair and the deepest brown eyes she’d ever seen—even Bay’s warm dark violet eyes weren’t as bottomless as that brown. A girl could get lost in them. But it was his stillness, his presence, that fascinated her. She would never tell him, but she found him …serene.

  Fuck’s sake, get a grip woman. Kym flicked the bathroom light out and stepped into the hotel bedroom. Even now, Roman had brought her to this luxurious penthouse. Kym crossed the room to the wall-to-ceiling windows, pressing her hands and her face against the glass. God, she had missed this city, with the ever-present rainclouds and the Olympic Mountains rising up across the bay—Mt. Rainier hiding itself in the dark, bruised sky to the south of Seattle. Kym watched the elevator in the Space Needle making its journey to the viewing deck, stuffed with tourists, and the Monorail gliding back and forth between the Seattle Center and Downtown.

  A knock. Roman didn’t wait to be asked in, but she didn’t care. He nodded at her, unsmiling.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded and grabbed her purse. A corner of Roman’s mouth hitched up at the corner as he took in her formal attire. “You look …uncomfortable.”

  “You have no idea, dude.”

  In the car, Roman was his usual quiet self and Kym was glad of it. She didn’t want him asking if she was scared or nervous because she was concentrating on not being those things.

  As the car drew up outside the courthouse, Kym’s palms started to sweat and her heart banged against her ribs.

  “Kym?”

  I can’t do this. I can’t do this. “I just need a moment.”

  “Take your time.”

  Damn it, stop being so nice! Kym grounded her teeth and opened the car door. Maybe later, after this was over, she’d finally be free of him. A sharp pain hit her chest then, but she ignored it. She stalked into the massive, gray courthouse, not looking left or right. As she stepped into the marble-floored foyer, she stopped her throat closing.

  Tomas Meir put a hand on Bay’s shoulder, nodding towards Kym. Everything told her to run, but she couldn’t move. Bay turned toward her. God. Kym saw her friend was using a stick to walk, but other than that, she looked well and healthy. Her long, dark hair hung even longer than Kym remembered, but Bay’s sweet face, usually so warm, was blank as the two women stared at each other.

  She hates me. God, I’m sorry, Bay. I’m so sorry. Kym turned away, looking for an escape. Roman caught her elbow and steered her into a room. “Bay knows you don’t want to see her. She won’t force the issue if that’s the way you want things to be.”

  Kym closed her eyes and swallowed back the nausea that rose in her throat. She sucked in a few deep breaths and felt Roman’s warm hand on her back.

  “Kym?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. His eyes were soft. “It’s almost over, Kym.”

  Bay turned back to Tom, her eyes filling with tears and her body trembling. Tom caught her face in his palms and kissed the tears away. “I know, baby,” he murmured. “I know. Come on, let’s find somewhere to sit.”

  He held her hand on the way to the courtroom. Her other hand gripped the handle of the stick. She hated using it, especially now that the rest of her body was healed and good. Even her scars, from bullet wounds and multiple surgeries, were now just silvery lines on her belly, crisscrossing it. Tom would kiss her scars when they lay together at night. She had survived. Stu had failed. That was the only thing that mattered now.

  Except …Bay didn’t know how she would cope, seeing him. She still relived that night, that gun aimed at her, the muzzle flash, the sound, and the pain every time she clos
ed her eyes. The pain in Tom’s eyes when she had finally woken in the hospital. The fracture of her dreams. Bay, Pete, and Kym. The 9th & Pine. They had been set for superstardom and were on the verge of touring when Stuart Lawson’s bullets had ruined everything.

  Tom led her into a side room. “Lawyer said we should wait here until you’re called.” They sat, Tom pulling his chair next to hers so he could wrap his arms around her. She tilted her face up to his and met his kiss.

  “You know,” Tom murmured, “We could be really efficient and get married while we’re here.”

  “Wrong court, doofus.” But she smiled. Tom’s lips were firm against hers and she sighed at the sensations that ran through her body. After she’d gotten out of the hospital, it had been months until she was ready for sex again. Now, though, she couldn’t get enough of him.

  Tom had vowed that after the trial, after all the horror was behind them, he would take her away for a long, long time. Otis had offered them the use of his private island in the Caribbean—only Otis would have an island, she’d grinned. But she was excited to go and get away from all of this.

  Pete arrived with Hank and hugged her. “You okay, sweet thing?” Bay nodded.

  “I saw Kym,” she told Pete in a low voice and he gave a quick nod.

  “Did she speak to you?”

  “No. Roman spirited her away somewhere.”

  Pete looked annoyed. “Figures. When does this thing start?”

  “Any minute.”

  Bay felt Tom’s hand on the back of her neck, massaging the knots there, and she leaned into his touch. “It’s nearly over.”

  “Nearly.”

  Tom kissed her temple. “Whatever happens, I love you so much.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest so he didn’t see her cry.

  “Stuart Roger Lawson, you are accused of the following: one count of attempted murder in the first degree against Miss Baijayanthi Aria Tambe; one count of assault with a deadly weapon against Miss Tambe; one count of possession of a firearm with intent to endanger life; one count of the kidnapping of Miss Kymberly Clayton …”

  The list of charges went on and on, but Stu grinned at everyone. He was still smiling when he was asked how he pled.