The Billionaire Bad Boy Plan

by Michelle Love

  Sam looked up into the frightened eyes of the women he loved.

  ‘Still think protection is a bad idea?’ Isa whirled away from him, sharply bent double and threw up.

  Fire trucks came screaming onto the street then, but Sam could only hear, only feel, the heavy thumping of his heart as he gazed at Isa, his world, his life, and felt the old terror return, the terror he’d long since buried.

  He was going to lose her. Someone wanted to take Isa from him. Someone wanted to kill her.

  And now, in that this moment, he didn’t have any clue how to stop them…

  Isabel Flynn stared out at the pale gold of dawn creeping over the island. The stark, marshal décor of the police station was giving her a headache; her eyes felt loaded with grit. She could not get warm despite Sam’s arms being around her, a scratchy blanket covering her. She could still taste the acrid smoke of the fire and feel the ashy dirt on her skin.

  The detective on the other side of the desk, Det. Halsey was scribbling down notes. He was kind and empathetic but professional. In front of him, the canvas she’d found outside the gallery.

  Her eyes kept sliding to it, disbelieving it was, that it was meant to be her. Her murder.

  Isa swallowed down a wave of nausea, slid a hand over her belly to quell the fear. She closed her eyes but kept imagining that knife was in her now, tearing through her, and a stabbing pain shot through her. Jesus.

  ‘Sweetheart, are you okay?’ She felt Sam’s lips at her temple. She nodded and opened her eyes. Det. Halsey smiled kindly.

  ‘Just a few more questions, Miss Flynn. Then you can go home. We have to ask; is there anyone you know that may want to harm you? An ex-boyfriend? Someone at work?’

  She shook her head. ‘I really don’t.’

  ‘Any bad break-ups?’

  She hesitated. ‘One. His name is Karl Dudek. We broke up a year ago.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Isa sighed. God, she really didn’t want to talk about this. ‘He hit me. Once but that was enough. He was drunk and lashed out. It was only that time.’ She felt bad, suddenly. Karl had been the wrong person for her, had not taken it well when she’d told him she was leaving but was horrified about what he had done instantly, begging her for forgiveness. ‘I don’t think he would do this.’

  ‘We’ll need his address. What does he do?’

  She hesitated and then her shoulders slumped. ‘He’s a cartoonist.’ She saw Sam and the detective exchanged loaded glances. ‘Look, I… Karl wouldn’t do this. We were over; he knew that, he accepted that.’

  ‘He could be jealous of the attention your work is receiving, jealous of your relationship with Mr. Levy.’

  ‘No… I….’

  ‘Isa, we have to investigate every possibility.’ Sam’s voice was low, racked with pain and it made tears spring into her eyes. ‘Someone is threatening to kill you.’

  Her eyes went immediately back to the painting. It couldn’t be doubted the dead woman was meant to be her. The stab wounds were horrific, so many of them, a frenzied attack. Someone wanted to do that to her. Isa swallowed, closed her eyes to shut it out, leaning into Sam.

  ‘Okay… okay…’

  Sam took her home soon after that. As they passed the smoking remains of the gallery, Isa gave a small, exhausted moan and Sam swept her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her apartment. He double-locked the door behind them and followed her into the bedroom. Isa curled up on the bed, and he lay down beside her, curving his body around hers. He stroked the hair from her eyes. ‘You should try to sleep, beautiful.’

  She stared back at him with pain-filled eyes. ‘My body says it wants to; my brain won’t let me.’

  His emotions were swirling, nausea, fear. He kissed her dry lips. ‘I can distract you if you like.’ He was partly joking, trying to lift the mood, but she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely.

  ‘Please, Sam… yes, please…’

  He undressed her slowly, kissing every part of her body as he did. She tasted of smoke, of salt skin, of Isa, and as he drew his fingertips gently down her body, he again wondered how anyone could even dream of hurting her.

  ‘If there was a way,’ he murmured, his lips against hers, ‘I could express how much you mean to me, how much I love you, I would do it…’

  Tears dropped down her cheeks, and she smiled for the first time in hours. ‘Show me; that’s all you need to do. I love you, Samuel Levy. You are my world, my life.’

  He kissed her then, his mouth rough on hers, his hand sliding between her legs, his fingers finding her slick, wet opening, slipping inside. She moaned and ground herself against his hand, her own hands on his cock, caressing his balls, sliding up and down his shaft as it stiffened. He ached to be inside her.

  ‘I’m yours, Sam,’ she whispered, ‘tell me what you want to me to do.’

  He smiled down at her. Christ, she was glorious. ‘Spread your thighs.’

  She did so, opening her legs wide and he pushed them further apart, lifting her to slide a pillow under her hips. His hands kneaded the soft flesh of her inner thighs as he gazed down at her, her dark hair framing her lovely, flushed pink face, her dark eyes, tired but soft. His cock was straining, but he held off, touching every part of her, her breasts, the tiny nubs of her nipples hard, the aureoles pink and quivering at his touch. The line down the center of her stomach, the mound of soft skin that curved down into the hollow of her navel. He traced a pattern around it, knowing how it turned her on and was rewarded by her sharp intake of breath.

  ‘You’re so beautiful, sweetheart, so, so lovely.’

  Her sex had swelled, ripe and soft as a peach under his caress and now, with her hands still stroking his cock, she guided him into her, moaning softly. As he moved, driving himself as deep into her as possible, she kept his gaze, urging him on. He pressed her legs apart as far as they would go, watching his cock slide in and out of her, feeling her muscles contract around it, the delicious wetness of her. Exhaustion and distress had made them both heady and abandoned, and as their excitement grew, he began to slam into her, encouraged by her. He maneuvered so he could kiss her as they both neared climax. She took his face in her hands.

  ‘This…’ she moaned as he drove himself harder onto her, ‘this is all that matters. You and I… this is the only thing that’s real… oh… God…’

  Her fingers dug into his buttocks as she came, clamping her hands on them, willing him deeper, deeper. He felt the hot rush of her climax envelop his cock as he felt himself explode inside of her. They both shuddered and collapsed, but he didn’t want to stop, wanted to possess her in every way. As she dragged air into her lungs, he kissed her throat, her neck, took the soft lobe of her ear into his mouth.

  ‘You and me.’ He whispered, finding her lips with his.

  ‘Forever,’ she replied, and Sam knew then, without a doubt, that she was his.

  Seb Marshall opened one eye and groaned. He heard a chuckle from the other side of the suite and pulled himself into a sitting position. However luxurious the Levy’s penthouse was, the sofa wasn’t meant for a guy Seb’s height, and he rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness. Big mistake. Nausea and pain ripped through his entire body, and he dropped his head into his hands.

  ‘Jesus…’

  He felt a cold glass being shoved into his hand. ‘Drink this; you’ll feel better.’ Cal Levy handed him a glass with a vomit-colored liquid in it. Seb looked at it dubiously, then glanced up at his friend. Cal grinned.

  ‘Best you don’t know what’s in it.’

  Seb sighed then as his hangover sent a shrieking pain through his head, he downed the mixture in one. He gagged, and Cal laughed.

  ‘Give it time; I promise it works.’ He indicated a breakfast tray. ‘You should eat. Bit of a lightweight then?’

  Seb laughed with him. ‘I don’t usually drink, it’s true, but jeez. I didn’t think I would be affected as much as that. What were we drinking in the
last place we went to?’

  ‘Tequila slammers.’

  Seb studied his new friend. ‘How come you don’t look as bad as me?’

  Cal grinned, tapping his abdomen. ‘Iron stomach. Did you enjoy it though?’

  ‘Hell yes, haven’t kicked back like that in quite a while. Mom and Isa are kinda homebodies – you’ve probably noticed. Most of my friends are, now I think about it. God, we’re just sad geeks.’ Seb gathered his dreads up, tied them back with a band he had on his wrist. ‘Talking of Isa, how good was that preview? So proud of her.’

  Cal got up, grabbed the t.v. remote. ‘Fantastic. They loved her too, might be something about it on KOMO.’

  He flicked through the channels. Seb, feeling the hangover cure start to kick in, wandered over to the breakfast tray and started to scarf down pancakes.

  ‘Shit.’

  Seb looked up at Cal’s exclamation, followed his gaze to the t.v. For a second he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Cal looked over at him, his eyes confused and alarmed. Finally, Seb managed to choke out ‘That’s my mom’s gallery….’

  In less than a minute, they were in the elevator.

  Isa glanced out of the window at the journalists milling about in front of the ruined gallery. She sighed, and Sam came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.

  ‘Slow news day.’

  Sam kissed her neck. ‘Beautiful artist loses collection to arson on the eve of grand opening? I’d say that was pretty huge news.’

  Isa shrugged. ‘No biggie.’

  Sam sighed and tugged her around to face him. Her eyes were heavy, lilac shadows beneath them, her usually glowing skin sallow and drawn. He ran his thumbs gently over her cheeks. He knew she hadn’t slept – because neither had he. Someone wanted to kill Isa. Kill her. Sam kept saying it over and over in his head, but he still couldn’t understand it. Why? He could only figure it must be jealousy, could only suspect one person: Casey. But would Casey have honestly gone this far? Would she have the imagination, the moxie to blatantly threaten Isa’s life? The horrific, sickening cartoon of Isa’s murder wouldn’t leave his mind.

  ‘Hey.’ Isa’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he tried to smile down at her.

  ‘Stop thinking about it,’ she ran her hands over his head, looping her fingers gently through the closely cropped curls, ‘Don’t let whoever it was, whatever he or she was trying to do, don’t let them win.’ He saw a new defiance in her eyes, an anger he didn’t recognize. ‘Fuck them, Sam. I won’t be cowed by this son-of-a-bitch.’

  He frowned. ‘We can’t just brush this under the carpet, Isabel; someone threatened your life.’

  Isa’s jaw clenched. ‘I’m sure it’s just someone with a sick sense of humor, maybe someone pissed that a nobody like me was getting all that attention. Or some fucker who gets off on trying to scare women.’

  ‘People don’t usually threaten to kill someone because of that,’ Sam said bleakly.

  ‘I’m much more worried about Zoe,’ Isa continued, ignoring his words. ‘The gallery is her retirement plan… was her retirement plan.’

  Sam ran his hand down her back. ‘You don’t need to worry; Zoe doesn’t need to worry. I’ve already put out feelers for new premises. It’s time Zoe expanded anyway.’

  ‘She won’t take charity,’ Isa smiled gratefully, but her eyes were worried. ‘You’ll have to talk to her, frame it so she doesn’t think it’s a handout.’

  He smiled, pulling her to him. ‘An investment, then.’ He felt her nod against his chest, and he pressed his lips down onto the top of her head. ‘Isa. We have to talk about the threats to your life.’

  She was silent for a moment, then looked up at him. ‘Do you really take them seriously?’

  ‘I do.’ The blood, the knife, her ruined body in that cartoon. No. No.

  Isa pulled him over to the couch. ‘Well, look. The police know about it so…’ Her voice trailed off as she saw the strain that was evident on his face. ‘Sam, I’ll be fine. Please, stop worrying. If we let this ruin…’ She stopped and leaned over, pressing her lips against his.

  He tried to smile. ‘I cannot bear the thought of something happening to you.’

  She stroked his face. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me. It’s just some douchebag trying to harass us.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  She kissed him again. ‘If I thought for a second I was in actual harm’s way, I’d be kicking someone’s ass.’

  Sam gave her a genuine grin then. ‘I’d like to see that. Perhaps I could watch, throw in some Jell-O?’ He pulled her onto his lap.

  ‘Pervert,’ she kissed him, and he laughed, tightening his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

  ‘I’m going to sexually harass you right now,’ he murmured and swiftly maneuvered her onto the floor, his fingers undoing her jeans, tugging them down.

  She wriggled with pleasure. ‘Like I said, pervert… oh God…’ His fingers were stroking her clit, and she sighed, closing her eyes. His lips were against the soft rise of her belly as he continued to stroke her, his tongue tracing patterns on her skin. Maybe she was right. It was these moments that were real when it was just the two of them, skin on skin.

  Isa moaned as his lips trailed up her body until finally, they found hers, their tongues weaving and caressing the others. Her nipples were hard against his chest, her fingers tangled in his hair. He slid his hand between her thighs, found her already wet.

  ‘I want you inside me… now.’ she gasped and, grinning, Sam thrust her legs apart, freed his cock from his pants and plunged into her, brutal, masterful strokes, making her limbs quiver and tremble. His kiss, however, was tender; he swept her damp hair from her face as he moved above her with his eyes never leaving hers.

  ‘I love you, Isabel Flynn,’ and she smiled so beautifully he wanted to scream it again and again.

  They came together, sweating and clinging to each other. After he carried Isa back to bed, curled up with her as exhausted, she fell asleep in his arms.

  Left alone with his thoughts, Sam chewed over the possibilities. He’d hire protection, move her into his apartment in the city. He’d hire private detectives, find out where Casey had been the night before and ask Isa about ex-boyfriends. He didn’t want to scare Isa or her family, but he knew he could rely on Cal to help him out. If Isa knew she was being watched by bodyguards… he knew better than to invade her much-loved privacy, even if it was to protect her. They’d have to be discrete. No-one would get to her if he could help it.

  No-one would take her away from him.

  Zoe, her kind face strained, shook her head. ‘No. No way.’

  A week after the fire, they were in her kitchen, Zoe was baking, cookies, cakes, comfort food. Isa recognized she had gone into what Isa and Seb called her 911 mode: feeling powerless to turn back time, she made sure that there was plenty of food for everyone, a sense of home, of security. It was one of the many reasons that Isa loved Zoe. The kitchen, which had smelled of the smoke from the fire, was now filled with wonderful scents, spices, fruits, fresh bread. Isa grinned to herself; she knew Zoe was worried about her because she was letting Isa steal cookie dough from the bowl without arguing or batting her hand with a spatula.

  Now, though, the older woman had a frown plastered on her face as she stared at her young charge.

  ‘I won’t take charity, Isabel. You should know better than to ask me that.’

  Isa put a hand on her arm. ‘It’s an investment, not charity, Zo. Sam’s offering to go into business with you.’

  Zoe wasn’t convinced. ‘Usually going into business means a fifty-fifty split. Sam’s offering to give me the money, not loan it. I know he’s family but still.’

  Isa flushed a little. ‘Family?’

  Zoe smiled at her. ‘He might as well be. I’m sure he will be at some point. Don’t you?’

  Isa smiled shyly and changed the subject. ‘So, talk to him. You need something, Zo; I know you. You’
ll be bored as hell at home. Let Sam finance a new gallery.’

  ‘I can’t take his money, Isa. I have my pride.’ She looked out of the window to the remains of the adjoining gallery. ‘I consider myself lucky that the fire didn’t damage the house or your place. The insurance will give me enough to set up another place in town.’

  ‘Sam wants to be involved, though, Zo. He wants to finance a bigger place, finally give you the gallery you deserve, the prestige you deserve.’

  ‘That’s my point – give. Sam – and you – are not responsible for what happened.’

  Isa sighed and got up to get a glass of water. She could feel Zoe watching her, curious. She and Sam had decided not to show nor tell Zoe about the death threat, the hideous cartoon. The fewer people who were affected by that particular horror, the better. A knife in the belly. Isa felt a wave of nausea and swallowed hard, downing the water in one. Zoe’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘You got anything else to tell me, Isabel?’

  It was hard to hide things from Zoe, but Isa shrugged. ‘Just some nutball. I’m just sorry he had to take it out on your gallery.’

  ‘He?’

  Isa shook her head. ‘He or she. I don’t know who would do this, but the police can handle that. At least, the insurance people won’t be able to argue.’

  Zoe rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. ‘That’s what you’re worried about? What about your work?’

  Isa shrugged. ‘It really doesn’t matter. I’m sad that I lost my pieces because I enjoyed doing them but as for the actual exhibiting of them, well. It was nice while it lasted but you know me, Zo, I never wanted that life, that attention.’