His Beautiful Revenge: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Michelle Love

  Back in her room, she showered and dress quickly—a simple tea dress over leggings. She pulled open the door to find Pete about to knock.

  “Ready to rock?”

  She grinned at him. “Last day,” she whispered conspiratorially and Pete chuckled.

  “Word. Emily just told me Quartet has moved the single up to tomorrow so …”

  Bay sighed. “Good. The sooner it’s out, the sooner it’ gone and we’ll have something to show for this.”

  They met with Charlie and a fraught-looking Emily, who were deep in discussion, Charlie gesturing effusively. She smiled when she saw them.

  “I hope you don’t mind …I was just telling Emily that we might reconsider the artwork. Just because putting my name first on the record might make the sales pop.”

  “Thought we’d already discussed this …many, many times.” Bay couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “You were brought onto our project, remember? As a favor?”

  Charlie rocked back from the annoyance in Bay’s voice. “‘A favor?’ To me? Don’ forget who’s the star around here.”

  Emily opened her mouth, but having finally had enough, Bay stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Charlie, I know you’re a star. I’ve known it since I was a teenager and your daughter—remember her?—would spend all day and all night with me because you couldn’t be bothered to arrange adequate care. I was there the day the star missed sports days, recitals, and prom. The night we opened at the Paramount. When Stuart Lawson beat your daughter so badly she ended up in hospital. When she was kidnapped, for the love of God—where the fuck was the star then?”

  Bay was aware that she was shouting now, getting in Charlie’s face with her anger, hurt, and love for her best friend and the shitty way this particular star had brought her up. “And then,” Bay gave an astonished shake of her head. “You wanted to jump into her band and take her place. You are unbelievable. I …”

  At some point, Pete picked Bay up and carried her off as she still ranted at Charlie, who looked shell-shocked. Pete wrangled Bay back to her room, wrestling her into a chair. “Calm down. Bay, look at me …calm down.” He trapped her in the cage of his big arms, staring her down until she stopped raging. Then she looked at him with huge eyes.

  “Oh shit. Oh shit …Pete …” Pete locked his arms around her as she began to sob. Emily let herself in a few minutes later and saw them. Pete nodded to her and she stepped back outside and pressed a number on her phone.

  “Tom …it’s Emily. We need you. Bay needs you.”

  The idea had been bubbling away in her mind all morning as she cooked pancakes for herself and Roman. Waking up next to him, she had asked him gently if he was okay, and instead of answering, he’d made love to her, slowly and tenderly. She couldn’t resist him in those moments, but now, she realized he had diverted her attention again. He was hiding something.

  “Damn, those smell good.” Roman pressed his lips down on her shoulder.

  “Almost done.”

  As they ate, he asked her what she was doing that day. “Working,” she said idly. “Cal wants to do a stock check today, so I’ll be there all day.”

  “Huh. So how about I walk you home again tonight?” He bit into a strip of bacon, then grinned at her.

  “That would be wonderful.” She kissed him. “What are you going to do today?” Light, breezy, and totally not loaded, she hoped.

  “Scouting for premises. I think it’s time Quartet opened a NoLa branch. What do you think?”

  Kym put down her fork. “Roman…”

  “This isn’t about you, Kym. I’m not about to pressure you into going back into the music business. It’s just good sense for me to be here as much as possible …especially now.” His smile made her heart soar.

  So, she felt kind of bad when she followed him. He obviously wanted to spend more time with her—but why was he so secretive about where he was living? He had kissed her goodbye and she’d given him a couple of minutes before she had walked the same way she knew he was going. It wasn’t hard to see him, as tall as he was, even through the early morning tourists that thronged down to the Quarter.

  Seven blocks north of her apartment, she saw Roman tug out some keys and go into a house there. She stood just around the corner, waiting. After thirty minutes, she was ready to give up, but then the door opened and Roman came out carrying a bag. Kym’s heart began to beat faster as a pretty, blonde woman followed him out. For a moment, Roman blocked Kym’s view of his companion, then as he moved around her, Kym saw her and her heart began to fail in her chest.

  The woman was hugely pregnant. As Kym’s eyes filled with angry tears, she watched Roman help the woman into his car and saw him laughing with her and smiling, his face full of love.

  “You bastard. You utter bastard.” She murmured the words, but it felt like she was shouting them. Screaming them. She turned away from the happy scene and ran, block after block after block, not seeing where she was going and ignoring the horns of the motorists she ran out in front of, just running from yet another heartache.

  She had no idea how she got home that day.

  Emily had managed to cover up the evidence of Bay’s spectacular meltdown in the press, even managing to console and cajole a fuming Charlie into finishing off the interviews herself—and not trashing the band. Pete was keeping a strict eye on Bay, who he’d ordered to bed until Tom got there.

  Emily was furiously texting when she saw Shae Groves in the reception, asking for Bay.

  “Hey, how come you’re here?” Emily greeted Shae and the other woman hugged her.

  “Tom called me and told me what happened. He asked me to come see if I could help. He’s trying to get a flight now.”

  Emily sighed. “I’m glad you’re here. Come on, I’ll take you up.”

  As they rode the elevator to the seventh floor, Emily filled Shae in on what had happened.

  “I don’t think any of us are surprised—except maybe Charlie,” she said with a grin. “This has been coming on for a while.”

  “Tom said the same.” Shae shook her head. “I knew I should have gotten her better counseling.”

  Emily looked doubtful. “Not sure that would have made a difference. In a weird way, I think this needed to happen. I just wish it had happened before we had started a new campaign. Poor Pete, too. He’s really been through the mill. I think he might be thinking of forgetting the whole thing.”

  “Oh, I hope not. Look, we knew Bay’s recovery wouldn’t just be physical …and with Kym’s distance …”

  “Yeah.” Emily sighed and knocked on Bay’s door. Pete opened it and gave them a smile.

  “She’s pretending to be asleep,” he said to Shae. “So go on in.”

  Shae chuckled and hugged him. “You’re a good man, Peter Espinoza.” Pete hugged her back.

  “She’s my little sister,” he said simply. “We stick together …well, most of us.”

  Emily and Pete went down to the bar and ordered some drinks. “Cruella still in the interviews?”

  “Last one, then she’s on a plane back to Nashville.”

  “Dong dong, the witch is dead.”

  “You’re really mixing up your movies there.”

  “Meh,” Pete said good naturedly, picking at a bowl of chips and salsa. Emily studied him.

  “Pete? What if the band folds? What if Bay can’t get over this?”

  Pete shoved two large tortilla chips into his mouth. “She will. Don’t you worry about that. But if Bay decides she doesn’t want to do this—no harm, no foul. I love being in this band, but you know what I love more? Hank. Our life together. We’re adopting. Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t. That’s wonderful!” Emily threw her arms around the big man, grateful for the good news and delighted for him. She adored Pete and Hank together; they were her inspiration to make her and Dash’s relationship work.

  As if reading her mind, Pete grinned at her. “When are you going to make an honest man out of Dashiel
l, then?”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Ha. A long, long time in the future. I’m just working on him becoming an adult at this point.”

  Pete laughed. “Aren’t you younger than him?”

  “It’s Dash,” she said with feeling, then laughed with him. “God, Pete, you are a walking anti-depressant. Anyone tell you that?”

  Pete half-smiled. “Wish I could be that for my two girls.”

  She squeezed his hand. “It’ll all work out in the end. I promise.”

  She hoped she wasn’t lying to him.

  Shae came out of Bay’s room just as Tom walked into the hotel room. After saying their hellos, Shae told him Bay was asleep.

  “I gave her something to help her sleep. She clearly has PTSD. I don’t need to be a psychologist to diagnose her with that. It’s pretty obvious. But,” she added, seeing Tom sigh, “Now we can begin to help her. Therapy, along with medication, and she’ll get through this, I promise. The question is …what about you?”

  Tom looked up. “Hey, I’m okay as long as she is. It’s been rough, yeah, but she’s alive and we’re together. There isn’t anything we can’t overcome like that.”

  Shae smiled at him. “You are a very special man, Tomas Meir. Look, I’m sorry about this, but I’ve been paged back to the hospital. Call me if you need anything.”

  Tom pulled his jacket off, kicked his shoes into the corner of the room, and lay down beside her. Bay, lying on her stomach, opened her eyes. He stroked her hair.

  “I hear you had a nutty,” he whispered and was glad when she laughed.

  “I did. On Kym’s mom.”

  Tom nodded. “Well, then, she probably deserved it.”

  Bay chuckled softly and wriggled into his arms. “Pete had to haul me bodily away from her before I went ham.”

  Tom looked confused. “Is that some young person word I’m not privy to?”

  “Hard as a motherfucker. Really, grandpa.”

  “Sorry, young ‘un. Are you okay?”

  “I think so. Shae was kind; she’s going to refer me to some shrink in Seattle.”

  “Frasier Crane?”

  “Or Niles.” They both laughed. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was kind of expecting this.”

  Bay sighed and tilted her head up to him, pressing her lips against his. “How did I live without you?”

  “Ditto, beautiful. Bay, if there’s anything I can do to help you, I’ll do it. Just say the words.”

  Bay looked at him for a long time and then said in small voice. “Kym.”

  He nodded and smiled. “Leave it with me.”

  When Bay had gone back to sleep, Tom stepped out from the bedroom and called Roman. Voicemail. “Rome, call me back. We need to talk.”

  Kym called in sick for three days, claiming the flu. Cal, despite her Oscar-winning performance, was suspicious, but she kept the pretense up.

  Roman called the first night, banging on her door. She didn’t answer him then, or on the second night. The third night, there was no one banging on the door. Instead, a note pushed under it.

  Talk to me.

  Kym sat in the tub now, the water rapidly losing its heat, but she didn’t notice. She may not have been actually sick, but she felt it. Her chest hurt and her throat was raw from crying.

  Damn you for making me fall in love with you, Roman Ford. Why the hell did I think you were any better than Stu had been, or dad? Trust—none of you have any idea of the concept, do you?

  When the bath water got unbearably cold, she hauled herself out and wrapped herself in a huge, fluffy towel. The New Orleans night was cool for a change and she shivered, pulling on a sweater and her jeans.

  As she brushed out her hair, she glanced at her phone. Every fiber of her being wanted to call Bay and to talk it out with her the way they had a hundred thousand times before. But, even with the few times they had spoken since the shooting, she still felt …

  Lonely. There was no other word for it.

  No, she got up and told herself. I will not be the girl who lets a guy ruin her life. Not again. She picked up her phone, but instead called Cal and told him she would be in to work in ten minutes. Not looking back at her very inviting couch, she grabbed her purse and went to work.

  “New Orleans.”

  Bay looked up as Tom came to sit by her. They were looking at a bunch of houses—as much as they love the houseboat, Bay’s therapist had advised them to move if Bay wanted to move past the horrors that happened there.

  Bay couldn’t help but be relieved when Tom agreed. Having to see the place where she had lain, shot, bleeding, and dying, every day had been a strain she hadn’t been willing to admit.

  They were sitting in a penthouse that Bay thought was way too big, but by Tom’s expression had just jumped to the top of the list. She had teased him about boys and their toys, but she had to admit, despite its size, it was a beautiful place, with 360-degree views of the city.

  Now, though, she was caught up in what Tom was telling her.

  “Roman’s in New Orleans and has been for a couple months. So, if what Kym told you was true, then that’s where we’ll find her.”

  “You didn’t ask Roman directly?”

  “It was hard enough to get him to give up where he was. So, now you know.”

  “Now we know.”

  Bay sat back on the couch, thinking. Tom watched her for a moment before the realtor came in to find them. Tom smiled at the young man.

  “We’ll take it—okay?” He looked at Bay, who nodded, but he could see she wasn’t concentrating.

  Later at home, in bed, Bay turned to face him. “Tommy?”

  He chuckled. “That’s a new one.”

  “It’s the name I’ve decided to use when I’m being passive aggressive and needy.”

  Tom laughed. “Your therapist teach you that?”

  “She’s worth every penny.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I want to go to New Orleans.”

  Tom squinted at her. “No shit.”

  Bay grinned. “But I don’t want to go there and overwhelm her. She’s a flight risk.”

  “Obviously. So?”

  “So, I want to talk to Roman and find a way to show her what she is missing and how much we love her.”

  Tom considered. “Okay. So talk to Roman.”

  Bay looked excited and kissed him. “I will. What’s the time there?”

  Tom laughed again and pulled her into his arms. “Call tomorrow, baby. We don’t have time. Tonight you have a meeting scheduled with …Little Tommy.”

  Bay giggled and kissed him. “Seriously, you are not naming your cock that. Also, not so little …”

  “Mmmm, you’re right. Little Tommy may be growing up fast …” He playfully bit her neck as she wriggled beneath him.

  “No, really, stop. That’s so unsexy to call it that …but I have to agree …oh …yep, definitely getting bigger …oh god that’s so good, so good …”

  Kym stepped out into the cold of the New Orleans morning, tensed and half-expecting him to be there, waiting. Then came the crashing disappointment when he wasn’t. Stop it. She jogged home and up to her apartment, then skidded to a halt. Roman sat, leaning against her door. She couldn’t read his expression. For a moment, they stared at each other.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Why have you ghosted me?”

  Kym’s fingers curled into her palms, her nails biting into the flesh so he wouldn’t see her trembling. She took a deep breath in.

  “I have neighbors. You better come inside.”

  Inside, for something to do with her hands, she snagged a couple of beer bottles from the refrigerator and handed one to Roman.

  She sat at the kitchen table and looked him in the eye. “So, I followed you home the other day. Pretty girl. When is she due?”

  “She had the baby yesterday. A girl. Bailey. Polly is her mom.”

  Kym’s voice cracked a lit
tle. “Congratulations.”

  Roman sighed. “The baby isn’t mine if that’s why you’re mad. Neither is she someone I am currently or ever have been intimately involved with.”

  Kym couldn’t help the sneer. “Is that fancy talk for screwing? She did look a bit too Mary Sue for you.”

  “Don’t be a bitch.” But his words were softly spoken.

  “It’s none of my business what you do,” she said, but cursed the way her voice broke. Roman tried to take her hands, but she pulled them away and put them in her lap.

  “Kym …Polly is my sister. Technically, my half-sister. She’s my dad’s daughter from …his other family. He wasn’t a big fan of consecutive parenting, it seems. She’s about seven years younger than me and Otis—I found out about her last year when I was going through some papers of dad’s.”

  Kym studied his face. “And the baby?”

  Roman nodded. “When I found her, she was living in a halfway house, knocked up by some dude she hooked up with and never saw again. She’d been in abusive relationships before—didn’t have any reason to trust men. Apparently, her mom killed herself when she found out my dad had died—in the newspaper. Polly was one. Straight into the foster care system.”

  “So when you found her …”

  “I had to make it right, didn’t I? I had the means, and god knows, the responsibility. But she made me swear not to tell anyone else.”

  “Not even Otis?”

  “Otis idolized our dad. Me too, but I figured if Polly didn’t want anyone else to know, what was the point of smashing Otis’ picture of Dad. My Dad, although flawed, was a good man despite that. He died in a bodega shooting. Otis and I were there.”

  Shame flooded through Kym and now it was her turn to take his hands. He didn’t pull away, instead linking his fingers through hers.

  “I figured when you shut me out that you’d followed me. I came here twice, as you know, but the third night, Polly went into labor.”

  “God, Roman.” All of her anger had dissipated now and she went to him. He pulled her onto his knee, buried his face in her neck for a long moment, and held her. Kym pressed her lips to his forehead. When he looked up, she could see raw emotion in his eyes.