Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by Parker, M. S.

  In her mind’s eye, she saw him again. They’d been dancing, although she had known something was already bothering him. She’d left to go to the bathroom and when she came back, she’d seen him talking to Grace.

  Five minutes later, he left with Grace and it had hit her like a backhanded slap, that careless, thoughtless cruelty.

  They weren’t exclusive although she’d damn well never tell him she hadn’t been with anybody but him in well over a year. Still, they’d made plans to meet there—he’d never once made plans with her and then gone off with another woman.

  The hurt and the humiliation had twisted inside her, dark and awful and angry.

  She didn’t know why he’d done it, but the why didn’t matter. He’d done it and she couldn’t get past it.

  Shifting her gaze up, she stared at Rocki. Cole, Rocki’s fiancé, wouldn’t ever do that to her… He’d never hurt his woman that way. But Brogan hadn’t had any problems doing it.

  And if it struck him to do it again, he would. Once Brogan got an idea in his head, then he wasn’t going to deviate from it. She knew it as well as she knew her own name. Brogan did pretty much whatever in the hell Brogan wanted, and screw whomever it hurt. He’d even told her that…before.

  He’s never done it to me, though. Not to me. Not like this. Not like this. There had been little things, how he never let her sleep at his place, how he kept her at a distance, but he’d never been…such an ass before.

  A soft sigh hitched in her throat and she groaned. I can’t cry here. Not here.

  “You can’t help that you love him,” Rocki said, gripping Lacey’s hand in her own. “And I know that you do. But sooner or later, you have to stop waiting for him. You have to stop thinking about how much you love him and look at how much he hurts you.”

  Rocki shifted her eyes down at the lingering bruises on Lacey’s wrists and murmured, “And I’m not talking about the kinky shit you all play in your bedroom, either. If you want to get your freak on, I don’t care. But what he did last night, you know it’s wrong. If Cole did that to me, what would you be saying?”

  A faint grin curved Lacey’s mouth. “Not a damn thing. I’d be too busy clawing my boots out of his throat.”

  “Well, then.” Rocki twined their fingers together and squeezed. “You know this isn’t good for you.”

  Lacey looked away. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she tried not to show the misery she felt inside. Wished she didn’t feel it at all. But she needed to let herself feel, and more, she had to let herself think—now, right now, while the hurt was still fresh.

  He’d been in one of his moods, and she’d known it. Part of her had even been a little excited because Brogan in one of his moods was a heady, sexy thing. But he hadn’t taken her home. He’d left with Grace, as he always did when he swung into one of those darker mindsets.

  Lacey was his fun-time, feel-good girl.

  She wasn’t his always girl.

  She wasn’t his, period.

  It was past time she accept that and move on.

  She had to stop this. It was over and done.

  Brogan would only give her so much. Shifting her gaze to Rocki, she said softly, “You’re right. It hurt like hell. But it is what it is. He is who he is.”

  “And he won’t change.” Rocki squeezed her hand once more. “How much longer will you let him hurt you?”

  Swallowing, she rubbed her hands over her face and then lowered them, looking at the table.

  “I think I need to end things,” she said quietly, not looking at Rocki. She kept her gaze focused on the table. She didn’t dare move, didn’t even want to take a deep breath for fear she might shatter.

  All night, she thought, staring at the vivid blue on her fingernails. She’d cried over him all night.

  And it wasn’t the first time.

  Swallowing, she finally let herself look up at Rocki.

  “Over?” Rocki still watched her, her gaze worried and sad.

  “Yeah.” Closing her eyes, she slumped back against the padded booth. “You’re right. This is so fucked up and I can’t keep doing this, but if I let him do it this time, he’ll just do it again and again, whenever the mood strikes him. I can’t go through that again.”

  Her voice hitched in her throat and she stopped. Damn it. No more crying about this.

  * * *

  Brogan Grainger had fallen asleep in a bad mood. He woke up in an even worse mood. The sight of the tangled blonde hair spread out on the pillow next to his didn’t do a damn thing to help things, either.

  He blinked and rubbed his eyes, halfheartedly hoping that would make the hair turn into those crazy, strawberry-blonde curls, but it didn’t work. The mussed blonde coif remained and he had no choice but to think about what he’d done last night.

  The look he’d seen on Lacey’s face just before the door closed behind him.

  Better off, he’d insisted. It was better off. I don’t get tangled up in her. She doesn’t get her hopes up. It’s all better this way.

  He hadn’t believed it then, and he hadn’t been able to fuck the idea out of his system either.

  Now, lying there, the more he thought about it, the madder he got.

  Especially when he let himself acknowledge the fact that all he had to do was just reach out to her last night and he could have had that red-gold hair tangled around him all night. All morning. For as long as he wanted. She was his…and once more, he’d walked away.

  What was he doing?

  A hand touched his cheek. Irritated, he shifted away. Grace sighed. “You know, running from her won’t change how you feel.”

  Kicking his legs over the side of his bed, he shot her a narrow look. “Want some breakfast before I take you home?”

  “No. I don’t think you should waste time on breakfast either.”

  He saw her slim reflection in the mirror over his dresser, watched as she gathered her clothes. “And that means…?”

  “Men. You are so clueless at times.” She pulled her black dress on before she turned to meet his gaze in the reflection. “Last night wasn’t about me. You didn’t even want me.”

  He opened his mouth but she shook her head, holding up her hand. “You called me by her name in the middle of the night. While you slept. Now, I don’t need to hear your excuses and shit. I know how you feel about her—I’ve known for a while, and I still keep chasing after you. Screw me. I’m selfish.” She shrugged but there was an odd glint in her eyes as she continued to watch him. “Normally I wouldn’t give a damn, but I like you. We’ve been friends a good, long while and as your friend…”

  “We’re not friends,” he growled.

  She cocked a brow at him and continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “As your friend, I have to tell you this. You’re losing her. I know that look in her eye—I’ve seen it. It was the look in my eye for years before I finally gave up on my husband and divorced him. You’re losing her. Is that what you want?”

  Brogan swore. Skimming his hand back over his naked scalp, he shook his head. “I can’t lose what isn’t mine. She’s not mine. Lacey and I don’t have anything…”

  “Isn’t she?” She lifted a brow. “If that’s your story, fine.” She paused and then said softly, “But I saw her face last night. If you hadn’t called me by her name, I wouldn’t worry about it. But you did. You care for her—and you’re losing her.”

  Those words were like a punch to his heart. Was she…

  No. Shit. “Grace, this doesn’t concern you.” Lacey and he had an arrangement, just as he and Grace did. They fit each other sexually. Sometimes. But that was it.

  “You’ve hidden from life long enough, don’t you think?” For the longest time, she stared at him. “Not everybody is out to screw you over.”

  Chapter Two

  “You’re really moving?”

  Lacey bit back a smile. It was only the tenth time Rocki had asked. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  She gathered up the neat rolls of corset
s that lined one shelf of her closet. She’d be helping a friend with his bar in Lexington, mixing drinks at her new job, and although she wasn’t about to wear her really nice corsets, she had plenty of casual ones that would do the trick just fine. Cotton and canvas would hold up to spilled alcohol a lot better than silk and lace would.

  “Not permanently, right?”

  “Baby, she isn’t doing this just to torment you, ya know.” Rocki’s fiancé, Cole Stanton, hugged her, rubbing his cheek against her hair.

  “Of course not. I’ve got better ways of doing that.” Lacey forced a smile. It faded fast, though, leaving her staring at Rocki with solemn eyes. “I’ve gotta get away for a while, sweetie. I have to.”

  Brogan had called three times. She had ignored the first two. The third one, he’d invited her to the cabin.

  The cabin—a month ago, that would have delighted her. He went to his little place in the mountains every other weekend, and he rarely wanted company.

  But it was too late. Finally, the anger had worked its way through the pain, through the humiliation, and it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a trip to his cabin to get through to her. She already knew that wasn’t going to happen, either. If he wanted her back, he’d actually have to give her something and she wasn’t talking gifts. She wanted him.

  Brogan didn’t believe in sharing pieces of himself.

  Instead of telling him off as she wanted, though, she’d lied.

  Taking the coward’s way burned a little, but if she’d given him any indication she was leaving, he’d have come over there and she felt too raw to face him yet.

  So she’d lied, keeping her voice cool. By the time he called again, she’d be gone.

  It was just a little white lie—claiming to watch the store for Rocki over the weekend. It wasn’t as if he was ever going to know the difference. Once he was back in town, she’d already be in Lexington, settling into her new life, finding some much-needed distance.

  In a few weeks, he’d move on and she wouldn’t have to worry about facing him.

  Yeah, she was a chickenshit.

  So what, though?

  Rocki continued to watch her. “I just don’t feel like this is the best time for you to be alone.”

  “I’m not going to be.” Forcing herself to smile, she wagged her eyebrows. “I’m going to be working with Lou.”

  Rocki’s opened in surprise. “Lou…as in the sexy, oh man can I please jump him photographer who does our shoots sometimes?”

  Cole scowled. “Who?”

  “Oh, I mean that in the purely theoretical sense, baby, I promise.” Rocki patted his arm. “You’re going to be working with Lou?”

  Lacey nodded. They’d been on-and-off again lovers for years, but for the past two years, it had been all off. Because of Brogan. They were still friends, though, always would be. When Lou had emailed her, mentioning yet again that’d he love to have her on hand at the bar, she’d recognized the lifesaver.

  What drowning woman wouldn’t?

  A jack-of-all-trades, Lou had left working at a garage to run his own bar a year earlier. Photography was his real love but it didn’t always pay the way he’d like, considering he’d only do the shoots he liked, and that wasn’t many, so for money, he worked at other things—and those things were many.

  He’d driven a cab, managed a garage, and now he owned—yes, owned—a bar. He’d inherited it, if she remembered right.

  She’d mixed drinks for the last few years of college. She could do it again.

  And she could hide from Brogan, heal…and spend some time with a guy who made her feel wanted. Appreciated.

  What could go wrong?

  Rocki smiled at her.

  Lacey grimaced. That cat-and-cream smile on her friend’s face shouldn’t make her so nervous.

  But it did.

  Standing on the deck, Brogan stared out over the vibrant green of the mountains and tried to find the peace he had always found. But it wasn’t there.

  Closing his eyes, he found himself thinking of Lacey. He had wanted her here with him.

  He had missed her, damn it. He hadn’t thought it was possible to miss anybody like this, especially since he’d worked damn hard to keep from letting anybody get close enough to matter. But this was an ache inside him, one that just wouldn’t let go.

  It had been three weeks since he had seen her. She hadn’t called, hadn’t emailed. There were no silly little texts on his phone in the middle of the night and no sexy little pics of her modeling a new corset from the shop where she worked.

  The one time he finally had her on the phone, she’d been on the line all of ninety seconds and her voice had been cool to the point of icy.

  Okay. So he had hurt her. He had to fix that. Apparently, Grace was a little more in tune with things than he’d realized. Figured. That woman was right about most things.

  Hooking a hand over the back of his neck, he stared at the mellow gold of the deck. He would go see her tomorrow when he got back into town. He’d buy her something. Lacey was easy to shop for—something to be grateful for. She loved anything shiny, anything silly and anything she could read.

  Grace’s words came back to him. “I don’t think you should waste time…”

  He started to brush it off. But he’d been ignoring that gut-deep need to see Lacey, to call her. Then when he had, she’d acted as if he didn’t really exist—he was just some stranger on the phone and she needed to deal with him so she could get back to whatever she was doing.

  Wasting time—he was wasting time.

  And he’d already wasted too much of it.

  It wasn’t a long drive back to Asheville. Maybe an hour. But it seemed to take the entire day. He’d spent that interminably long drive practicing what he’d say. He’d been an ass. He was sorry. He knew they weren’t exclusive, after all, they’d talked about that a lot, but he had no right to treat her that way and he was sorry.

  And maybe—

  His gut knotted up just thinking about it.

  But he needed to do something.

  Besides, sometimes, when he’d see Lacey at the club, when she was talking to some of the guys she knew, even though it was just casual, he had these moments where his brain just wanted to explode. Where he wanted to grab anybody who was even near her and just pummel them bloody.

  Was it a bad thing, really, to have a real relationship with her?

  It would make her happy. It would maybe fix the awful, ugly rift he’d put between them. And he wouldn’t have to worry about that cold, nasty dread that was spreading through him…that feeling that he was losing her.

  The lights of Asheville gleamed ahead and it wasn’t too long before he was able to turn onto the street of Lush and Lace, the little shop her friend Rocki owned. Lacey modeled some of the corsets, did all the photography and maintained the website, plus worked at the store three days a week. Brogan hadn’t been here more than two or three times, but he knew all about it. Maybe he could pick a few things out for her. He loved the lingerie they sold, loved seeing it on her, loved taking it off her.

  Checking the time, he saw it was close to five. The store closed early on Sundays. That was good. He could ask her on a date. They could go out and he would make it up to her—hurting her the way he had.

  They would talk and…he would fumble his way through the apology. He sucked at apologies because he so rarely offered them. Unless the person mattered, he didn’t bother with them.

  And Lacey was the first person to really matter in a long time.

  Not everybody is out to screw you over…

  He just hoped Lacey had missed him half as much as he’d missed her. It would make it easier to smooth things over.

  He was nervous. It pissed him off, but there wasn’t much to be done for it. It wasn’t an unusual thing with Lacey, though. He’d never been on entirely level footing with Lacey. He’d always felt a little less in control, a little less sure.

  It was the main reason he’d kept he
r at a distance. Seeing her, though, the thought of it had always left him excited, hot…more. She did things to him, made him wish for things.

  But it wasn’t ever like this. He hadn’t ever really worried that he might lose her.

  Losing Lacey… That was just unthinkable.

  “Like hell.” He wasn’t going to lose her. With that in mind, he stormed into the store. They’d have it out, and they’d do it now.

  Shoving open the door, he had his mouth open to say…something. But it wasn’t Lacey behind the counter. It was Rocki and she didn’t look at all sick. For a second, he just stared at her, his mind spinning. And although he already knew, he found himself asking, “What are you doing here? I thought you were sick.”

  “Sick?” Rocki lifted a brow at him. Her mouth curled in an amused little smirk. “Well, I was feeling fine, right up until I saw your face, asshole.”

  Sighing, he skimmed a hand back over his naked scalp. “Okay, I deserve that.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Lacey told me she was covering for you because you were sick. I’d asked her to come to the cabin with me. I guess it was too much to ask for her to just be honest and say she didn’t want to come.”

  “You think you deserve that? You treat her like shit but you deserve honesty from her? Respect?” Rocki sauntered out from behind the counter. She wore boots, the heels tall enough to put her eye to eye with him. Her dark-brown eyes glinted with heat and disgust as she stared at him. “You know, I really don’t get what she sees in you, you stupid ass.”

  “Rocki—”

  She shook her head. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. She’s into you—I know that. But I don’t know why. All you do is hurt her. You’ve done it for the past two years and if she stays around, you’ll keep on doing it.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t hurt her. And what we do is none of your damn business—”

  “I said shut up,” she snarled, leaning in until she was no more than an inch from his face. “You think I give a damn what the two of you do behind closed doors? She likes her sex rough. Fine. Yippee. As long as she’s into it and you don’t do anything she doesn’t want? Have fun.”