The Penthouse Secrets: A NYC Billionaire Romance Trilogy Boxed Set

by Amanda Horton

Tobias’s face showed me just what he thought of the idea, which was not encouraging.

  “Ms. Alexander,” said my father’s secretary, Nadine, “Mr. Kane is here.”

  “How about Mr. Dys, and Mr. Holmes?” I asked

  “Not—sorry. They just got off the elevator.”

  “Show them in.”

  “Okay, Unc- I mean Tobias. Game face on. We’ve got a concert to sell.”

  I gave Tobias my best “this is business, no-nonsense” glance and he sat taller in his seat and put on his lawyer’s face. It was the expression that said, “I’m not going to tell you how serious it is so as not to scare you, but I think we are all fucked, so straighten up.” I smirked because Tobias and my father would try the same shit on me when I was a teen and acting up.

  There may have been a totaled car involved.

  Nadine opened the door, and the rockers swaggered in, and when I say strutted it was just that. They strolled in like rock gods, which they were, and their attitude showed it. Oh, they may dress in de rigueur designer jeans and tee shirts looking like ordinary schlubs, but they pranced as if they wore Armani instead of JCrew. Blond haired Cole walked in first and slid his sunglasses down his nose and stared at me.

  “Who are you? Where is Frank?” he grated with a voice filled with last night’s drinking binge.

  “That,” said Jersey Dys, “is the big man’s daughter.” He didn’t add the word “dick” at the end of his sentence, but it sounds like he could have. “Jacine,” he said smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  He moved forward and gave me a very un-LA kiss on the cheek. It was a little too friendly and lingered too long. But the way his cologne slipped up my nose, and how he angled his hips toward me with the slightest touch of his hands on my hips made me want him to slide those lips toward mine.

  “It’s lovely to see you too, Jersey,” I said in my best ‘this is business’ voice.

  “Shot down!” said Cole too enthusiastically.

  “What are you, twelve?” said Rory as he found a place on the sofa.

  “Jack-ass,” snapped Cole.

  Rory scoffed.

  “Gentlemen,” I said. “This meeting is just about this kind of shit.”

  The cuss word shouldn’t have shocked them, but it did. In an instant, all three rock gods gave me their rapt attention.

  “And,” I continued, “the nonsense that happened the other night. Do you not realize how this affects your sales? How your fans reacted?”

  “Don’t you worry about our fans, Jacine,” said Cole dismissively. “They like to see a little dust-up.”

  “Do I have to remind you that if not for your lawyers, you’d be in jail right now?”

  “Jacine,” said Jersey, “last I looked you aren’t my mother.”

  “No, Jersey, I’m in charge of your PR.”

  “What about Mr. Alexander?” said Rory.

  “He’s in the hospital—from a heart attack—due to stress.”

  I gave these rockers my legendary death stare, and all shifted in their seats like the adult toddlers they were. Tobias watched the scene with amusement in his eyes.

  “You can’t—” started Cole.

  “Don’t go there,” said Rory. “She’s right. You know it. Shit got too deep.”

  “You’re right, Rory,” I said. “Take a look at this.”

  I picked up the remote sitting on the edge of my father’s desk and clicked on the collection of YouTubes and the twitter feed with the hashtag #rockerruckus. The team put together the worst of them to drive home a point. I had the video cued, and the sound pushed up high to grab their attention.

  “You fucking asshole,” screamed Cole. “Get the fuck out of this restaurant. I don’t want to see your ugly face while I’m trying to eat, you sick fuck.”

  “Fuck you!” yelled Jersey. “It’s a fucking public restaurant.”

  “Guys,” said Rory.

  “Shut up!” retorted Cole and Jersey in unison.

  “Leave him alone,” snorted Cole.

  “I don’t need your protection, Cole,” said Rory. He raised his hands and backed away.

  “Enough,” said Jersey. “I get the point.”

  “Do you?” I said. I wasn’t willing to stop my tutorial. I fast forward past the part where Cole chased Jersey through the restaurant with a raised chair, and when Rory convinced Cole to put it down, Jersey smashed him in the face. The twitter feed came up and some of the worst popped up in animation all under the hashtag #rockstarruckus

  Grow the fuck up!

  I can’t let my teen listen to you now.

  Do you kiss your mama with your potty mouth?

  On it went, displaying the overwhelming number of fans disgusted with the three grown men’s action.

  “We’ve got to get control of this,” I said.

  “Yeah, you can control it,” snapped Cole. “Get rid of these other two fuckers.”

  “You’re nuts,” said Jersey. “You’re the one that needs to go.”

  “Fuck that,” said Rory. “You two were the biggest asses.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “You don’t seem to understand. This problem now belongs to the three of you. You need to handle it together, or you’ll all be box office poison.”

  They all stared at me as if I asked them to climb the Matterhorn naked. But then Jersey nodded.

  “And what do you want us to do?” he said.

  “I have an idea, and my team is working on it right now. But I want to spin last night as a publicity stunt gone wrong for a battle of the bands concert and your bands are the featured players.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cole

  Boss lady is hot.

  Her blonde hair betray dark roots, but I like that look. So much better than the groupies with wild colors like neon pink or goth purple. And her body is kicking, with shapely legs that go on forever and crowned with generous hips that make me drool. I’m a hip man, though I appreciate her slim waist and round breasts. She packaged all of this in a gray skintight sheath with elbow length sleeves and a short stand-up collar that cut in a “v” that barely reached her ample cleavage. The dress clings to every screaming curve like a race car navigating the Grand Prix that showcased her to be all woman beneath her business veneer. But call me kinky. Put that hair up into a bun and settle some thick black glasses on her nose and I could do the librarian all night long. There is something about uptight that coils my springs, and I can tell this lady needs to unwind—big time.

  I keep my jacket on my lap because big guy likes Ms.Uptight faster than my hungover brain registers. He’s ready to go, while my brain, in my half-hungover state, held my head upright out of spite. I still wore my sunglasses, because the light in the room was too bright, and the peppermint schnapps I used as a mouthwash didn’t do the job of cleansing the whiskey from my breath. My head pounded enough to make me cranky as fuck, and I was ready to throw a punch at Jersey Dys just on general principles. The only thing that held back my natural inclination to pound his smug pretty boy smile was my first observation.

  Boss lady was hot.

  Concentrating on her was job one.

  And I was not too hungover to recognize the depthless and utter shit we were all in from the fiasco at Angelo’s.

  My business manager called me this morning and quit. Something about not wanting to get sued because he had a fiduciary responsibility for the actions of any member of the band. I made a mental note to call the accountants to make sure that the asshole didn’t steal my money because that would be the first job of a business manager, as happens so often in this industry. But I realize I don’t have a clue about the state of the band finances and I had to get a handle on that. Maybe boss lady had a line on one or two reputable dudes that could take the business manager position. I made a mental note to hang back to ask her.

  Rory made a rude noise at boss lady’s suggestion that we hold a battle of the bands concert.

  “I don’t do anything without
discussing it with band management.”

  Her red lips parted in a half-evil smile that went straight to my cock, and her eyes glittered.

  “Proof one of the total mess you made of this, Mr. Holmes. Your manager quit.”

  Oh ho, so I’m not the only one. And then I wondered how the lovely Jacine knew this. And if she knew about my manager.

  “In fact,” she said. “The management of all three bands quit.”

  That answered that question. This chick is good.

  But, yeah. Franklin Alexander’s daughter. She would be, pumped full of Ivy League education and schooled in the business since before she could walk.

  “And Attorney Marshall,” she nodded toward lawyer man, “will have to send letters to all of them reminding them of their contractual obligations to keep their mouths shut. Which will be difficult considering the publishers who probably called them this morning looking for tell-all book deals.”

  “Already done, Jacine,” said the attorney. Shit, he did look like a lawyer too. How did I miss that?

  “I should have known,” she said with a slight upturn of her lips. Wait. Did she gaze at the attorney with affection? Was Miss Uptight unwinding with Mr. Lawyer Man?

  Oh, no. Not on my watch. Because it does not escape my attention that I follow every movement of Ms. Jacine Alexander with attention I reserved for my guitar. If my mouth weren’t so dry from my morning ablution of peppermint schnapps, I would drool with every graceful gesture of that oh-so-fuckable body.

  Nope. There was one thing I was sure of is that I would have Ms. Jacine Alexander under me, and the sooner, the better.

  “I like the idea,” I said.

  “What?” snapped dickhead Dys. “When did you get agreeable?”

  “Along about the time when you threatened me with a chair.”

  “That was you, asshole, threatening me,” snorted Dys.

  “Enough,” said Jacine. I even like the stern way she speaks. It sends a kinky shiver through me. I wonder if she was into whips.

  Oh, the possibilities.

  “On second thought, I agree,” said Rory. But then Rory would agree to a ham sandwich when he wanted caviar. He could pound out the drums like he was the god of thunder, but what the man truly wanted was peace and harmony.

  Dickhead.

  But now I like that Rory was agreeing with me, which would surely piss off Dys.

  Good.

  “What about it, Mr. Dys?” said Jacine laser focusing her eyes on him. Oh, yes. Like that old Queen lyric, "Dynamite with a laser beam." Yeah. That was Ms. Jacine Alexander.

  For a microsecond, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Then he caught me shooting a lustful glance at boss lady, and his lips curled. What evil thought did that fuck gestate now?

  “Okay,” he said. It was too easy. Dys never gave up anything easily, not even his precious body while touring. He looked around the room appraising everyone’s reaction and stood.

  “Apparently I have a lot of band business to straighten out. Send me details through email, or call if you wish, Miss Alexander.”

  “I’ll get going too,” said Rory.

  The lawyer looked at his watch.

  “I need to get back to my office. I’ll call you later, Jacy?”

  She nodded. “Sure thing.”

  I’m wondering if boss lady and lawyer man is a sure thing, but I don’t think so. She keeps avoiding his eyes. Nope. If anything is going on there, it is unrequited. Though lawyer man isn’t as smart as he appears if he passes up on the lovely woman commanding all of us like a five-star general.

  “Coming, Kane?” said Rory.

  “Nope.” And that’s all I said. I don’t have to give those butt plugs any answers.

  The lawyer man shot laser beams with his eyes at me and then flicked his gaze to Jacine, but she appeared unconcerned.

  “If you wish to stay, Mr. Kane. I have five minutes.”

  Oh, I wish. And want. Most definitely want.

  With as hot as she made me, it wouldn’t take five minutes. But as the other men filed out of the room and lawyer man shut the door, I fix my attention on the goddess and attempted business talk. It was a losing battle.

  “Do you have any names of business managers? Apparently, I need one.”

  Her eyes raked my dissolute body, and I saw a spark there, the adoring look you see in a fan’s eyes when she’s holding out something for you to autograph. But she concealed her fangirl delight under a patina of professionalism that I wanted to crack and crumble under my touch.

  “I’ll look through my contacts,” she said with a distance that concealed her inner groupie.

  “Great. I’ll look forward to it.” I stood because there is one way to get shy fangirl to chase you is to leave. But her eyes didn’t show panic, which I’m betting on is just an act. Beneath her all-business gray sheath dress beats the heart of a teen, who cried her eyes out to Ever, the signature hit of the band Banshee I formed with those dipsticks Dys and Holmes.

  I take a few steps and listen for intake of her breathing which was calm and regular. But I know if I walk out this door now, lawyer man will have his hands all over her, and who knows? She might be into daddy play.

  Nope. I’m her daddy now. She doesn’t know it.

  Yet.

  I turn and take off my RayBans and tucked them into the pocket of my tee-shirt and gave her the most charming smile I had in me.

  For her, I made it beam like the streaks of pure sunlight that poured through the glass windows of her office.

  “Tell me. Which one of my songs is your favorite?”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t work in this business without learning a thing or two about people. PR people generally don’t give a damn about their clients, just their paychecks. But you do. This leads me to believe that you hold affection in your heart for at least some of my music.”

  “Isn’t this that got you guys into trouble in the first place? You claiming ownership of songs that you co-wrote with Jersey and Rory?”

  “That,” I said taking a step closer, “was decided on by the courts.”

  I took another step, but she didn’t move away.

  “It was Ever, wasn’t it?” I said. Her eyes flicked wide open, and she took a sharp breath.

  “It was one of my favorite songs too,” I said. “And still is.” I began to sing it softly.

  “If you ever need a friend,

  Someone to help you tie loose ends,

  The one who’ll send you roses,

  And watch the stars with you,

  Call me.

  I’ll be there always and ever.”

  I never do this—sing to a woman I’m trying to seduce. Music is the better part of my dissolute soul and I don’t share it with just anyone. But I’m sharing it with her, and she seems to sense that this is something different because she doesn’t resist when I lean in and touch my lips to hers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jacine

  His kiss is vaguely minty, whiskey and fire, and the heat in my core goes from a simmer to a full boil. I’m going to stop this. I really am, because this is highly unprofessional. But when one of the men that smiled at you from a band poster in your bedroom during your formative teen years kisses you, you do not say no. Or want to.

  Cole’s hands light on my hips and I shiver, especially when he presses his steely length into me. God, he wants me, and urgently, and it has been a very long time since I kissed a man let alone have sex with anyone. This was too good, like ice cream and champagne served at the same time. The ice cream is a forbidden treat, sweet, rich and full, and his lips are a treat, questing and passionate, drawing from me desires that I shoved into oblivion in the briefcase of my soul.

  His tongue presses against my lips and his fingers move around my waist to the place that sends sparks up my spine, and I open my mouth to take more of him. And like champagne, his kiss goes to my head, and I’m not thinking about bu
siness, or my father, or the utter idiocy of what I am doing.

  He moans a little, a low guttural sound that reverberates through me like the notes of a fine guitar. Every touch of his hands finds a new place to set ablaze, and I’m burning like wildfire.

  One hand leaves my waist, and because I’m insensible with lust, do not realize that his hand pulls up the hem of my dress and his fingers find my bud until his has done the deed. With touch too gentle for a man that pounds out rhythms on steel strings, his calloused fingertips make me climb past mere longing, or want, or the curious stirring in my belly that tells me I need this.

  My breathing speeds and he murmurs in my ear about how wet I am and that he has what I need. His light fingering builds my desire along with the pressure he applies to my most tenders places, wet and aching, and my hips jut to meet his moves. My cream floods his hand, and he murmurs appreciatively while I am aware of his brand rubbing against my thigh, hot and thick, and I think with the non-thinking part of my brain that I need that inside me.

  His fingers found my slick folds, and two fingers explored my g-spot while his thumb worked my nub. Cole is in me and around me, and my gut curls with my impending orgasm.

  A sharp rap on my door brought me to my senses, and I pushed Cole back hard, too hard, because he fell onto the leather sofa with a surprised look on his face. As the door opened, I smoothed down my skirt, and Cole licked his finger shamelessly while keeping his gaze on me. He put his hand down though when the door opened to reveal Tobias in the doorframe. He looked at me, then Cole and cloud shaded his eyes.

  My face flushed, it burns a brighter red as if I'm a teenager caught in a sex act by her father.

  “I forgot my briefcase,” said Tobias.

  My eyes roamed the room until I spotted it by the sofa. “There,” I said pointing to it.

  “Everything, okay?” he asked scrunching his eyes again at Cole.

  “Fine. Mr. Kane and I were discussing new business managers.”

  “Great,” he said. “I have a few names. Walk with me, Kane, and I’ll give you info on them.”

  “I guess that’s my cue,” said Cole as he stood. He turned his back deliberately away from Tobias and gave me a smirk. “If I have any questions about the material you send over, can I call you?”