The Billionaire's Last Fling (Scandal, Inc Book 5)

by Avery James

That sounds like a bad idea.

  So how was the date?

  Wasn’t a date.

  Looked like one to me.

  So you agree?

  Looks can be deceiving.

  How so.

  For one, I didn’t think you’d be so flexible, he wrote.

  And your blonde?

  Well, she’s not mine. I haven’t tested her flexibility yet. And it was a favor.

  For who?

  You, he wrote.

  Explain? she wrote.

  “That’s not good,” Maggie said. “You’re doing the furrowed brow thing.”

  Abby ignored her and read the next text. I traded exposure for a puff piece on your senator. She’s writing it, he wrote.

  You exposed yourself to her? Abby wrote.

  Nah, just you, he wrote. Abby smiled despite herself.

  “What is going on between you two?” Maggie asked. “A second ago, you’re mad. Now you’re giggling.”

  “It’s all good, I think,” Abby said.

  “So you’re cool with leggy?” Maggie said. “She has that hungry look.”

  “It’s complicated,” Abby said. “He said it’s nothing.”

  “And do you believe him?”

  Abby shrugged. “It’s not like I have a ring on my finger. If he wants to go on a date with someone else, that’s fine.” She knew what Maggie was getting at. Her friend just wanted her to be happy, just wanted Nolan to be every bit the gentleman that her husband Harry was. It wasn’t worth reiterating how guys like Harry simply didn’t exist. Nolan was fun and he was interesting, and that was enough for Abby.

  Or maybe it wasn’t. As she watched her phone intently, waiting for Nolan’s next message, she didn’t feel like someone who just wanted fun. She wanted him to be more than that. It just wasn’t worth getting her hopes up. This was why she didn’t date seriously. It took too much mental effort to decide what she really wanted. Well, she was sure of one thing, another night with Nolan wasn’t going to hurt anything.

  See you tonight? Nolan wrote.

  Old Portrait Gallery. 7.

  Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, I have to find out what my date wants for breakfast.

  I hope you’re kidding, she wrote.

  Just preparing for tonight.

  You meant me?

  Yeah, can never be too prepared.

  Or presumptuous. What happened with whatsherface?

  Unfortunately, I had to tell her I’m interested in someone else.

  Yeah? Who? Abby wrote.

  Some American girl who likes cheap wine and hot sex.

  Abby laughed. Is that a proposition?

  Anytime, anywhere.

  Old Portrait Gallery. 7, she repeated. If you need me you know how to reach me.

  Just go to the senator, right?

  Very funny. See you tonight.

  “You have that look,” Maggie said when Abby finally looked up from her phone.

  “That look?”

  “You like him,” she replied.

  “I like this part,” she said. “And he’s good at it. The flirting, the ambiguous intentions. It gets me going.”

  “I mean you like him like him. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone make you smile like that. Just be careful, ok? I don’t want to see my best friend getting hurt.”

  The whole thing just sounded so middle school. Then again, all dating seemed adolescent to her. The uncertainty of it, the nerves.

  “I’m the one who does the hurting,” Abby joked.

  Even though she didn’t have all the information, or maybe because she didn’t have all the information, Maggie had a point. After all, her mind wasn’t clouded by the intoxication of flirting with Nolan. She had a point, a good one. He was in a uniquely strong position to screw Abby over professionally. He’d already demonstrated that. And the fact that she didn’t know his real agenda didn’t help that fact.

  “You can take a go at him tonight,” Abby offered.

  “Yeah? I say we introduce him to Amy and see what happens.”

  “And the blonde?” Maggie asked.

  “Ye of little faith,” Abby said. With her phone still clutched in one hand, she lowered her hands to her hips and looked at her friend. “Whether she likes him or not, she doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Chapter 7

  The Old Portrait Gallery was a private museum that occupied an old brick building in the heart of downtown. In a town dominated by grand buildings with marble and granite columns, its four-story brick facade was almost humble. The building had been painted white long ago but had since worn down to a thin, weathered layer that showed patches of brick through its gaps in the kind of distressed beauty only time could provide. The old windows were kept intact, too, but the inside of the building was thoroughly modern, renovated to a world-class standard.

  The real asset of the building was its underground parking that allowed visitors to come and go from events without being seen by the public. For lobbyists, that was worth its weight in gold. But since it was a nice night, and she didn’t mind walking the distance from the office, Abby decided to walk.

  Abby didn’t know why she was so nervous when she arrived at the gallery. The Cheese Ball was a ridiculous insider event, one she didn’t particularly enjoy attending. Inviting Nolan was supposed to take the pressure off of seeing him again, to wash away any expectations in a flood of shop talk and dairy puns. But Abby wasn’t feeling relaxed at all.

  Her anticipation of seeing Nolan had kept her on edge all day. She’d always prided herself on being unobtainable, disinterested, but the truth was she couldn’t wait to see Nolan. She kind of hated it. She liked him in almost every way, and even when he drove her crazy, well, he drove her wild. The fact that she’d been at the event for half an hour, and there was still no sign of him, wasn’t sitting well with her either.

  She found the Havens holding court in one corner of the room. The head of the dairy lobby had been a client for years, and Amy was carefully tending to each and every relationship in the room. Sometimes Abby wondered how she did it. The crisis management was one thing: see a problem, solve a problem, easy enough, but the long term relationship stuff? Abby just didn’t have the patience for it. At the first opportunity after spotting Maggie and her husband across the room, Abby ducked out of the conversation and headed to them.

  As she crossed the room, she checked her phone for any word from Nolan. The last time they’d spoken, he’d been very confident that he’d arrive on time. No message. Harry greeted her with a smile. “So, Maggie was telling me all about your excitement on the hill the other day.”

  “You mean a madman using a U.S. senator in order to ask me out?”

  “How did that go?” Harry asked.

  Abby sighed. “Much better than it should have. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “So are you two a thing?” Harry asked.

  “Honey,” Maggie said. She knew Abby’s concerns about relationships well enough to know that was a tricky question. “Not everyone falls head over heels the first time they meet someone.”

  “I did,” Harry replied as he looked into his wife’s eyes. It was almost too much to watch. Harry and Maggie were perfect for each other. She was the careful planner, and he was the rebel. They pushed each other. They had a balance. Abby wondered if she and Nolan would ever have a chance at something like that. She felt like they were too similar to make things work. They’d both rush in and then rush right back out. Maybe it would be for the best if he didn’t make it.

  Harry always doted on Maggie, but now that she was pregnant, he seemed intent on satisfying her every need at every moment. Even as he made small talk, his eyes stayed on his wife. At the slightest sigh, he moved towards her, placed a hand on her back, and told her he was going to get her water with lime, and asking if she needed anything to eat.

  “I swear, by my second trimester, he’s going to have me on an IV drip of prenatal vitamins,” she said. “He wanted to hire me a
nutritionist.”

  “I think it’s cute,” Abby said. “And to think, if I hadn’t set the two of you up…”

  “Is that what you’re calling it now?” Maggie asked.

  Abby nodded. Harry’s father had been a client of Haven, Inc., and Maggie’s job had been to keep him under wraps long enough for a deal to get done. Unfortunately, there was a mix up with the files, so when Maggie met him, she didn’t have the slightest clue who he was. “You can thank me whenever you want.”

  Her phone buzzed in her hand. On my way, was all Nolan’s text read. Where the hell is he? she wondered. Maybe this was a passive aggressive way of saying he wanted to be her date instead of meeting her there. No, that wasn’t like him. He was the kind of guy who spoke his mind and acted accordingly. It was one of the things she liked most about him. She’d blown too much money on a new black dress not to be seen by him. She looked out across the sea of faces in the gallery. The main room was two stories tall and ringed by a mezzanine. A few guards stood silently, watching over the artwork, but for the most part, the crowd was free to do as they pleased.

  Abby sized up the crowd as Maggie told her about her latest case. Bankers, lawyers, and lobbyists talked freely with high level staffers and congressmen. The more political someone was, the higher chance they had a little flag pin on their lapel. The lawyers and lobbyists were harder to tell apart. They wore expensive suits and shoes. Save for Abby’s pregnant best friend, everyone drank. And, with each drink, the room seemed to get a little louder, ties and collars a little looser, dresses shorter. Abby wondered how much business the company would get out of tonight’s event. Surely more than a few people were about to make mistakes.

  Her job wasn’t to prevent the mistakes, it was to clean up after them. The kind of people who had the foresight to hire Haven Communications in advance were rarely the kind of people who needed their services. The federal judge having a drink too many before getting behind the wheel, the congresswoman eyeing the law firm partner—they didn’t seem to understand they were making a mistake until it was too late. None of them cared about doing the right thing; they only cared about not getting caught.

  “Do you think we’re like them?” Abby asked as she looked out at the crowd.

  Maggie shook her head no. “We’re much more attractive,” she said.

  “I mean, we like to think we’re better somehow, but wouldn’t we make the same mistakes in their position?”

  Maggie shrugged. “What?” she asked. Abby decided to shrug it off without an answer.

  Abby was thinking about herself and Nolan. She was thinking about the way she hadn’t been able to help herself with him. Sure, she’d made up some elaborate story for herself about having a final fling before getting serious, but the truth was, she’d wanted him, regardless of the consequences, and now she was harboring feelings for a man who was brushing her off for absolutely no reason.

  “Maybe we should put in our time with the dairy lobby before your date gets here,” Maggie suggested. “I spent half the afternoon looking up dairy puns.”

  “You didn’t,” Abby replied.

  “Just wait and see,” Maggie said. “Or maybe we’ll have to wait on that for a minute.” Her glance shifted behind Abby.

  Abby almost jumped when she felt the hand on her shoulder. “Excuse me,” Nolan said. She knew it was him before turning. She’d know that voice anywhere.

  Abby turned and looked at him: dark gray suit, open collar, color in his cheeks, hair slightly tousled. “You made it,” she said.

  “It’s a story,” he said. He placed a hand on her other shoulder and looked at her with a gleam in his eye. “You look beautiful, by the way, worth every bit of trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Abby asked. He was the one who showed up late.

  “Ahem,” Maggie said from behind her.

  “Maggie, Nolan. Nolan, Maggie.”

  “A pleasure,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Why don’t I let the two of you catch up?” Maggie said. “I think I heard my husband calling from across the room. Nolan, it was nice to put a face with the name.”

  “So she’s been talking about me?”

  “Cursing you,” she replied with a smile.

  “I have that effect,” he said. He nodded to Maggie as she headed off, then he turned his full attention to Abby. “When you said the portrait gallery, I thought you meant the National Gallery.”

  “Are you telling me you went to the wrong museum?” Abby asked.

  “I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why dairy lobbyists would be talking about bacteriology or why they were all dressed like grad students.”

  “You’re kidding,”

  Nolan shook his head no and smiled. “I do, however, have a standing invitation to tour the CDC whenever I want, and a few interesting offers from a lab in Pasadena. If I ever contract smallpox, I know just who to contact. Good guys, though. I’m meeting them for a drink at some point.”

  “Are you serious? How did it take you that long to notice you were at the wrong event?”

  Nolan shrugged. “I thought maybe you were having fun at my expense. When you texted, well, I put two and two together. The guys were sad to see me go.”

  “Didn’t anyone think it was strange you weren’t a scientist?”

  “I just let them think what they wanted to think. I told them I was in the private sector, and they all assumed I was working for the DoD.”

  “You know, none of this would’ve happened if you’d just let me pick you up at your place.”

  “Or you could have gone to the right building,” Abby offered.

  “I like my suggestion better.”

  “Of course you would,” she said. She grabbed his hand. “Now come on, let’s do the rounds.”

  ***

  Three days—that was how long it had been since he last saw her. It might as well have been three years, because that was what it felt like. He didn't do this. He didn't get infatuated, didn't fall for someone after just one night. That wasn't how he worked. Nolan had always prided himself on knowing women, on being able to tell what they'd do next, how they'd react to his every move, but Abby was different. Dear lord, was she different. He couldn't tell what she'd do next. She was an enigma. Maybe he'd just never been with someone so unimpressed by money, but that didn't explain the way he felt when he was around her, like he'd been viewing the world through black and white glasses and suddenly everything was in color.

  Whether he saw her in black and white or in color, one thing was for sure. Abby was not happy with him. She had a natural blush in her cheeks, but her eyes were ice cold. She was almost squinting at him as they spoke. So he'd been a little late? Was that that much of a problem? She'd been the one to give him vague directions. So why was she holding it against him? In truth, he liked the way she acted when she was a little annoyed. No one ever treated him that way. The barely concealed scowl, the words carefully chosen to needle him—he could tell she was enjoying being a little mad at him.

  He held her hand tightly as she led him through the crowd, introducing him to one colleague and the next. He did his best to smile and play nice. He tried to feign interest in the conversations, to pretend like he cared about anything other than Abby.

  Some women are most beautiful when they're completely satisfied. A necklace from Tiffany or a designer dress, and they exude an excitement and joy that's almost infectious. Abby was the opposite. The lines of her face, almost ordinary when she was completely at ease, became beautiful beyond words when she had to work for something. Nolan could almost see the fire in her eyes as she looked at him, the rosy blush in her cheeks as she introduced him to staffer after staffer, when she walked him up to her boss, Amy, a woman with a surprisingly firm handshake, and explained who he was.

  Like Abby, Amy was to the point. And she was intense. She had the most perfect posture Nolan had ever seen. There was something in her manner that reminded him of a drill sergeant. “What’s your intention wi
th my Abby?” she asked about ten seconds after being introduced.

  “Nothing honorable, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

  Amy gave a little humph of a laugh and nudged Abby. “Be careful with this one,” she said before turning away.

  “Don’t mind her,” her husband said, “she’s like a momma bear with her employees. Ethan Cole,” he said. “If you ever need anything, my wife’s the one to ask,” he added before following her to the next group of people.

  “She’s fun,” Nolan told Abby.

  “Maybe she’s just honorable,” Abby said.

  “I don’t do sincerity very well,” he said. “I thought I’d go for droll.” The truth was that his intentions with Abby were the closest to honorable he’d ever had. He liked her, and what they had was more than a flirtation, more than a fling. In Abby, he'd met his match, a woman would could stand toe to toe with him without giving an inch. It was exhilarating. He hadn't felt this way in years. “Why don’t you tell me what to do?”

  "Besides show up on time?" she said.

  "That ship has sailed.”

  "Just smile and nod and make small talk.”

  "I'm no good at small talk," he said.

  "You're excellent at small talk," she replied. "Did you think I didn't notice?"

  "With you, it's different," he said. "We're flirting,"

  "So flirt with them," she replied. "Not really, of course, but just flatter them, smile, nod, let them talk. Or you could give sincerity a try." She paused for a moment, then added, “You’re right, stick with flattery.”

  "Is that what you've been doing this whole time, flattering me?"

  "I've been trying to figure out what's going through that gorgeous head of yours," she told him.

  "And I've been trying to figure out how to get you back to my hotel room."

  "I'll give you a hint," she said. "That's not the way."

  "So you're saying if I play nice…"

  "You'll be better off than if you don’t."

  Nolan spotted a man in a suit with what looked to be a Swiss cheese lapel pin heading their way.

  "Any other advice?" he asked.

  "When all else fails, fake it 'til you make it. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself."