Ally got up and wrapped her arms around her young friend. “Nothing is gone, baby girl. And we’ll keep on pushing the police to find out who hurt you. It’s okay to be scared, just don’t let it rule you.”
Noosh wondered if that went for how she felt about Christo Montecito as well. Later, when she was in bed, she couldn’t help recalling the way he looked at her, remember his body heat as he sat next to her, maddening her senses with his fresh, clean scent. The way he’d touched her face just before they’d been interrupted. There was an intimacy between them, it seemed, and Noosh wanted to hold on to it, cradle it because it seemed so fragile and yet so right.
Part of her wished she could call him right now and talk, that there was something more between them, that they actually knew each other better so she could reach out. She would give anything to be in his arms right now.
You’re being ridiculous, painting him as your knight in shining armor, especially after the way he treated you. But she indulged in the fantasy a little more anyway, thinking back to when his big, thick cock was inside her and his mouth, god, his sexy, soft lips, were on hers.
She groaned and rolled over, pushing away the thoughts. Her back throbbed with pain, and she used that to distract her from Christo, finally falling asleep just before midnight.
When she woke, all thoughts of Christo vanished when she heard the news that Destry Papps was now his party’s official Presidential candidate.
Chapter Seven
Destry walked off of the stage, the convention crowd still cheering wildly. He grinned to himself and then patted his assistant’s arm. “Gerry, they love me.”
“They certainly do, Senator.” Gervais ‘Gerry’ Noll grinned at his boss. Ambitious but kind, Gerry had been with the Senator for years, through everything, through the divorce, and Destry’s fling with Anoushka Taylor. Gerry and Noosh had become friends, but since the split – or rather, Anoushka’s escape – Destry knew Gerry hadn’t seen her.
He’d kept the bad stuff from Gerry all this time – he didn’t want his closet advisor and probable Chief of Staff, should Destry win the election, to know about his poor treatment of the young girl, or of the attempt on her life.
When Destry discovered Noosh had survived the shooting – barely – he’d panicked. Would she go to the police? There was no way she could prove it was him, after all. Was he stupid to have done the deed himself? No. There was no way anyone could prove it was him, and besides…he wouldn’t give up the memory of that night for anything.
Telling his staff he was headed for an early night, he’d instead sneaked out of his house and into the rental car his contact had procured for him. He’d driven the near four hours to get to her apartment, then broke in easily and waited. When she’d come home, he’d watched her for a while from inside her closet, then when she had fallen asleep, walked to her couch and gazed down at her.
So beautiful…with her long dark hair clouded around her head, her blankets kicked off in the late fall heat, and her top riding up to show the most delectable expanse of midriff. Destry had felt his cock harden. He couldn’t risk fucking her and leaving DNA…he’d said her name, hoping she would wake, hoping she would realize she was being murdered…
When she opened her eyes, he grinned to himself, leveling the gun at her belly and firing point blank at her. Noosh had gasped in shock, in agony as the bullet tore into her soft skin and blood began to gush from the wound. Her breathing quickly became labored, but Destry could not tear himself away just yet. He knew he should put a bullet in her pretty head, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, couldn’t ruin all that beauty. Instead, he pressed the muzzle against her navel and shot her twice more, her beautiful body jerking from the impact. So much blood. Noosh lost unconsciousness quickly, and Destry knew she couldn’t survive the terrible injuries he had inflicted on her.
As he left her to die, he bent down and kissed her mouth, just once, quickly. “I told you I’d kill you if you ever left me, Anoushka.”
But she had survived. Some nosy neighbor had seen him leave her apartment – thankfully, he had been masked – and called 911. As he drove back to Washington, he scanned the local news for any mention.
Only a few days later did he catch something on the internet. A news report buried in the pages of The New York Times.
A young British-Indian woman working in New York was shot by an intruder in her home in Queens Wednesday evening. The young woman, named locally as Sarah Marsh, was asleep at the time – police say there was no robbery involved and the victim remains in critical condition at a city hospital.
Sarah Marsh? So that’s the name you gave yourself to escape me, Destry thought, but it irked him that she had lived, even if she was in critical condition. This is what comes of not using a professional, of making it personal. He should have had his guy kill her, he knew, but then again…
Since the shooting, he had stayed far away from her. His star was rising in the political world, and any scandal was out of the question if he wanted the big job. That Noosh hadn’t told the police about him…well, he could see why she hadn’t. Who would believe her? Even her parents, who hated him with a passion and who must have guessed it had been him, had said nothing to the British press either, and Destry knew Noosh must have forbidden it.
Destry was deep in thought. When he was President – and he knew he would be, come November – then he could make sure she was silenced forever. But any whiff of controversy now…no. He’d let her think he wouldn’t try again. Let her think she was safe. Then he’d take it all away, like she’d done to him.
I’ll make you suffer, Anoushka. Make the most of the time you have left, my beautiful girl…
Noosh saw the note on her desk as she wheeled herself into the office the next morning. “It came with these,” Liam said, following her in. In his hand he held a vast bouquet of dusky pink peonies. Noosh took them from him.
“God, they’re beautiful.”
“Like yourself,” Liam said matter-of-factly. “If I weren’t totally gay, I would so turn for you, Nooshy.”
Noosh giggled. She and Liam had always flirted with each other, safe in the knowledge that both of them liked men. “You’re such a slut,” she teased him, and he grinned. He made no move to leave her alone.
“Come on, open the card, I want to know who they are from.”
Noosh rolled her eyes and picked up the envelope. It was expensive paper, heavy, the color of thick cream, and the writing was flowing and confident. Noosh…
She caught a faint hint of fresh linen coming off the paper, and her heart began to beat faster. She pulled out the letter inside.
Christo had written only a few words, but they made her head spin.
Lovely Noosh,
I cannot begin to tell you my happiness at seeing you again. I have wanted to apologize for my appalling behavior that night for months, and now it doesn’t seem enough to say I’m sorry.
My one regret in life is ever letting you go that night. Can you forgive me?
Please, if you would like, please call me.
For my part, I cannot stop thinking about you.
Yours always,
Christofalo Montecito
Her knees shook, her legs felt weak. He was so formal, almost old-fashioned. I cannot stop thinking about you. Nor I you, she thought and grinned to herself.
“Well?”
She had forgotten Liam was in the room. She smiled at him. “From Mr. Montecito, thanking me for looking after him and Mr. Franklin-Hart yesterday. That was sweet of him.”
Liam grinned. “I knew it. I knew some rich mukety-muck would take one look at you and want to sweep you off your feet. And he’s dreamy, too.”
“Dreamy?” Noosh hooted as Liam rolled his eyes. “What are you, six-years-old?”
“So cynical. Okay then, he’s very fuckable, is that better?”
“Much.”
Liam hopped onto her desk and studied her. “You should get on that.”
&n
bsp; For a second, Noosh wondered how Liam would react if she told him she had already ‘gotten on that.’ No. That was her secret, hers and Christo’s.
“Did he ask you to call him? I bet he did.”
“Mind your own beeswax.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
After that, Noosh couldn’t concentrate on anything else. She kept re-reading the note, feeling like a lovesick schoolgirl, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone. What the hell would she say?
One decision she did make was to get rid of the wheelchair, no matter what Ally said. Noosh had brought her cane in with her today, and although her back was painful, it felt good to work her muscles, which were almost atrophying from lack of use. She made sure she walked everywhere today and told herself it wasn’t just because she felt like she needed to get things…going. Working. Just in case she needed to expend some extra energy…maybe…hopefully…
It was five p.m. when Liam called up from reception. “Honey, there’s a delivery for you, but the guy says you need to sign for it personally.”
“God, does he look like a process server?”
“No, sweets. Can you come down?”
“Be right there.”
Noosh took the elevator – she wasn’t confident enough with stairs yet – and hobbled out to the reception. Liam was nowhere to be seen. She glanced around then heard a voice behind her.
“I’m sorry, I made him say that.”
She turned to see Christo smiling at her. God, that smile – boyish and warm all at once. He stepped towards her. “I knew you wouldn’t call, you see, and so I thought I’d give you the option of telling me to leave you alone in person.”
He was close now, and Noosh gazed up at him. “Do you want me to leave you alone, Noosh?”
She shook her head, and he smiled. She wobbled, her legs shaking, and he slid his hands onto her waist, steadying her, pulling her into his hard body to balance her. He stroked her face. “I hate that you got hurt.”
“No biggie.” Her voice was gravelly, but all she could think of was how nice it was to be in his arms. She couldn’t stop staring at his handsome face, his eyes, so soft and full of sweetness. He’s looking at me like that, she marveled, and then a second later, as he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers, she gave an involuntary moan of desire.
“That,” he said in a whisper, “that right there is how you make me feel.”
He kissed her again, his lips firmer this time, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to caress hers, his fingers tangling in her long hair. “God, Noosh…Noosh…”
She wanted him to touch her everywhere as he whispered her name over and over, but then she remembered they were still in the very public reception of her building. Ruefully, she broke away, smiling up at him. “Maybe we should go somewhere less, um, open.”
Christo grinned. “That sounds promising. How about I take you to dinner?”
“I would love that. Let me just get my bag.”
“No need.” Liam suddenly appeared out of nowhere, clearly having been spying on them. He grinned unashamedly at them and handed Noosh her bag. “Here you go, sweets, I thought you might need this. Ally says have a good night, by the way.”
Noosh gave him a mock-scowl. “All of this seems very…planned.”
Christo laughed. “Don’t blame Liam, blame me. I’m afraid I’ve had my spies out for a couple of days – and Liam is remarkably easy to bribe.”
Noosh gaped at them both for a moment, then laughed. Who the hell cared? “Well, then you’d better buy me a really good dinner, Montecito.”
“Warning, she can out-eat a water buffalo,” Liam ducked away from Noosh’s slap. Christo grinned and offered Noosh his hand.
“Shall we?”
To continue reading “No Promises” follow the link below.
No Promises: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
A Billionaire’s Luck
An Alpha Billionaire Romance
Blake Chandler- 22 years old. Has won five lotteries the previous year as he traveled across the country to spread his parent’s ashes and purchased lottery tickets with money they left him and instructions to do. He won twenty billion, but after taxes he’s down to a mere ten billion and is looking for financial advice.
Rachelle Stone- 20 years old, but turns 21 in the first book- In college at UCLA, in L.A. in the Culinary Arts Program. Her mother doesn’t know who her father is and has little to do with her. When she was three her mother placed her in a children’s home. (The same one Max Lane was in, he was fifteen at the time) Her grandparents live in Round Rock, Texas and that’s her only real family. She has abandonment issues.
Part 1 Lucky Stars
Blake
Pinks and oranges fill the sky as the sun sets behind my parent’s home. The mailbox has become my enemy, but I check it anyway. The last letter from the IRS took millions from me. I close my eyes and hope there’s nothing else from them in the box shaped like a large mouth bass.
My father was a novice fisherman, but you wouldn’t know that by the amount of fishing paraphernalia he had accumulated in his lifetime. My mother was not a very good cook, but she had enough cookbooks to stock an aisle in Barnes and Nobles.
They passed away last year, together, right in the house I still live in. I was away at college, thankfully, or I’d be where they are now. A gas leak in the house took them as they slept one night.
I should sell the place and move, especially since I lucked out on the road trip they had me make. In their will they left me three thousand dollars, and I had to use every penny of that money to play the lotteries through every state I went through on my journey to spread their ashes.
Dad was spread in the Atlantic Ocean and Mom in the Pacific. The crazy thing is that I won seven of the lotteries and each jackpot was larger than the next. I ended that week a billionaire.
Thanks, Mom and Dad!
Every time I tell that story I have to thank them. Between them and God is the only way I got that money. I don’t think I’ve ever been this lucky.
Well, the luck is running out as the IRS is finding way after way to get the money.
“Hey, what ya doin’ out here at the ol’ fish box?” my neighbor, Josh asks me as he strides out of his house next door.
He moved here a couple of years ago and we hang out now and then, he’s a bit older than I am. I’m a kid to most at twenty-one, so I get left out of a lot of the block parties the older people have. Josh is a pretty good guy though and a great neighbor.
“Just checking to see if there are any more letters from the evil government, trying to take my money,” I gripe as I close the fish’s mouth and am happy to see there are no letters from my arch nemesis.
“About your money,” he says. “It’s none of my business and I love having you as a neighbor, but why the hell are you still here in the two-bedroom house you grew up in? Get a mansion like all the other billionaires, dude!”
With a shrug of my shoulders, I say, “It’s not the right time yet. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t want to leave the old house behind just yet. I’ll get out of it someday, but not just yet. My parents’ things are all in it and I’d have to pack them up if I move. Frankly, I kind of act like they’re on vacation and will be home anytime. It makes me keep the house cleaned up.”
He chuckles and pats me on the back.
“You should come over and eat dinner with us tonight. The wife made spaghetti.”
“Thanks, but I have a frozen dinner cooking in the oven and I’d hate to let it go to waste. Maybe another night.” I stroll back up the walkway to the old home my parents bought when they had me. It’s looking a little worse for wear and I make a mental note to at least get new siding on it. I’m a freaking billionaire after all.
“Hey,” Josh calls out, stopping my retreat. “Did you say the IRS took a lot of your money?”
I nod and whine, “Yeah, I have no idea what to do about it.”
He jogs up to me.
“My brother-in-law happens to be a man in your position.”
“What position is that, a top player in Halo? Cause hook me up, I love a challenge,” I say as that can be all he means. I do little else since I won the money.
“No,” he says with a laugh. “He’s rich too. Filthy, stinkin’ just like you. He lives in Houston. I could set up a meeting so he could help you figure out your finances and how to keep most of your money.”
“Really!” My heart speeds up with the first good news I’ve heard in a while. “That would be awesome, dude!”
He turns to go back to his house. “I’ll call him and ask when would be a good time for him. You’re pretty much wide open aren’t you?”
“I’m completely wide open. Thanks so much.” I wave and go inside.
I break into a dance as I finally may have someone to help me not only take action to keep my money, but maybe they can help me figure out something worthwhile to do with it as well.
Looks like I got another lucky day!
Max
“For the love of all which is holy!” I jump to avoid tripping over the Barbie dream car hiding at the bottom of the staircase. “Zoey, what did I tell you about leaving your toys lying around? Especially on the stairs!” I round the corner to see my four-year-old daughter diving behind her mother as she sits on the sofa in the sitting room we use for the kids to play in.
“Max!” Lexi shouts at me. “No need to yell! She’s just a little girl. She forgets things. It’s not her fault.”
“Then who’s is it, Lex? You baby these kids. The twins are in pre-k for God’s….”
“Stop!” she interrupts. “Remember there are little parrots in this home and they repeat every word we say.”
Under Her Skin Page 21