The Billionaire Bad Boy Plan

by Michelle Love

  She had been right – he did feel like home as if they had been destined. She stifled a snort. Way to get dramatic. If she was honest, this apartment, the obvious trappings of his great wealth left her a little uncomfortable, starkly aware of the myriad differences between them.

  ‘Can’t sleep?’

  She felt him kiss her forehead and smiled up at him. ‘Just taking stock.’

  He nodded, understanding. ‘This has been a wild twenty-four hours.’ He searched her face. ‘Regrets?’

  She smiled. ‘Not one.’

  ‘Good.’ He kissed her, smoothing the hair away from her face as he moved on top of her. ‘You and me, kiddo, that’s how it’s going to be from now on. And you know what?’ He smiled as she wrapped her legs around his waist, press her body to his. ‘I think this is going to be incredible.’

  The next few weeks flew by in a whirl of meetings, works, organization, press. Isa was carried along by Sam, Cal and Zoe’s plans for her first show. So much so she sometimes felt left behind by them. Cal had set up interviews with local press – something that Isa found terrifying – but Sam had been there, by her side, for every one of them, guiding her and jumping in when she got overwhelmed.

  Sandy, her boss, had graciously given her some time off to prepare, was as excited as anyone to see her exhibit, but Isa felt guilty about leaving him alone at such a busy time.

  It was a Saturday. The gallery was quiet, Zoe was at the Farmer’s Market and Isa was alone for the first time in weeks, working out how to place her paintings for best effect. She had changed her mind at least three times and was now getting frustrated with herself. She walked to the little office, to the little mini-fridge and snagged herself a soda. The bell on the gallery’s entry door jingled and, sighing, she went out to greet the newcomer.

  A red-headed woman, who looked in her mid-thirties and expensively dressed, nodded at her. In silence, she walked around the gallery, appraising the artwork. Isa sat behind the desk, giving the woman space. It was only when the woman looked like she was heading into the closed off room where the exhibit would be, that Isa rose from her seat.

  ‘I’m sorry, that room is off limits for now. We’re having a show in a week or so.’ Feeling shy and awkward; she handed the woman a flyer. The woman studied it – for what appeared to be a strangely long time then looked up at Isa. Under her stare, Isa got the impression she was being appraised like the artwork and judged. The woman smiled eventually but it didn’t reach her eyes. She had yet to speak, and Isa began to feel creeped out by this odd woman. She offered up a small smile and turned to leave her alone, but the woman grasped stopped her, her bony fingers digging into the soft flesh of Isa’s forearm.

  ‘Just a quick preview?’ Her voice was higher than Isa expected, almost little-girl-like. Her ice-blue eyes, rimmed with red, bored into Isa’s.

  Unease curled in Isa’s stomach, and she gave a small, awkward smile.

  ‘I’d really prefer – ‘

  ‘Please. I don’t think I’ll be coming to the show; I don’t live in Seattle.’ The woman’s voice had an edge that Isa couldn’t figure out. She sighed; perhaps if she let the woman see her stuff, she’d leave quickly.

  ‘Okay, just a quick look.’

  The woman walked slowly around Isa’s exhibit, taking in every painting fully. Isa could not read her reaction and the woman offered no comment.

  She paused at the last one then looked at Isa. ‘They’re yours, aren’t they?’

  Isa gave a tight little nod, waiting for her to continue. Her palms were sweating, and she surreptitiously wiped them on her jeans. The woman flicked her gaze up and down Isa’s body, and her mouth jerked up in an unpleasant smirk. She brushed passed Isa rudely as she left the room. Isa’s cheeks flamed with heat, with embarrassment at the slight.

  She followed the woman into the main gallery, and her heart leaped when she saw Sam arriving. He grinned at her, but when he saw the woman with her, his face went hard. She had never seen him look so cold and it sent a shiver down her back. She hadn’t realized he could look so terrifying. The woman stared back at him for a second then strode out of the gallery.

  Sam shook himself then came to her. ‘You okay?’

  Isa frowned. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What happened?’ There was an edge to his voice she didn’t understand, and she shook her head, frowning up at him.

  ‘She wanted to see my exhibit, insisted, so I let her see. She was so rude, so, God, I don’t know.’ She studied his face. ‘Sam, do you know her?’

  His expression was stone, and she caught his hesitation before he spoke. ‘No. Did she say anything?’

  Isa shook her head, finding herself close to tears. Grow a thicker skin, idiot. Sam saw her distress and hugged her.

  ‘Hey, let’s forget about her. I’m taking to you to lunch.’

  She smiled gratefully at him. ‘Let me just freshen up.’

  In the bathroom, she washed her hands and face, avoiding her reflection in the mirror and swallowing back the wave of nausea that came over her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

  It wasn’t the woman’s attitude now that was upsetting her. Not the implied criticism of her work. No. It was the realization, the thought, that something was not right here.

  Because she was certain, now, above anything, that Sam, her beloved, beloved Sam, had just lied to her.

  Sam watched Isa at lunch, picking at her food, avoiding eye contact. Shit. Why had he lied to her? And why the fuck had Casey been at the gallery?

  When he’d walked in and saw her there with Isa, his stomach had dropped to the floor. A thousand questions beginning with: what the hell had she told Isa?

  His life with Casey was a million light years ago; the marriage itself had lasted less than a year, and he’d regretted it seconds after he said ‘I do.’ He didn’t, he hadn’t, he shouldn’t have. Casey was a master of misdirection and of manipulation. Beautiful, talented but deadly. Her frequent infidelities he overlooked, mostly to protect Cal. For all her faults, Casey had adored Cal, had supported as he went through his teenage years, especially after Cal’s mother had died so suddenly when Cal was seventeen.

  Isa excused herself to use the bathroom, and Sam watched her walk away. He shouldn’t have lied, but now it was too late to take it back. Shit. His cell phone chirped: a text message. He frowned, not recognizing the number. He clicked on the message.

  She’s beautiful.

  What the hell? Who is this? He texted back. No reply. He tried calling the number. Dead. Sam gritted his teeth, deleting the message. Casey. Casey was fucking with him. Sam switched his phone off, annoyed.

  ‘What’s up, Grampus?’ Isa bent to kiss his cheek before she sat back down. She seemed a little brighter.

  Sam smiled, putting his hand over Isa’s. ‘Hey. Don’t let today get to you. There’ll always be – ‘

  ‘I know,’ Isa interrupted him, giving him a half smile. ‘I’m just tired.’

  Sam traced the dark circles under her eyes with his thumb, felt gratified when she leaned into his touch. ‘Have I been pushing you too hard? I should have asked you before this. Is this what you want? I admit, I was so swept up in us, so blown away by your work that it just seemed the natural thing to do but I feel like I’ve steamrollered you into this show and I never asked – is this what you want?’

  Isa smiled, a genuine smile, and he felt relief flood through him. ‘Sam, what you’re doing for me, I could never repay. You’re making my dream become a reality.’

  Sam leaned over to kiss her. ‘Isabel, you are my dream.’

  They left the restaurant soon after that and strolled back to her place, hand-in-hand. The late Fall evening was dark and cold, the rainwater from earlier still making the island’s roads slick.

  In her bedroom, he stripped her slowly, tasting every part of her as he did, the delicious, delicate saltiness of her skin, breathing in the scent of her. When they were both naked, he lay on top of her, trailing his f
ingers down between her breasts, tracing a pattern around her navel, feeling her belly quiver. The feel of her soft, soft skin made him weak. She reached down to cup his balls, stroke his cock until it shuddered and hardened. It seemed, tonight, their lovemaking was slower, deeper, His cock strained, needing to be inside her. She gasped as he slowly entered her, keeping his strokes, slow, long, but plunging deeper with every thrust, her nails digging into his back. They moved together as one, their eyes locked, and he smoothed the hair away from her face. She was his, and he could hardly believe it.

  ‘I am so in love with you,’ he said simply and tears sprung into her eyes. She clung to him, and he could feel her heart beating fast against his chest.

  ‘I love you, Sam,’ she whispered and pressed her lips to his. The joy felt almost unbearable.

  As she reached orgasm, her body arched into his, her head flung back, his pace quickened, slamming his cock so deep into her she must have felt it in her belly. Sam smiled, groaning as he came, grinding his hungry mouth down on hers. Nothing else had ever, would ever feel like this, he knew with certainty, and as he continued to thrust, he forgot Casey, forgot the weird text and forgot everything except for the beautiful girl in his arms…

  He watched Sam as he fucked her; his huge body covering her tiny one, and the man’s rage grew inside him, swelled, an incandescent fury. He gripped the wooden frame, trying to quell the roar of desperate betrayal rising in his chest. His eyes were locked on Isa; her beautiful body had an otherworldly glow in the lamplight of the apartment, the pale sheen of sweat on her skin as she rode Sam, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands pinned to the bed by his and the way that her soft, pink lips opened as she cried out with pleasure. He watched her come with shuddering, delirious pleasure and he had to look away.

  Bitch.

  He climbed slowly back down the stairs. She would scream for him too, with pain, with disbelief, with agony as he drove his knife into her again and again. The thought of her blood pumping out, soaking his hands made his groin tighten, his breath catch in his throat. Yes. Yes. He fantasized how Isabel’s lifeless body would feel in his arms; how he would kiss her lips as they grew cold with the finality of it all, her skin, her beautiful golden skin, turning the palest blue of death. Sam’s face and his grief when he found her body.

  The man smiled. Enjoy fucking her, kissing her, tasting her. She’ll be dead soon enough. He looked up at the faint glow of the window and thought about him – he – would teach them about terror, about fear, about loss. Teach them that however deep, how complete their love, fairy tales always, always ended.

  Zoe squinted at Isa as the younger woman hefted her canvases around the room. Isa was – again – rearranging her work as a means of distracting herself. Soon, a television crew from KOMO would be here to interview her. Isa’s nervous energy was making Zoe’s head spin, and eventually she grabbed her shoulders and forcibly shoved her into a chair.

  ‘Cool your boots, kid.’ Zoe raised a hand, stopping Isa’s objections. She pulled up a chair and took Isa’s hands in hers. ‘You need to slow down. It’s just another interview.’

  ‘With a great big camera shoved in my face.’ Isa rubbed her eyes and suddenly Zoe saw how tired she was, how drained.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  Isa nodded, smiling softly. ‘I really am, Zo. It’s just that my life has changed so much in the last couple of months; my brain needs to catch up with it.’ She looked out of the window. Early afternoon, sunny. ‘Maybe once I get this interview out of the way, I’ll head into the city, chill out at a bookstore.’

  ‘Sam’s not around?’

  Isa shook her head. ‘He’s in Tacoma for a meeting he couldn’t get out of. He’s coming back tonight.’

  Zoe smothered a grin. ‘Another sex marathon?’

  Isa laughed, shocked. ‘Zoe!’

  Zoe grinned, enjoying freaking her out. ‘Hey, don’t apologize. You get yours, kiddo.’

  ‘That sounds so wrong coming from you,’ but Isa was chuckling now. Zoe patted her hand.

  ‘Seriously, though, Isabel. I am so happy for you. Sam’s a wonderful man.’

  Isa, grinning, nodded. ‘Yes, he is.’ Her smile was infectious, and a little smug and Zoe rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.

  ‘You’d better take that filthy grin off your face before the television people get here. And yes, go into the city, relax. You can take my car.’

  Sam sat across from his ex-wife, trying not to let his anger and his utter dislike show. He had to keep his temper, had to. The small coffeehouse in Tacoma wasn’t busy and if Casey were to start antagonizing him… He shook his head.

  ‘What the hell do you think you were doing coming to the gallery like that? What do you want?’

  Casey had obviously dressed up to meet him; her clothes were designer, and her hair and make-up perfect. Sam found himself longing for Isa’s scruffy jeans, the paint stains on her sneakers, her loose waves of hair that would stick her face when she came. Casey looked like a little china doll, all porcelain beauty, brittle and cold. She smirked now.

  ‘I just wanted to see the woman you’re fucking now. She’s pretty. Different from me.’ Her tone was dismissive, and Sam looked at her sharply.

  ‘She’s beautiful, and my sex life is none of your business anymore.’

  Casey leaned forward, triumphant. ‘So you are screwing her. Figures.’

  Sam drained the last of his coffee. ‘Casey, I asked you for this meeting for one purpose only. To remind you of the terms of our divorce settlement.’

  Casey changed tack then. ‘What if I don’t want your money? What if I want to give us another chance?’

  He laughed mirthlessly. ‘You’re delusional. I pay you a very, very generous alimony and all you have to do is stay away from me and away from my family. Are you telling me you want to risk losing your only means of income? How is the career, by the way?’

  It was cruel, and he regretted it as soon as he saw Casey’s face tighten. Her chin lifted defiantly.

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘Not what I heard.’ Goddammit. What was it about Casey that made his inner asshole come out?

  ‘And whose fault is that?’ She hissed, small flecks of saliva spraying from her gritted teeth.

  ‘Possibly the alcohol, the drugs.’ Ah, screw it, she deserved every bit of his vitriol.

  Sam sighed. ‘Whatever. Stay away from me, stay away from Isa. And stop sending me text messages.’

  Casey scowled. ‘What text messages?’

  Sam gave a tired laugh. ‘Stop it. You know very well. The text messages. One for every day for the past week. She’s beautiful. She’s sweet. Do you love her? So on and so on. What are you trying to do, freak me out? It won’t work.’

  ‘It wasn’t me.’

  Sam snorted. ‘Whatever you say but it ends now.’

  Casey hesitated then spoke so softly he could barely hear. ‘Do you?’

  ‘What?’

  Another long silence. ‘Do you love her?’

  Sam took a deep breath in. ‘Very much. Goodbye, Casey. Remember what I said.’ He stood up to go, satisfied he’d got his message across. Casey was spiteful, petty, but she wasn’t stupid. The divorce settlement paid for her entire life – hell, it would pay for five people’s lives. She wouldn’t risk that.

  Sam threw some dollar bills onto the table. Before he could reach the door, she called out to him.

  ‘Sam?’

  He turned, sighing. What now? Casey had a nasty smirk on her face.

  ‘She doesn’t know about me, does she?’

  Sam slammed the door on the way out.

  The interview had been less stressful than she’d imagined and spending the rest of the afternoon immersed in books had been blissful. Now, though, it was dark and Isa was hungry, tired and wanted to see Sam. She checked her watch. Five to six. She had tried calling him a little while ago, but it had gone to voicemail.

  Her bag heavy with books, she walked quickly back to th
e parking garage. Rush hour and the city streets were jammed with traffic. She risked jaywalking across a couple of streets to get to her destination quicker – giving the finger to some jocks who cat-called her, much to their amusement.

  Finally, she pressed the button for her floor and leaned against the cool metal elevator wall and tried to call Sam again. Voicemail again. She shrugged, grinning to herself. The meeting must have run long. Poor Sam. She’d make it up to him tonight. The elevator stopped, and she stepped out into the gloom of the parking garage.

  She didn’t have time to scream before a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was falling…

  Sam realized his phone was dead just as the ferryboat slid into the island’s harbor. When he got to the gallery, it was in darkness. Zoe caught him as he was climbing the stairs to Isa’s apartment.

  ‘She’s in the city. Seb has a late class. Come in; I’ll make you some dinner.’

  Her attacker hurled Isa to the hard floor and was immediately on top of her. Stunned, she kicked and bucked, biting at the hand covering her mouth. He grabbed her head and bounced it off the concrete. She cried out and immediately the hand was back covering her mouth, her nose. Her head spun, pounding with pain, nausea rising up inside her.

  Her eyes whirled around, panicked, she sought out anything, anything, that would help her, but he pressed down hard on her, grabbing each hand and kneeling on them. She couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. His face, obscured by a dark scarf, something, was in shadow.

  Her heart almost stopped when she saw the knife. She saw it for the briefest moment – then it disappeared, and she felt the cold steel press against her abdomen. Her mind blank with terror, she closed her eyes.