Plain Jane and the Billionaire (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  The irony of it was Calista had more than a passing likeness to her mother. In her day, Mavis Coleman had been an exceptional woman. More than a few times, Calista remembered cars rolling to a stop for a holler. Not once did her mother give anyone the time of day. Her broken heart remained broken. No boyfriend, and no lovers Calista ever discerned. Mavis left the employment of Harvey Bryn and left whatever love for the opposite sex on his doorstep.

  All because of the withered pale piece of jerky currently studying Calista.

  Not a word passed between them as his face drew tight, as if he fought an impending seizure, or a long-denied reality.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured. “I need some fresh air.” With as much dignity as she could muster, Calista rushed through the milling crowd outside, picked a direction, and started walking.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Julius kept pace beside her when he should’ve stayed at the hotel.

  When had he joined her, or was he there all along and she’d been too absorbed in her sorted family history to notice?

  “No.” That was the last thing she wanted. What she wanted was alone time to compose herself, stitch her shattered persona back together instead of the flayed pieces currently dangling from her rear.

  “I guess we’re gonna walk until we reach the Atlantic, then. Which way is the Thames? London isn’t my neck of the woods, so…”

  Finally, she halted and actually paid attention to her surroundings. The neighborhood had changed from the ritzy moneyed section of London to something seedier and familiar. This working-class neighborhood wasn’t so different from Springfield Gardens in Queens.

  Jesus! She’d brought a client here, put Julius in danger. She spun, then sighed, relieved at the sight of two Range Rovers pacing them. The first with Sunny behind the wheel, the second with Edwards. Rhodes and Scotts were on the sidewalk a few yards away. All eyes were on her. Fuck! She had to get it together. Right damn now.

  “Just…give me some space, okay. I’ll meet you back at the plane.” She took off again, moving fast, wanting to get away and clear her head. As if that were possible now that her calm had been shattered.

  “Think you can slow down because I don’t know how long I can keep this up.” Julius huffed.

  Why was he still here, with her, when he barely kept pace? She told him to leave. “I said I’ll meet you back at the jet, in an hour.” She tacked on.

  “No. You’ll stop before my lungs give out and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I told you. I feel sick.” She threw over her shoulder.

  “That’s why you’re practically jogging in a suit and sensible shoes.”

  She stopped, right in the middle of the sidewalk. “Why won’t you listen!” she snapped.

  “It has nothing to do with listening. It has everything to do with you. Whatever you’re going through, I’m here. We’re here.” He gestured to Rhodes and Scotts, who stayed away, giving them privacy. The speculation on Rhodes’ face said he wanted in on the privacy and wasn’t pleased to be on the outside.

  They were here, all of them, which was hard to deny. Worse, they were out here, chasing her instead of protecting the client. She put him in danger and that was unacceptable. Her drama could wait.

  No. Her drama was over. A sharp pivot and a few steps brought her to the first idling car. She climbed in and slammed the door, hoping in vain Julius would leave her alone and take the other car. Sure enough, he climbed in behind Sunny and made himself comfortable.

  She waited for the interrogation and was surprised when it didn’t come. Instead, she found herself listening to his slight wheeze, and hated that she was the cause of it.

  He took out his phone. “Jamison, get yourself a hotel room. We’re staying the night in London. We’ll fly out in the afternoon. Some of us need the extra sleep.”

  “Don’t change your plans on my account. I’m fine.”

  He ignored her and made another phone call. “This is Julius Morgan. I need six rooms… Immediately… We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “We’ll be where in fifteen minutes? You can’t make plans and not tell your bodyguards!”

  “Impromptu plans. What killer can plan for that?”

  She folded her arms and glared at him. “Is this hotel a place you’ve frequented before?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that’s a pattern the man who shot you can follow.”

  “The man who shot me was after Harden,” he replied with certainty and she agreed. However…

  “True. Has he been caught?”

  He paused. “Not that I know of.”

  “Then he’s still out there. Still aiming to hurt Harden. Who’s to say he won’t try it again by shooting you, again.”

  “You may have a point.” He made another call while she stewed. “Davien! Yeah. I’m alive. I need to borrow your townhouse for a day. Hmm? Really… I’ll consider it. You’ll make your staff aware? Thanks, Davien.” Julius ended the call. “Sunny, head for St. James Park.”

  “Who’s Davien?” she asked.

  “One of my oldest and closest friends. Davien, Harden, and I met in boarding school. Along with a few others. We’ve all remained close.”

  “That doesn’t tell me who he is?”

  “He’s a Qari sheik. Compared to him, my bank account is an allowance.” Julius chuckled. “He’s also an irreverent asshole, but he’s family.”

  Family. Without her mother, she wouldn’t have known the meaning of the word. That should’ve made her happy, to have her mother’s love even though there were days when her mother didn’t remember she had a daughter. Instead, her chest was a hollowed-out cavern.

  “I’m sorry about Harvey Bryn.”

  Her head whipped around to glare at him, but his attention was focused on the passing scenery, giving her a moment to quell her initial reaction. “Sorry about what?”

  “Some men that age hold onto outdated norms. Some don’t believe in addressing subordinates. Harvey Bryn must be one of them to rudely refuse to acknowledge even greeting you.”

  That wasn’t it.

  “How do you know the daughter?” Belatedly, she heard the jealous note in her voice.

  Julius’ head cocked to the side. He must’ve caught that note and his gaze narrowed on her. He’d have every right to put her in her place, tell her to mind her own business. Instead he said, “Why?”

  Calista folded her hands behind her back to hide their shaking. “Sorry. I slipped into bodyguard mode again. If she’s going to be around, we’d need a background check.” Lame excuse but that’s all she could think of.

  He snorted and a fraction of a smile tweaked his lips. “We’ve met a few times, which is easy when you travel in the same circles.”

  “Social circles?” She did not need the visual of Julius and Erica together, mingling. The thought made her hostile.

  “Business circles. She took over her father’s company a few years ago, making her very wealthy. She’s less wealthy now. A few costly mistakes has caused the company to shrink precipitously. If it weren’t privately held, she would’ve been replaced already.”

  So, everything wasn’t perfect in Erica’s life. Good. It was petty and beneath her to gloat, but she was glad.

  “Now that I’ve answered your questions, you can answer mine. How do you know Erica Bryn?”

  “I don’t know Erica Bryn.” She crossed her legs and settled into the leather seat. “I don’t know her at all,” she answered easily as they drove away from the sister she didn’t have.

  Chapter 16

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into an underground garage. Julius walked around the car to open her door, but she didn’t need a man to open a door or help her do anything. She proved that time and again. Though, the gesture was nice. Something went pop, like a shotgun going off. Calista was out of the car, gun drawn and positioned in front of Julius.

  “Get down!” she screamed, prepared to take a bullet. The same pop sound came
from the right, jerking her around to focus on a passing car outside the garage.

  “It’s the Celica.” Julius snickered. His hands were on her waist, as if he planned to shove her out of the way and not cower behind her like a good client.

  She pulled away and studied him, slightly impressed and concerned at not even a flinch from a man who’d taken two bullets. “Let’s get inside.”

  The elevator opened as they approached, and it was big enough for all six to fit inside. It was a short ride to the next level where a man dressed in a livery straight out of Downton Abbey greeted them. “Good evening, Mr. Morgan and company. Mr. Davien informed me of your pending arrival.”

  “Charles. Thank you for the accommodations, especially on short notice.” Julius shook the elderly man’s hand and brought him in for a stiff hug. “I hope I didn’t ruin any plans with Davien away.”

  “Nonsense, sir.” Charles straightened his clothing. “I have nothing better to do than take care of you. Come in and make yourself comfortable.” The foyer opened to a modern, yet surprisingly comfortable home. The living room was done in white and lavender with earth tones intermingled with a circular fireplace in the center of the room.

  “The kitchen and servants’ quarters are one floor down. There are three bedrooms on this level, one with queen-size double beds, each with their own en suite. Also on this floor is the library, gym, and spa. Upstairs you have the two master suites, and the solarium on the roof.” He summed up succinctly with his subtle British accent.

  “Thank you, Charles. Gentlemen, feel free to pick out which bedrooms you’d like. Ms. Coleman and I will take the master suites. Charles, please arrange for our suitcases to be brought from the airplane.”

  Charles gave a short bow. “Would anyone care for some sustenance? The chef has left for the night, but I am capable of grilling a few steaks and sautéing some vegetables,” Charles offered and received several nods, including a nod from Julius.

  “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.” Without waiting for the tour, Calista headed for the floating stairs and the upper floor. A small sitting area greeted her backed by a large mirror. She spotted Julius and Charles behind her and wasn’t surprised. Stepping aside, she gathered her patience and let the butler take the lead. He went left, opening a set of oak double doors to a spacious room with a king-size four poster bed being the dominate feature. The lilac and cream bedroom with matching accent touches around the room gave the space a decidedly feminine touch.

  “I hope this meets your needs, Ms. Coleman.”

  “The room is lovely. Thank you, Charles.”

  He smiled and nodded again and pointed to a closed door. “The water closet is through that door. Also in the closet you will find an assortment of sleepwear and clothing, all new, and at your disposal.”

  Charles and Julius made their departure, leaving her alone with her crowded thoughts. Thinking was the last thing she wanted to do. Instead, she shrugged off her jacket and unclipped her gun from the small of her back. Her shoes were kicked into a corner, freeing her toes and aching arches. It felt glorious to stretch.

  She headed for the bathroom, which was on the other side of the largest closet she’d ever seen. It was the size of a one-bedroom apartment, filled with designer clothing, all with the tags still dangling.

  The bathroom was gray marble, with a claw foot tub, and a shower big enough for an orgy. Cold water splashed on her face didn’t help the circles under her eyes or the defeated cast that had replaced her resting bitch face.

  She needed a bottle, not a drink, and two days in bed to regain her equilibrium. Secretly, she hoped that’s all it would take. Drinking on the job was a no-no. Tonight, it was a yes-yes.

  Returning to the bedroom, she searched for a hidden bar and found none. The closet offered up nothing. She didn’t want to return downstairs and ask Charles. No one needed to know how badly she wanted to get drunk and get numb. Besides, no one would understand, and she wouldn’t explain. Her private life needed to remain private.

  In a home this luxurious, there had to be a bar close by, cleverly hidden from the naked eye. Even if this Davien was a Qari sheik, she didn’t buy him as a teetotaler. The majority of those Arab princes abstained while at home and cut loose the second their jets crossed their borders.

  “Damn it!” If she had to go back out for a stiff drink, she’d drag on her clothes, shove her feet back in her shoes, and demand the car keys even though she didn’t trust herself to drive in England with the steering wheel on the right side of the car.

  “Everything alright?”

  Julius’ voice was a sharp surprise, especially since she had returned to the bathroom. She spun and found him on the opposite side of the room, standing in an open doorway. Behind him, a closet that mirrored her own except for the rows of suits displayed. Apparently, this wasn’t her bathroom, but theirs. He’d discarded his jacket and his tie. The first three buttons of his shirt were open, showing the pale expanse of his chest, a chest that had gained definition since leaving the hospital.

  Not that his physique wasn’t impressive before the shooting. From her initial impression of him at the club, when he’d first snagged her attention—and hadn’t released it—underneath the suit and tie, he was muscular and put together how she liked.

  However, since his release, Julius spent four hours per day in the gym, Rhodes had informed her. The results showed in the muscles straining the arms of his shirt and the thighs of his pants.

  “Yes. I was looking for a bar. Then it dawned on me that your friend is probably Muslim and doesn’t drink.”

  “You’re right. Follow me.” Barefooted, he headed back through his closet.

  Add a perfect ass to the tally of exceptional body parts. Wasn’t fair for a man to have that ass. Calista dragged her gaze away, though his back posed an equal temptation. Broad and whittled to his waist, the hint of definition in his traps, lats, delts, and all the other muscles that made up his back, shifted beneath the threads of his shirt.

  “You’re right. He doesn’t drink, but this isn’t his primary London residence. It’s more of his guest house that he lets his friends use. He prefers his country estate.”

  Just like her closet, rows of clothing, tags dangling, hung from the racks. Unlike her closet, an assortment of expensive timepieces and gem encrusted cufflinks rested in a velvet tray beneath rows of silk ties. Sheik Davien must truly trust his friends to leave valuables on display for any to go missing. Or he was that rich he didn’t care if they did go missing.

  Julius continued, entering his bedroom, a bedroom that was the masculine version of hers. The walls were a deep green, the furniture mahogany, and the bed accented with leather, the sheets were black. It was a bed made for one thing, and sleeping didn’t come to mind.

  It wasn’t hard for her mind to take the leap to him naked, spread eagle on that bed. Her impaled on top of that body. His hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples. The moans, the sighs, the cries, the sounds their flesh each time they merged.

  “What’s your poison?”

  The question yanked her back to the present. Thank God, he faced away because there was no way she could hide where her mind had wandered, not with her practically panting. He touched a panel on the wall next to his bed. The panel clicked and receded into the wall, revealing three shelves, two with liquor. One with glasses and an ice machine.

  Her eyes widened at the bottle of Caskers. She’d tasted the exquisite tequila on opening night at Harden’s club. “Tequila, please. On ice.”

  He fixed her drink and watched her take the first sip, which was sublime on her tongue. The next sip turned into a deep, quenching gulp that temporarily filled the cavern in her soul. Calista refilled the glass and met his steady gaze. “You’re not drinking?”

  He picked a bottle of water. “I’m good.”

  The judgement in his tone didn’t escape her as he crossed the room and touched another panel. With a soft snick it opened a door to a spiral staircase.<
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  “Where does that lead to?” she asked.

  “Rooftop pool.” He pointed to the ceiling that wasn’t a ceiling at all, but the plexiglass bottom of the pool.

  He didn’t invite her. He also didn’t tell her not to follow. Curiosity got the best of her and she took the staircase, one rung at a time with her bare feet. London weather wasn’t known for its warmth, even in the dead of summer. Tonight, was the exception. It was balmy with a slight breeze caressing her skin, making her jacket unnecessary and the kidney shaped pool enclosed in a glass dome inviting. She wasn’t a fan of swimming. The old black female dilemma of what to do with her hair after reared its head. Though, she wouldn’t be opposed to a dip up to her chin if she had a bathing suit, which she didn’t.

  The swoosh of elevator doors opening had her spinning around. She shouldn’t have left her gun in the room. Stupid. But it was Charles wheeling a trolley with two covered dishes. He set the table with silverware, stemware, an unopened bottle of wine, and the plates. When done, Julius pulled out a chair and waited.

  “I did say I wasn’t hungry.” Still, she approached.

  “Then watch me eat.”

  She sat and scooted in, her glass of tequila replacing the empty wine glass. Her nose caught the scent of something delicious. Julius lifted the cover, revealing a T-bone steak, baby corn and carrots, and mushroom risotto. Her mouth watered, her stomach rumbled. So much for not being hungry.

  The first bite proved Charles was a butler and a chef. “Davien isn’t afraid of you stealing his jewelry. Would he be upset if you stole his butler?”

  Julius chuckled. “The friendship would be over.”

  They ate in silence, Julius digging into his meal with relish while Calista ate a few carrots and two forkfuls of risotto. The company was enough without useless conversation filling the welcoming void, thank God. There was nothing worse than aimless rambling.