Irrational (Underneath it All Series: Book Two) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Ava Claire

  “Is that right?” I mused, finally cocking my head in Sadie's direction. She had the same look she had right after we were together, when we were still catching our breath and drenched in each other. That serene look, with a playful grin winking at me through her eyes. “I'll have to get the recipe sometime.”

  “I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you,” Sadie replied somberly.

  I gulped over dramatically, exhaling like I'd just dodged a bullet. “Fair enough. I'll just enjoy my meal and keep my questions to a minimum. Or not related to food.”

  Rose was scarfing down her food like she'd been dreaming about the spaghetti all day and I cringed when I remembered we'd kinda kicked her out. She'd excused herself so we could have time to ourselves.

  I let her eat in peace and down an entire glass of water before I asked her a question. “So you're visiting? How long are you in town for?”

  “Already tired of me, huh?” She tossed her head back and forth, her gold and crimson ponytail swishing in time with her movements. “And after all I did to get you here!”

  I didn't know Rose well enough to know if she was serious or just pulling my leg. Her poker face game was as strong as her sister's.

  Sadie plopped down beside me, breaking the awkward silence with a chuckle. “She's messing with you.”

  She patted my hand and it was so casual that it felt we were crossing a bridge that couldn't be uncrossed. Our eyes met and we shared a flash of panic. I knew a joke would take us back to the ambiguity. Two people who just had crazy sexual chemistry.

  I decided to silence my fears and enjoy the ride, whatever the ultimate destination was. I put my hand over hers, stroking her skin with my thumb. She only held my gaze for a moment, clearly surprised by the show of affection, which just darkened her cheeks even more and made me want to kiss her, then pull her into the nearest bedroom ASAP.

  “You two are gross.” Rose made a gagging sound and as soon as Sadie whipped her gaze in her little sister's direction, she quickly added, “I'm kidding, I'm kidding!” She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and I didn't miss the fact that her voice lost a bit of its pep. “I'm just here for a few days. My mom kicked me out.”

  Her final sentence reached right into my chest, found my heart, and squeezed. I knew what normal people said to such things. 'I'm sorry'. But normal people, with normal, annoying parents, would never get the gravity of having a parent who either wouldn't or couldn't get their shit together long enough to see the irreparable damage they were doing to their children.

  “That's a horrible thing to do to your kid,” I murmured.

  Rose glanced past me to Sadie, her lips and eyes rounding with surprise. When she returned to me, nerve ticking below her eye, she just replied softly, “I know, right?”

  Sadie pulled her hand from beneath mine and vaulted back from the table like shit was getting too real and she was not trying to have any of it. She opened the cabinet beside the fridge and pulled out a bottle of red wine.

  “I don't have anything fancier than the bargain stuff. I hope that's okay.”

  “I was hoping for champagne,” Rose muttered under her breath, just loud enough so her sister could hear. “We're celebrating, aren't we?”

  “What exactly are we celebrating? Bad mothers and store bought spaghetti sauce?” Sadie replied, grabbing two, not three tumblers from her cabinet.

  Bad mothers. I didn't pry, even though I was definitely interested in hearing more. We had that in common too, apparently.

  “How about new beginnings?” Rose offered. “Wine or not, I'm celebrating a few days off from Mom watch duty.”

  Sadie uncorked the wine with an angry pop. “Let's not go there in front of company, okay?”

  “Company? He's practically your boyfriend, not some friend of a friend,” Rose retorted.

  “He’s-"

  Sadie stopped talking when I gave her my full attention. I was slightly bemused, but mostly curious. If she had an idea of what I was to her, and what the hell we were doing, I was definitely all ears.

  “Probably thirsty,” Rose finished for her. She pushed back from the table. “Why don't you let me do that, Sadie? You haven't even eaten.”

  Sadie looked relieved that she was spared from labeling us, but she still watched Rose like a hawk as she poured two glasses, then carefully returned the wine bottle back to the cabinet.

  Rose let out the loudest yawn I'd ever heard, stretching her lanky arms over her head. “Well, it seems to be past my bedtime.”

  I glanced down at my watch. 9pm. Party animal. I kept my quip to myself because it was clear we were kicking her out again, though this time, I wasn't battling the fear that Sadie was going to kick me out.

  I rose to my feet and when Rose threw her arms around my neck and squeezed, I knew that I was in trouble. It was so easy to explain away my feelings for Sadie, but it was clear if I was already fond of Rose and I barely knew her, it was getting harder to hide the fact that I was approaching head over heels territory with Sadie.

  Rose pecked Sadie's cheek then made her way to the back, throwing a, 'Nice to meet you!' over her shoulder before she disappeared.

  Alone with me again, Sadie got real interested in her pasta. If this was the last time I got the chance to be this close to her, to see her this vulnerable, I didn't want to waste it.

  "I have a sinking suspicion that you were about to call me your friend-"

  "Jackson-"

  "And I don't know about you, but I don't do what I did with you a little while ago with any of my friends-"

  "No, you just do it with the women you pay."

  I wasn't prepared for that blow.

  I'd burned through my spaghetti and I was in no wine drinking mood. I had nothing to distract me from the hurt that echoed over me and settled in the pit of my stomach. "Touché."

  "That was-" Sadie reached out and gripped my arm, holding tight until I looked her dead on. "That was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

  I nodded my head once, tossing my napkin over my plate. "It's cool. You're right. I pay for it. It's how we met." The look in her face told me I wasn't the only one wishing we'd run into each other in the produce section or at a bookstore or in the laundromat. Hell, I'd even take Tinder. I wasn't ashamed that I used the services of The Tower. I was ashamed that on some level, she thought I saw her as a piece of ass that I purchased for a few hours.

  There was no escaping it, but getting stuck in it? That was a choice. And I wouldn't sign up for that.

  "We did things a little backwards, didn't we?” I rushed my fingers through my hair, not unaware that rushing was kind of our M.O. at this point. I took a risk going through with our session that first night, especially with all the red flags and reasons I should have walked away. When we saw each other again and the chemistry was back in full, undeniable force, I didn't take a moment to think about what I was doing.

  I dove in.

  Consequences were the last thing on my mind. The ripples that began that first night and brought us to this place were not something I acknowledged or analyzed. That being said, I had no idea that I'd end up at her house, uninvited. I had no idea I'd end up doing the thing that first brought us together—sex—and craving something so much more than her body.

  She put her fork down and seemed to chew her bite for an eternity before she answered. "First comes prostitution, then comes...?" She trailed off, her intensely green eyes asking me a legitimate question.

  Where do we go from here?

  I had no crystal ball. At Colt Enterprises, me and the brightest minds in my field could analyze the data and make calculated choices that 9 times out of 10 were risky and ultimately, we reaped the rewards.

  I didn't see this as a game. As seeking out profits or winning.

  The only thing I knew with burning certainty, sitting in a place that reminded me of simplicity and comfort and all the things I longed for growing up, was that I was where I was supposed to be.

  I wanted Sadie in my life.
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  I drummed my fingers on my thigh beneath the table, uncertain where she was at. Knowing I would have to be the one to ask the question.

  "Are you free tomorrow night?"

  Her pale eyebrows lifted, my question clearly not the one she expected. 'Do you like me?' seemed like something a child scribbled on a piece of paper. And I knew the answer to that question. I wouldn't be here if she didn't like me. If this was going to become something else, something more than the billionaire and the escort, we'd need more nights like this. Talking. Connecting.

  And fucking, of course.

  She pulled her entire bottom lip in her mouth, looking down at the napkin she was nervously fiddling with. "I, uh, have to work the lunch shift at The Red Room. I'm pretty sure I don't have any appointments at-" She cleared her throat as red bloomed in her cheeks. "The Tower."

  The alpha dog in me that wasn't fond of any man touching her but me flared up, but I put it back in its place. Now wasn't the time to beat my chest like a Neanderthal or treat her like a possession. Still, I was a little happy that she could be mine, if she said yes to my next question.

  "Wanna come over to my place? Trust me, you don't want me behind a stove if you want to eat something halfway edible, but you won't starve, I promise."

  I saw an internal debate roar in her eyes, spilling onto her pretty face. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly. Her lips parted like she was about to send out an S.O.S. Her chin had the stubborn set that simultaneously turned me on and drove me crazy. I was a bit of a hypocrite, all things considered. I was just as stubborn. Just as afraid to put myself out there...until now.

  She scrubbed her hand down her face and shook her hair like she was getting in the zone.

  Like maybe, just maybe, she was about to say yes.

  She took a breath and set us both free. “I'd love to.”

  Chapter Eight: Sadie

  I knew better than to hope, but Grandma was making it harder and harder to not get excited.

  I was ready for my presentation. I'd studied old clips of great speakers, from Abraham Lincoln to MLK Jr. I'd drilled my talking points into my head until my notecards were more a formality than anything else. I wasn't speaking at an assembly, forced to look out into a crowd, face to face with peers who could care less about the words that came out of my mouth.

  I’d accepted that my mother would be too busy watching soap operas or washing her hair to come out and support me like the other parents that were sitting in the back of the classroom. My grandmother had made the trek from three hours away, and that was enough for me. It had to be. I wasn't prepared for her piece of good news. She said that Mom was coming. That she was just down the hall in the bathroom, making herself presentable, and she'd be in the back of the room with the rest of the families after all.

  Hope was dangerous. Hope was making my palms sweat and the words that I knew by heart were starting to jumble in my head and it was hard to focus on anything except...she was here.

  I could count on one hand, on a couple of fingers, the number of times she'd shown up to anything school related. Both times I'd started off just as I was now. Falling to pieces, all my hard work evaporating because after all the years of just wanting her to care, to show up, led to this moment. And somehow, without fail, she still managed to make it about her.

  She stayed for the first half of my ballet recital when I was 10, and went out to the car to smoke during intermission. When I shuffled outside after it was over, eyes bloodshot from crying, I found her curled up in the van taking a nap. When I was 12, I had the most A's in the entire school and before they could even get to the part in the program when I walked up to the stage to get my certificate, they had to escort her out because she got into it with one of the other moms.

  My excitement that my mother was here for my presentation was tainted with worry. Not just that she'd sabotage my event somehow, but the gravity at which she'd sabotage it.

  I was out in the hall, staring in the direction of the bathrooms instead of going through my cards one last time.

  "You look nervous," Grandma observed. Her hair was more gray than red, but I looked into a face that I imagined would be my mother's someday, minus the smile lines around the mouth and the kindness in her olive colored eyes.

  I wiped my palms on the front of my black slacks. Black slacks that Grandma helped me iron, expertly wielding the old thing, even though her eyesight wasn't what it used to be.

  "Not nervous," I lied. I patted the notecards in my pocket. I knew the material. I knew what to say. That's not why my hands wouldn't stop shaking. "I'm not nervous about my presentation."

  Grandma glanced down the hall in the direction of the bathrooms too. In the rattiest t-shirt and jeans, hair a mess, shades over her hungover eyes, my mother had slithered directly to the restroom to 'freshen up'. She'd been 'freshening up' for half an hour.

  The classroom door creaked open and Ms. Roberson, my Civics teacher, poked her head out and flashed me a thumbs up. "You're up next, Sadie!"

  Grandma shot her eyes back toward the bathroom and I could have sworn I saw her lips moving, saying some silent prayer, hoping that her daughter wouldn't let me down.

  She hadn't learned that hope was dangerous either, apparently.

  Grandma pulled the sides of her mouth into a grin that was edged with sadness as she pecked my forehead. "Break a leg, Sadie.” Her cane clicked against the floor as she made her way back into the classroom.

  Ms. Roberson read my anxiety as nerves about my presentation and reached out and patted my shoulder. "You're my best student, Sadie. You'll be just fine! When the applause for the current presentation is done, come on in."

  I gritted my teeth and hoped it looked like a smile. Ms. Roberson didn't notice and disappeared back into the classroom.

  The applause began and I had a moment of insanity, flying down the hall like I was going to drag my mom into the room with me, whether she wanted to come or not.

  I came to a hard stop when I heard an uncommon, but vaguely familiar sound.

  It was my mother's giggle...and it wasn’t coming from the bathroom. There was a side corridor, just beside the bathrooms, that the school staff used. It led to the teacher's lounge.

  I took a tiny step forward and strained my ears, doing that annoying 'hope' thing again. I hoped my mind was playing tricks on me, but my mother was definitely talking to some dude.

  My heart balled into a fist when I heard the giggle again. I knew that sound because it fell from her lips whenever a man was in her general vicinity. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard a deep voice ask for her number.

  I knew better than to cry. Than to be hurt or angry. Still, I couldn't stop the hole in my chest from getting bigger and bigger as I marched back toward the classroom, just in time to hear the applause.

  *

  Jackson Colt was making it difficult to not fall for him.

  6:55 PM: (Jackson) - Hey! Was wondering if Rose wanted to come over tonight too?

  My throat constricted because I’d been spending all morning and afternoon trying to compile a list of why dating him, or even going to his place tonight was a bad idea.

  Why I Shouldn’t Go On a Date with Jackson

  He was a client. Considering our last tryst was ‘off the books’, it was safe to say that I could cross him off my regulars list. The parameters of a companion and client relationship were there for a reason. The detachment was key. It protected both sides. The unraveling had begun that first night when I stopped looking at him like he was every other guy who strolled in and out of my bedroom when I was at The Tower. With all my discipline and ability to turn off my emotions, to turn off me to take care of business, it just wasn’t an option with Jackson. Not then, and definitely not now.

  I knew better. Hadn’t my mother beat all that pesky nonsense out of my head with every disappointment? Didn’t I know that pinning anything, including hope, on anyone but myself and Rose was a recipe for disaster?

  I’d been
smart enough in college, walking the line and never allowing anyone close enough that their inevitable departure could do anything more than make me shrug. When Jackson got bored with me, or decided he wanted some socialite that was easy in bed, easy to read, and easy to love, I wouldn’t just brush off my shoulders and carry on.

  I was so screwed.

  And not the good kind of screwing, like we’d done the night before.

  Rose started arguing the defendant’s case on the screen, screaming at the DA because he had it all wrong.

  I picked at a loose thread and chuckled to myself. The rest of the list faded to black and there was just my sister. Safe. Happy. And she was the reason I didn’t flake on Jackson. I wanted to convince myself that he didn’t know me. That I’d never let him know me, but that text he sent, inviting her, was proof that he knew me well enough to know that my sister meant the world to me, and including her when he didn’t have to would score him an infinite number of points in my book.

  I hadn’t even started getting ready, even though it was an hour out from the 8pm I’d confirmed with a ‘K’. I’d been gearing up for a last minute bug or flu-like symptoms, like I’d used on Gail.

  Looking at my phone, heart swimming in my chest and tears swimming in my eyes, I asked Rose a question I already knew the answer to.

  “I know that Law and Order is life and death to you, but if you’re interested, Jackson invited us to his place.”

  She was literally two feet away from the TV, legs crossed beneath her. She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and knee high socks with her pale hair in a single braid draped over her shoulder. She was the spitting image of so many afternoons back at home. It reminded me that while it was easy to focus on what was missing when we were growing up, I couldn’t forget the good times and the moments that made me smile.

  Rose swiped the remote from where it was dutifully perched beside her and muted the volume. “I’m sorry, it sounded like you just invited me to your boyfriend’s castle?!”

  “Jesus, Rose,” I said, much needed laughter falling from my lips. “What am I going to do with you? First off, he’s not my boyfriend, and second, he’s not a Disney prince. He doesn’t live in a castle.”