Falling Hard (Billionaires in Disguise: Lizzy, #1)

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Falling Hard (Billionaires in Disguise: Lizzy, #1) Page 10

by Blair Babylon


  There she was.

  Mannix’s black Lamborghini Gallardo slithered onto the road behind the red car.

  He hadn’t gotten a good look at her car jumping through the sallow pools of the street lights in the night, but it seemed to be a Porsche Boxster, a downmarket Porsche for people who didn’t want to spring for a Nine-Eleven.

  Mannix shook his head while he spun the steering wheel around a corner. Gina’s obsession with labels had influenced him. She had been after him to trade in his Gallardo for an Aventador, which would have meant plunking down an additional two hundred grand that he sure as hell didn’t have in his back pocket, which pissed him off no end.

  Mannix let the Boxster get two car lengths ahead of him on the bridge that crossed the dry riverbed into the university district. Lizzy’s driving had a snappy edge to it. She must like her rides tinged with danger. That boded well.

  He followed her back to her dorm and idled in the parking lot, watching her half-carry the other girl from the car into the dorm that blazed with light.

  So she was a helpful, sweet girl, too.

  That boded even better.

  He raised his cell phone, zoomed in on the girls, and clicked a picture just as the taller girl vomited into the hedge. The cell phone camera was so good that it captured the sparkle from the overhead parking lot lights on the arcing vomit.

  Mannix’s smile took on a grim edge as stripes of pain burned down his back. He threw the Gallardo into gear, jetting out of the parking lot, and let speed distract his mind.

  Theo At Home

  That night, Theo drove to his house in the Apache Tears Ranch development. White block security walls rose on both sides of the road like a wind-carved canyon.

  The garage door clanked up, and Theo drove in, sliding his car into the third parking space. His housekeeper’s blue Accord was in the second space, and his nighttime security guy’s jet black, gleaming pick-up loomed in the first spot.

  They thought it was kind of him, that he let them park in the garage.

  Theo thought it was obvious to shield their cars from the burning desert sun. He had too much space.

  His father would have thought it indulgent to allow the help to park in the garage, but he was dead and so got no vote.

  Theo walked into the house through the sleek, modern kitchen, yelling, “Hola! Rosita!”

  “Hola, Theo! Como esta?”

  “Bueno, gracias!” he yelled back, walking toward her voice in the living room. “Donde esta Noah?” asking where Noah was.

  Noah and Javier, his security guys and cousins, had come on board six months ago, after Theo had moved into the new house when the Santiago Rojas case had started heating up. Rosita had been with Theo since he had moved back to the Southwest after law school when, evidently, he had become either too busy or too lazy to clean his own bathrooms, even when he had rented a two-bedroom apartment downtown.

  “Noah is checking outside,” she called back. “You want supper?”

  “No, thanks. I grabbed a wrap at the office.”

  Rosita came out of the bathroom she had been scrubbing, wiping her hands on her apron. “You shouldn’t eat just a wrap. You need proper food. I put some tamales in your freezer.”

  He grinned at her and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “Thank you, Rosita.”

  Lizzy, Dancing

  Hordes of college students shoved past each other on the ground floor of the nightclub, jamming in the swirling spotlights and glitter from the lasers and mirror ball near the dark ceiling overhead. Smoke hung in the air, drifting like spirits though the light beams. The beat boomed through the haphazard pyramids of speakers in all six corners of the room. The DJ spun good tunes: thumping dance songs that got the whole crowd crumping even while just walking to the bar for a drink.

  Lizzy laid halfway across the bar, her feet kicking far above the floor, and screamed her order for a lemon drop martini to the bartender. She couldn’t hear her own raspy voice shrilling over the blaring music and the people yelling into each others’ hands cupped over their ears. The red glitter ball over on the end of the bar threw spangles that jittered to the beat.

  She checked her phone, but the notification bar was empty. No text from Theo.

  Lizzy slid backward off the bar, and Georgie jostled her while yelling her own order for an apple brandy.

  “You can’t drink that at a nightclub!” Lizzy hollered at her. “That’s a restaurant drink!”

  Georgie shrugged. “I’m obsessed! Deal!” She turned her back to the bar and squinted at the crowd. It was weird that Georgie hadn’t worn her contacts, but Lizzy had driven, so whatever. Georgie yelled, “So what’re you in the market for!”

  “Someone fun!” Lizzy yelled. Someone elbowed Lizzy in the head as they tried to get close enough to the bar to order. She rubbed her head. “No strings!”

  “That’s my girl! You want a particular type? Beefed up, rough scrog? Slow, sensitive guy?”

  Lizzy’s phone buzzed, but a phone number from an six-oh-nine area code appeared. The few people in New Jersey who she might want to talk to were all in her contact list, so that must be from someone else. She denied the call.

  Still no text from Theo, either.

  She snagged her drink off the bar and handed the bartender enough money to cover their bill plus tip. “I don’t know. Just not a blond.”

  Georgie laughed into the blasting music and took her drink from the bartender. An LED in the stem of the glass lit up the apple brandy like it was a magic orb. The top shelf drinks got the glowing glasses, so you could see how much everyone had paid for their drink. Glowing drinks hovered in the dark room like neon ball lightening.

  Georgie said, “That’s the attitude. Why the fuck are you checking your phone every thirty seconds?”

  Lizzy’s casual profanity had rubbed off on Georgie these last two years. “No fucking reason.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Lizzy shrugged and sipped her martini. Sour lemon slid on her tongue and puckered her mouth. The guy might have forgotten to add the sugar, but as long as the vodka was in there, Lizzy didn’t care that much, probably. She screamed at Georgie, “I may have suggested to someone that he could meet us here.”

  Georgie’s expression went all aghast and non-sophisticated. “Not The Dom!”

  “No! Can you imagine him in a college bar, grinding?”

  Georgie laughed and recovered her poise. “No.”

  “Just this guy I met at the Devilhouse party last week. We’ve been texting.”

  “Awesome! Sexting?” Georgie cupped her hands around her ear for Lizzy’s answer.

  “Just texting.” Lizzy switched so she could funnel Georgie’s voice into her ear over the assaulting music.

  Georgie yelled, “Well, maybe there’s some value in that. Is he cute?” They switched.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know if he’s my type.” Switch.

  Georgie flicked one manicured eyebrow to dismiss Lizzy’s silliness, then yelled into her ear, “Your type. Jesus, Lizzy. Branch out.”

  “I like ‘em how I like ‘em. I don’t want to branch out.”

  “Climb on this guy’s branch a couple times and then see if he’s your type.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Lizzy stirred her drink with the swizzle stick, hoping that the sugar had just fallen to the bottom of the glass, but the lemon drop martini was still tongue-shrinking tart.

  “For a guy who you texted and asked to meet you here, you sound entirely too ambivalent.”

  “He’s cute, and he’s got a nice bod, but—”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  And the problem. “He’s just kind of medium.”

  Georgie’s derisive snort annoyed Lizzy. Georgie yelled, “I like my steak medium. What in the hell are you talking about, medium?”

  “His eyes are hazel, kind of light brown but not blue or green or dark or anything. His hair is kind of blond on top but darker on the sides. He’s fit, even stacked, but not juiced.
He’s a lawyer.”

  “Piercings?” Georgie asked.

  “None visible.”

  “Whips and chains?” Georgie’s question sounded more confident.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Oh my God, you might accidentally date an adult.”

  “You are no fucking help.”

  “On the contrary, I am all kinds of fucking help. I’m going to help you get some fucking. Now, either your adult shows up, or he doesn’t, but either way, you’re getting some dick tonight.”

  Georgie was funny when she tried to be crude because it never quite sounded unrehearsed. Real Jerseyans would eat her alive.

  Lizzy bobbled her head to show her dithering. “Yeah. Well, maybe.”

  “Nope, that’s the plan. How about that guy?” Georgie pointed over her drink at a basic frat guy in a tee shirt and jeans with a pouf of black hair on the top of his shaved head.

  “You want me to fuck Mr. Mushroom Head? I might catch a fungus.”

  “Or that guy?” This time, she pointed to a black guy with nicely coiffed hair and sweet smile, laughing with buddies.

  “I don’t know. I just got my drink.” Even if sour shivers ran down her neck every time she sipped it. It was kind of worse than she had thought.

  “I’m going after cutie pie over there. You just mope then.” Georgie slipped into the crowd, sliding around people like she was fog meandering around warm rocks. Her glowing apple brandy led the way like a lantern in the darkness.

  The other glowing drinks bobbed and wove through the tight crowd like alcoholic fireflies in the night. Lizzy missed New Jersey and fireflies for a second.

  A guy next to Lizzy appraised her with a creepy full-body scan. “Well, hello,” he said. “Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you've got fine written all over you.”

  Oh, Jesus. Lizzy kept her hand on her glass, repressing the urge to flip him off. “Hey, look. It’s the cops.”

  Lizzy’s phone vibrated in her hand. The text icon glowed in the corner, and her heart tapped out a drum beat. She opened the text pages.

  Theo: I just got here. Where are you?

  Lizzy typed back: Drinking at the bar. Near the whirling red mirror ball. Georgie dumped me to dance with some guy. A creeper is hitting on me.

  Theo: I’m on my way to rescue you.

  Lizzy thought about going all Jersey girl on him and insisting that she didn’t need any goddamn man to rescue her, but he was just texting. Sometimes, you’ve got to let things slide.

  And the sentiment was nice.

  The guy who was hitting on her stepped closer and leaned on the bar. “The cops must be here to arrest you, because you’ve stolen my heart.”

  “Oh my God. Just get away, creeper.”

  She tried to look for Theo but couldn’t see a damn thing from the bottom of the crowd, like being lost in a shoving, shouting forest. Skanks occupied all the barstools, and Lizzy was just above eye-level with the slopped liquor on the bar. She was definitely nose-level with the funk of dribbled beer.

  She sipped her drink before she remembered that it was gross, and then she had to suck the oily bitterness off her tongue.

  Beside her, the creeper leaned down and said near her ear, “Can I follow you home? ‘Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams.”

  Revulsion rippled through Lizzy’s body, and her shoulders hunched, trying to shake it off. Bitter lemon drop martini hacked up in the back of her throat. She grabbed her purse, feeling for the comforting weight of the Taser inside and stepped backward. “Get the fuck away from me, or I swear to God—”

  “Hello there,” a man’s voice said behind her.

  She looked up, way up, at Theo, who actually stuck up out of the crowd. He had to be over six feet, though anybody over five-ten just looked tall to Lizzy. Theo had that amused-at-her grin on his face again, and laughter lurked in his caramel eyes. At least he didn’t look all broken up like he had last night. Going out was probably good for him. She felt all virtuous about dragging him to a club.

  “Hey,” the creeper said from behind Lizzy.

  Theo glared over her head, his line of sight slanting down his nose at the shorter man. He braced one muscular arm on the bar beside Lizzy, establishing his territory, including her.

  The creeper slunk into the jostling crowd.

  Theo leaned down and said right next to her ear, “So how do you get a drink around here?”

  Lizzy yelled, “Shove your boobs together and scream at the bartender.”

  “I’ll have to try that.” Theo leaned over the bar, and a smiling woman bartender appeared like she had sparkling magic around her. Her corset-like vest was laced tight like an actual medieval serving wench with huge boobs overflowing her cups.

  Lizzy was less than thrilled.

  Theo called out, “A beer, please. Whatever’s on tap.”

  She jiggled as she bustled away.

  Theo said, “Hey, it worked. I shoved my boobs together and beer is on its way.”

  “Moobs. Girls have boobs. Guys have moobs,” Lizzy corrected. “Short for man-boobs.”

  “Moobs, huh?” He smiled that ready smile, a perfect half-circle. He had straight, white teeth, normal-sized teeth, not Chicklets nor choppers. He leaned on the bar, smiling at her.

  Theo might be just a normal guy, but he had a really nice smile, and she liked it when he smiled at her, like he could direct all that smiley happiness at her. Smiley happiness was not something she was used to, and it felt like a caress.

  Lizzy couldn’t help herself and ran her hand up his tee shirt, feeling the ripples of his abs and his rounded, very nice moobs. “Yep, moobs.”

  Theo’s sharp inhale reached Lizzy’s ears even above the wailing music and yammering crowd, and his chest inflated under her hand.

  His tight smile seemed forced. “If I did that to you, you’d be justified in pepper-spraying me.”

  “No pepper spray. Just a Taser.” Lizzy dropped her hand.

  “I didn’t say you had to stop. I was just surprised as all hell. I don’t have pepper spray or a Taser, so I guess I’m defenseless.”

  If that wasn’t an invitation for more, Lizzy would turn in her flirt card.

  Lizzy started at his shoulder this time and trailed her fingers down. His heavy, round biceps strained the dark blue tee shirt’s sleeve like he might burst out of it. He didn’t curl his arm to show off or say something asinine like Welcome to the gun show. He just let her touch him.

  He was more fit than he had looked in those business suits, a lot more. He wasn’t juiced like he had fake steroid muscles, but his arm looked like an anatomical model with every heavy muscle delineated under his skin. Under his clinging tee shirt, his deltoid was a thick triangle that curled around his shoulder and tucked into the slot between his round biceps and triceps.

  Impressive.

  He cleared his throat, and Lizzy looked up. His caramel eyes were a little sharper. “Would you like another one of those?”

  Yes, she would.

  Oh, he was talking about her drink. “Maybe an appletini this time.”

  He leaned over to grab his beer and handed the woman a bill, waving away the change. “And an appletini for the lady, if you would?”

  The woman didn’t glance at Lizzy, just grinned at Theo and mashed her boobs together for a second before she turned to get the liquor from the back wall. She must be trying for a good tip.

  God, it was like boobs versus moobs in here, and Lizzy was unarmed.

  Warmth settled on her bare shoulder beside the strap of her red dress, and Lizzy glanced down.

  Theo’s tan hand hovered near her pale shoulder, and he turned his wrist so that his knuckles grazed her skin from her shoulder down to her elbow, sending shivers through her. Her skin tightened into goosebumps despite the heat in the club from the dancing bodies and hot stage lights above the dance floor.

  “Quid pro quo. Turnabout is fair play,” he said near her shoulder, so she could hear him over the b
eat and the bomp and the screaming crowd.

  Did that mean he would do whatever she did to him? Boundary games could make for a very interesting night. She bet she could make him violate his three-date rule or whatever the hell it was. “We can play that.”

  They shouted over the other screaming people at the bar for a few minutes, drinking.

  Lizzy trailed her fingers across his hand, and then left her hand on the bar while they talked about her exams the next week. Theo reciprocated, resting his warm palm on hers, pressing. Shivers ran up Lizzy’s arm.

  Oh, yeah. She could play that game.

  He probably thought he was obtaining tacit permission for sexual advances, the sweet guy. He didn’t realize who he was dealing with.

  She leaned in, pressing her meager boobs together with her upper arms. She had meant to gap open her top and give him a glimpse of cleavage, but she had no cleavage. Even duct tape couldn’t give Lizzy cleavage. Still, any peek was better than no peek to most guys.

  Instead of looking down her top and then having to give her a peek at his moobs, Theo leaned in, too, coming closer to her lips. His caramel eyes—and she thought of them as creamy caramel, even though green tints flared around his pupils—didn’t stray from her eyes, and he tilted his head.

  His gaze lowered to her lips, like he might be aiming.

  Wow, he was going in for a kiss, at a bar, in public, with a thousand people bopping to the blaring music around them.

  His eyes flicked up, and he looked into her eyes. She had forgotten how gorgeous his eyes were, with those dark gold irises and double row of thick, black lashes. His breath feathered over her lips.

  He-was-going-to-kiss-her-he-was-going-to-kiss-her-he-was-going-to-kiss-her. Her heart did a little tripping thing like a set of triplet notes.

  Just loud enough to be heard over the music, Theo asked, “Want to dance?”

  “Wha-at?” Her breath was caught in her throat.

  He took the empty martini glass out of her hand, shoving it and his beer stein to the far edge of the bar, and he took her hand and led her through the crush of the crowd toward the dance floor.

 

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