Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Vaughn, Vesper

  Roger exhaled. "Yeah. I proposed to her last night. And, to be honest - we were going to get married here. In Vegas. Just a quick, last-minute thing alone."

  I howled with appreciative laughter. "You trying to kill your mother?"

  "Whatever works to get the rest of my inheritance," he said, only half-joking. "So we were on our way here. We were actually driving in a rental car. Well, Vince was driving. We were fucking in the back like wildcats." Roger paused, a misty look crawling across his eyes at the apparent memory. "And we got here and I just heard my dad's voice in my head. Sign a prenup. Sign a prenup. So I brought it up to her. And she lost it. Refused to sign one. Patently."

  I listened patiently. "Well, you can't really blame her for that, can you? I mean, a prenup to some people is like admitting that the marriage is probably going to fail one day. Who wants to hear that? I know I wouldn't, even with all my money. Even with being the one who would lose everything."

  Roger shook his head. "It wasn't that, though, man. Because I asked her if it was the divorce thing. But she was just being super, super weird about it. That's when I realized she knew who I was. And I confronted her about it, and she got angry..." Roger had pain in his eyes like I'd never seen him have. "And then she admitted she knew who I was from the beginning. Pretty much day one."

  I let out a low whistle. "Jesus fuck. That's rough shit."

  Roger nodded. "Yeah, well. Vince took care of her."

  My eyes went wide.

  Roger held up his hands so quickly he splashed my jeans with cotton-candy-scented bubbles. "No, man. Jesus. Christ. He didn’t kill her. No. I mean he sent her home on a plane. He brought me back here and made sure to lock up the minibar before he drove her to the airport. But he found me down the strip right when I called you. Right before I handed the phone over."

  I nodded. "That fucking sucks."

  Roger sighed. "But I guess when it comes down to it, I was lying to her too, right? I didn’t offer up who I was." He sipped water again like it was a beer bottle. "So I guess I'm just as much of a fucking hypocrite. I just don't know what came over me."

  "You just wanted to know that someone could love you for who you are. Not what you have. You just want to know that they chose you because of you. Not because of...weird strings." The words hung in the air and seemed to shimmer before my eyes. The things I'd just said were as much for me as they were for Roger.

  ***

  I found Rachel asleep and drooling on the couch cushion. Vince had gone to bed and shut off the television. The curtains were open onto the glowing strip below; the brown, low mountains the ringed Las Vegas in the distance. I shook her shoulder. "Rachel," I whispered.

  She slapped my hand away, still half asleep. "Not ready to get up yet," she said. "Five more minutes."

  I laughed quietly and scooped her up into my arms. She nuzzled her face into my neck and I carried her into one of the spare bedrooms. I set her down as gently as I could, but I ended up accidentally waking her from her peaceful slumber. "Zane?" she murmured, squinting her eyes. "Where am I?"

  "Vegas," I said, brushing a strand of red hair off of her forehead. "And I just had an amazing fucking idea. You ready for an adventure?"

  Thirty minutes later we were standing on the edge of the pool downstairs. I'd paid off the night clerk and two of the security guards to let us come out here. The water was still; the night air warm and dry against our skin. It was nice to not be feeling humidity for once. "You ready?"

  "I jump, you jump, Jack," Rachel said. Her porcelain skin was glowing in the light from the pool, her black lingerie substituting for swimwear.

  We counted to three and jumped in together, making a splash that soaked the poolside pavement. Rachel went all the way under the water and re-emerged, her glasses soaking.

  I grabbed her waist and drew her toward me in the water. I kissed her full lips. "It's nice to be with a woman who isn't worried about messing up her makeup and extensions."

  Rachel rolled her eyes. "One day you'll find a compliment for me that doesn't involve how I am compared to other women." But she was still smiling. She pushed away from my body and glided onto her back, floating and looking up at the night sky. "I hate this light pollution," she admitted.

  "The Las Vegas strip is probably one of the worst places in the entire world to stargaze. The light pollution must be in the top ten of all places on earth."

  She pulled out of the corpse position and swam back over to me, linking her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist. I kissed her again. She moaned appreciatively. "One time I saw this artist's rendering of what the night sky would look like in Chicago if every single one of the lights went out. The skyscrapers were these black, monolithic shadows carved into this brilliant night sky behind them. You could see the gasses of the Milky Way and everything. It's always been my dream to be able to see that for real in person."

  "I'll have to file that away for later," I replied with a grin.

  She splashed me with water. "Oh, Mr. Billionaire. Are you going to pay off the utility company? Or maybe find a mercenary who 's willing to bomb the power grid?"

  I flashed her my dimples in response, hugging her even tighter. "Something like that."

  We floated in silence, wrapped up in each other's arms for several minutes. "Roger's going to be okay," I said.

  "Good. How long was he sober?"

  "I think it was three hundred days," I said.

  "He's been going to meetings?" she asked.

  "Yeah. He’s got a sponsor and everything. Do you have people in the program?"

  Rachel bit her lip and nodded. "I don't really feel like I should say who, though. She's pretty quiet about it."

  I nodded and held her in my arms. We just floated and stared up at the nearly starless night sky, lost in thought.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  RACHEL

  The next morning dawned bright and early in Vegas. Vince was the first one up. He had, quite unexpectedly, a tray of tea service awaiting me.

  "Morning. Dream of zombies?" Vince asked with a smile. He deftly used sugar tongs to drop three cubes into his own cup.

  "Mm," I groaned in return. "Amazing what happened last night. I can't believe that Rick-"

  "La la la la la!" Zane’s voice came from the front doors of the suite. He was dripping with sweat and wearing running gear. "Spoilers! Please. Contain yourself."

  "But you said that you didn't watch the show!" I exclaimed, finally feeling awake at the sight of his blue eyes and dimpled cheeks.

  He walked over and kissed me. Even when he was sweaty he still smelled good. I wondered vaguely if billionaires had their sweat glands replaced with cologne pods. Okay. Maybe I was still partially in my morning stupor.

  "I said I don't watch the show. That doesn't mean I won't one day watch the show. And I'd like my mind to remain pristine. It's bad enough that I know Rick and Daryl make it at least six seasons." I grinned at him. He ran his hand over my rat’s nest of hair. He gestured to Vince. "She doesn't like mornings. Can you tell?"

  Vince laughed. "She seems okay to me. Maybe it's just you. Tea?"

  Zane reached down to hug me and I slithered out of his sweaty grasp. "I'm good."

  "Wasn't talking to you. Talking to Ms. Cobb here,” Vince replied with a grin.

  I shrieked and ran away. "Vince, yes, tea please. And you," I said, hiding my body behind the couch as Zane hunted for me. "No sweaty hugs. Shower. Now."

  Zane wiggled his eyebrows. "Is that an invitation?"

  Vince cleared his throat pointedly.

  I let out a slow breath to cam my heart rate. He had that instant effect on me and it was annoying. "I won't be rude to Vince. Enjoy your shower." I tried my best to wiggle my ass as I walked away from him.

  While Zane showered, the restaurant downstairs sent up a spread of food that made the Last Supper look like a snack break. "Compliments of the chef. For Mr. Morehouse, Mr. Reid, and his guests,” said the server.

  When the te
am of people left behind the pastries, eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits, and mountains of fresh fruit, Vince and I dug in. "So this is how the rich get richer? Free food?"

  Vince chuckled. “Pretty much.”

  Zane walked in, looking fresh as a daisy. He bent down and kissed my pastry-filled lips. “Mm,” he murmured. “You taste like icing.”

  “Get a room,” Vince insisted.

  Zane laughed and sat down, pouring himself a cup of coffee and filling his plate with fruit and protein. “Thanks for ordering all this, Vince. I’m starving after my run. I went nine miles this morning. I feel like I haven’t done that in years anywhere but on a treadmill.”

  “You ran up the strip?” Vince asked, looking surprised.

  Zane nodded. “Nice to be in a place where nobody is looking for me or recognizes me at all.”

  I glanced over at Zane. “Why don’t you have bodyguards?”

  Vince laughed. “Do you see this man as the type to have someone following his every entire move? He’d rather risk kidnapping.”

  Zane sipped his coffee. “I’m what you call a low-profile billionaire. I don't post up on Sunset Boulevard or have a penthouse in New York City. Despite the fact that I’m richer than Roger, people aren’t really on the lookout for me. They have zero leverage anyway.”

  Vince stepped in. “Roger’s entire family is worth several times over what Mr. Reid is alone. So if they kidnap Roger-“

  “They can hold him hostage and get the rest of his family to fork over their own cash to get him,” I finished.

  “That’s assuming my family would actually pay anything for me. Which is assuming a bit too much if you’ve met my parents.” Roger appeared, looking bleary eyed but in his usual pristine suit clothes, his hair done. He nodded at Zane and Vince, then sat down next to me. Vince handed him a silver can of Red Bull and he popped it open. He was still staring at me.

  "Do I have something on my face?" I asked, trying to sound lighthearted.

  "Your business sucks. I'm not giving you fifty million dollars. Just to be clear."

  I opened my mouth and looked at Zane, who was staring daggers at Roger.

  "That's why she's here, right? Looking for more investors?" Roger waited a few beats. Then he burst out into hysterical laughter. I joined in with him. He refilled my glass with fresh squeezed orange juice and handed it to me with a nod of his head. "I was kidding. Truce between Zane’s best friend and his girlfriend, even if you do take all of his precious time away from me and I am a viciously jealous creature?"

  I grinned. "Truce." I clinked my OJ glass with his icy can of Red Bull.

  "It's Ms. Cobb’s first time in Vegas," Vince intoned from the other end of the table.

  "First time in Vegas? Really. Well, well, well." Roger gave me an appraising look. "How long are you here for?" Zane stared to speak but Roger held up a hand. "I was asking Rachel."

  “At least until tomorrow morning, I’d think. Finish out the weekend here with a bang?”

  Roger rubbed his hands together. “As long as it doesn’t involve alcohol, I’m down for whatever.”

  “I thought you were about to offer to play tour guide?” I asked him with a smirk.

  “Oh, you want a tour guide?” Roger put his hands on his chest. “There is no better person than me to show someone a great time in the city of sin. Stick with me, kid, and you’ll be just fine.”

  It turned out that Roger’s idea of a whirlwind tour of Vegas was just that: whirlwind. We took a helicopter ride over the strip, rode all of the roller coasters at New York, New York; bungee jumped off of the Stratosphere, saw a Cirque du Soleil show at the Bellagio, and finished up with three hours spent at the Wynn buffet.

  Completely stuffed and groaning, Zane leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to have to run eighty miles this week to make up for this meal.”

  I laughed. “You know, I didn’t peg you for a buffet guy, Roger.”

  Roger tipped back the contents of his glass of sparkling water with a smile. “There’s no point in spending more money than you need to. I could have ordered half of this shit up in the room, but it would have cost me eight times as much. It’s the best deal on the strip for what you get.”

  A patron with a fanny pack, sunglasses, and pleated shorts walked past our table carrying a cone of cotton candy sprinkled with gold flakes. I eyed it hungrily. Zane put his hand on my thigh under the table. “You want that?” He asked me with a grin.

  I shook my head. “That would be my third dessert of the evening,” I protested. “And that seems like a bit much, don’t you think?”

  Zane leaned over and kissed me on the nose, sending goosebumps down my body. “Anything for you, alright.” He lowered his voice and moved his lips to my ear. “Besides that, I’ve got to keep you plump and healthy.” He got up to stand in line at the dessert table.

  Roger was giving me a searching look. “You like him?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that. “Of course I do,” I said. “What a ridiculous question.”

  Roger shrugged. “Eh, I mean, I know that you like him sexually. You two make me sick. You're like high school sweethearts. But people can act, you know? For all I know you were a theater major in college. People lie. I should know that better than anyone.”

  “Sorry about your girlfriend,” I said sincerely.

  “Zane told you everything?”

  I nodded. “I don’t think he broke man code or anything. Besides. My sister is in AA. She’s four years sober.”

  Roger smiled. “That’s amazing. Tell her I said congratulations.”

  I shook my head. “She wouldn’t love that I was telling one of the most powerful men in the world that she’s in recovery. She has a lot of pride. She’s like my mother. Doesn’t really like people knowing her business.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Roger replied. He slurped his water and set the glass down. “So I guess what I’m really asking is this: is it serious between you two? I’ve never seen Zane like this.”

  I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure how to answer this question either. “I guess it is. We’re just taking it one day at a time.”

  Roger laughed. “Nobody knows that expression better than an alcoholic. I can appreciate that.” He looked over his shoulder to see that Zane was at the head of the cotton candy line. A tall man in a white chef’s hat was expertly twirling the candy around a white paper cone. Zane was chatting with him. I wondered if the guy was a football fan and was trying to keep his cool around the former quarterback. I realized Roger was staring at me. “If you break his heart, I’ll kill you,” Roger said quietly. “Well, I won’t. But Vince will. I’ll send him for you, I promise.”

  Zane was back at the table. “For you, milady,” he said with a grand gesture.

  I laughed. “This is three times the size of the one that the tourist had!”

  Zane shrugged. “I made friends with the cotton candy chef. He’s a Bears fan.”

  The cotton candy glinted. It was three times the size of my head and covered in gold flakes to the point where it was seventy percent gold and thirty percent perfect, fluffy pink.

  “To friends new and old,” Zane said, holding up his wine glass to Roger.

  “To keeping promises,” Roger added with a significant look at me.

  I said nothing but joined my glass with theirs.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ZANE

  TEN WEEKS LATER

  “The total sales over the first three months of business have doubled our projections,” my accountant intoned nasally. I slid my hand under the table and grabbed Rachel’s thigh. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she screwed her face up in concentration. It had become a game between us – who could make the other break in a meeting. She was usually winning and today was no exception to that.

  “Could you go over the sales by region? And how are we doing with the Zension pharmaceutical negotiations?” Rachel deftly asked these questions. She’d become quite the businesswoman over the las
t three months.

  Another suit spoke up and started droning. Rachel took the opportunity to put her hand directly on my crotch. I stiffened everywhere. She had a wry little smile on her face as she pretended to listen to the suit.

  “Okay, I think that’s enough for a Wednesday, don’t you?” I announced the second the suit stopped talking. Everyone scattered.

  We barely made it back to my office before tearing each other’s clothes off. I had my hands in Rachel’s hair and she had her panties off. We were becoming pros at fucking in secret. Twenty minutes later, she was pulling her bra back on. She looked concerned. “What’s up?” I asked her quietly.

  “It’s been three months nearly. No baby,” she said. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me? Should I go to the doctor?”

  I pulled her into my shirtless arms and kissed her on the head. “Why do you assume there’s something wrong with you? Couldn’t there be something wrong with me?”

  Rachel sighed. “Yeah, that’s more likely when you really think about it.”

  I tickled her. “Don’t make fun of me,” I said.

  “I’ll do what I want,” she retorted. “You sure we’re good? Contract and all?”

  I kissed her on the lips. “Don’t say the word contract when we’re naked, alright? And listen. Baby making involves fucking you six hundred ways to the weekend. How could I possibly not be good with that?”

  She smiled and kissed me. “Are you sure you don’t think we should go see someone?”

  I suddenly had a lightning bolt of an idea hit me. This would be the perfect cover for what I’d been planning. “If it would make you feel better, then that’s what we’ll do. But I’ll need to make a few phone calls, alright? We need to do this as discreetly as possible.”

  Rachel nodded. I slapped her ass as she stood up. “I really, really don’t want to go to this premiere thing on Friday night. It’s embarrassing,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. “For the millionth time, you don’t have a fucking choice. The mayor’s throwing the Boiler Room season premiere party and I have to be there. And I’m not going if you’re not with me.”