His Sweet Torment: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Michelle Love

  Tonight would be the first big test. It was the Golden Globes and Stone was to escort Greer, as she was nominated for her role in her buzzworthy movie, Silent Heart. Dale stayed out of the way of all the dressers and stylists who descended on Greer early in the day and sought refuge in the kitchen with Blair. She grinned at him as she made them both humongous sandwiches. “Just don’t show Greer these—she’s not allowed to eat on awards days.”

  Dale sank his teeth into the soft bread and swooned at the taste. “God, to be an actor.”

  Blair grinned. “Why do you think I stay off camera?”

  Dale rolled his eyes. Blair was gorgeous, slender, and trim. “Ridiculous standards,” Dale said. “Hollywood, where it’s okay to be a drug addict, but god forbid a woman should be a healthy weight.”

  “Preaching to the choir, buddy.”

  “How does Greer not collapse?”

  “Energy gel. But believe me, when we get back here after awards night—especially after the Oscars when she really doesn’t have to watch her weight anymore—she really goes all out and none of it is healthy. Buckets of fried chicken, pizza, and beer. Always a good night.”

  “Sounds like it.” Dale liked that Greer hated the starvation that went with the job. He was surprised she didn’t smoke and said as much. Blair shook her head.

  “No smoking, and when I said beer, she gets it for the rest of us. Greer doesn’t smoke or drink and definitely doesn’t do drugs. It makes her an exception here, I tell you. But heaven for me as her manager. I know a lot of gossip rags call her boring—she doesn’t give a crap. She got herself here from nowhere …listen to me, I’m giving you the life story.”

  “Hey, I’m interested.”

  But as Blair started to tell him more, they were interrupted by a loud voice from the hallway. “Gee? Gee, you here?”

  “In the bedroom, Stone. I’ll be right out,” Greer called to him, her tone calm, even if, already, Dale could pick up a hint of tension.

  Blair and Dale looked at each other, and Dale wiped his mouth, standing to meet the newcomer.

  Stone Holland was an impressive-looking man. His long, blonde hair was swept back in a ponytail, his beard trimmed neatly. He wore a beautifully-tailored bespoke Armani suit. His body was massive, and Dale knew from experience that it was the result of too many steroids rather than hours in the gym. Stone’s eyes were light gray, but the sclera was slightly yellow, and underneath the thick foundation the other man wore, Dale could see acne and pock marks. Yep, this dude is ‘roiding alright, he thought to himself. He held his hand out to Holland. “Dale Fortuna. Miss. McNamara’s personal security escort.”

  Holland, ignoring Dale’s outstretched hand, smirked. “Well, she has me for tonight, so I guess you get to watch on television.”

  “Dale comes with me.” Greer appeared behind them and it was all Dale could do from staring open-mouthed at her. She looked breath-taking. The mauve dress she wore clung to her curves and her long blonde hair was swept up into an elegant chignon. A pale silver clutch bag was in her hand and her jewelry and make-up were minimal, though they enhanced her natural beauty. She caught Dale’s eye and smile.

  Wow, he mouthed, and she grinned. Already, even after just a week, they felt like friends instead of employer and employee. Dale knew his comment could be misconstrued and immediately looked away, maintaining his composure. Greer’s smile faltered a little when she looked at Stone.

  “Stone, you look good.”

  Stone preened. “Thanks, you too. Guess we better get this show on the road. Can’t have the nominee late, can we?” There was an edge to his voice. Dale knew Stone’s films were never, ever going to be considered Oscar-worthy. Even the movie he’d done with Greer was a light piece of fluff. A box-office success, it wasn’t the type of thing the awards organizers even glanced at when it came to awards season.

  Dale rode in the limousine with Greer and Stone, the latter casting him annoyed looks every few minutes. Stone put his hand on Greer’s leg; she immediately removed it. Dale hid a grin. He met Greer’s gaze and saw her mouth hitch up on one side in a grin.

  Dale stepped out of the limousine first as they arrived at the venue, checking all around him, then nodding as Stone and Greer emerged to cheers and flashing cameras. They walked the red carpet, posing for photographs. Dale couldn’t help but notice that Greer stepped away every time Stone placed his hand on the small of her back. The photographers calling to them would never have noticed though.

  Inside the auditorium, Dale went to stand at the back with the other bodyguards. The venue had provided their own security and so all the private hires were shifted off to the side, away from the camera’s reach. Dale kept his eye on Greer from the far side of the room, and at one point, saw her look around and meet his gaze. She grinned and gave him a thumbs up. She felt safe. That’s all he could ask. He raked his eyes over the audience and watched for anyone suspicious. All the security standing with him were inspected too—really anyone in that auditorium Dale checked out, even the celebrities.

  The ceremony started, and after an hour, Dale wondered how they went through a whole season of this bullshit. Fake sentiments, scripted, mostly unfunny jokes, torturous dance numbers …for what? Dale shook his head.

  Things picked up when Greer won her award, and Dale clapped along with everyone else—she was obviously very popular with her peers. Her speech was tongue-in-cheek, self-deprecating, and lifted an otherwise dull evening.

  A few hours later, a wilting Greer slumped gratefully into the back of the limousine. Stone, thankfully, had taken off with someone else—after the paps were gone of course. Greer grinned at Dale.

  “Well, thanks. That went off more smoothly than I had thought. I think you intimidated Stone.”

  Dale grinned at her. “Then he’s easily intimidated, but, good. That guy is a creep. Sorry if that’s inappropriate.”

  “No, not at all.” Greer kicked off her shoes and partially unzipped the top of her dress. “Oh, to get out of this thing. I’m starving.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. Blair told me about the junk food party you have after the Oscars.”

  Greer laughed. “I dream of that every night during awards season. Tonight, I could get away with some pizza if I work out every day this week.”

  “Come on, one-time pizza won’t make you put on any weight.”

  Greer studied him. “You know what? You’re right. Dale, as soon as I make enough money, so I never have to worry about it, I’m going to quit this business and live on an isolated farm somewhere, get as fat as all get out, and keep chickens. And have seven dogs.”

  “Crazy dog lady as a life goal?”

  “Fat, crazy dog lady,” she corrected and laughed. Dale chuckled and shook his head. “What?”

  He smiled at her. “You remind me of my best friend, Padme. She lives for food too. She was pregnant with twins a couple of years back, and she ate for America, or rather, Italy. That’s where she lives now.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “Every day. She lives on the Italian coast with her husband and the twins. You would like their place—all countryside and rustic charm and numerous animals. I spend a couple of weeks there whenever I can go off the grid like them. Enver used to be a well-known tech god …now he’s a happy house-husband.”

  Greer groaned. “Sounds like heaven.”

  Dale smiled. “It is. You ever want to go off grid, I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

  Greer blinked. “Wow. Really?”

  “Sorry, was that too much? I just meant it’s a good place to hideout, and they’re two of the friendliest, sweetest people you’ll ever meet.”

  Greer studied him. “You love them.”

  “I do, very much. We nearly lost Pad a few years ago—a shooting while we were both still F.B.I. agents.”

  “God, how awful.”

  “It was.”

  They rode in silence for a while, Greer’s long-time driver, Jeremy, easily snaking t
hrough the late-night L.A. traffic. Greer sighed. “Dale, I want to thank you. You’ve made this last week so much easier on me.”

  “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

  She grinned at him. “Don’t call me ma’am. I sound like my grandmother. Listen, share a pizza with me when we get back? I want to know more about you and your friends. Maybe I can imagine myself in Italy, eating pasta, instead of here, eating air. I’ll live vicariously through you.”

  Dale grinned at her. “Deal.”

  In the end, they stayed up until near dawn, talking and demolishing two huge pizzas between them. Dale learned that Greer had fallen into acting by accident—her older brother had been an amateur filmmaker and had sent his film off to competition. He’d won, and as an added bonus, a Hollywood agent had called Greer and offered to represent her. “I’d just graduated from college,” she said. “And I had thought about going onto to study law. Suddenly, I didn’t want my life so regulated so planned, so I said yes and moved out here. I thought I would maybe get a few bit parts, but it kind of spiraled.” She looked thoughtful. “I don’t intend on doing it forever.”

  Dale nodded. “I get that from your whole fat, crazy dog lady thing.”

  Greer laughed. “This place …so many opportunities, they say, and they’re right—but what if they are not the kind of opportunities I want?”

  “Don’t do ‘em,” Dale shrugged easily and she grinned.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I should just not do them.” Greer laughed. “I used to be that unneurotic. I wish I could get back there.” She glanced out of the window. “God, I might cancel my morning training session. I need to sleep.” She high-fived Dale. “Thanks for a great night, Fortuna. Get some rest.”

  And she was gone. Dale laughed softly to himself. Blair had been right about Greer—she was the last person he would think of as a diva.

  He showered, then got into bed. The good thing about Greer sleeping in was that so could he. He fell asleep almost immediately, the pizza carbs helping him relax.

  His cell phone beeped two hours later, and groaning, he rolled over to answer it. Blair was calling. “Dale? Oh God, listen, is Greer up yet?”

  “I don’t think so. What’s wrong?”

  Blair sounded stressed and her voice shook. “It’s Stone. He’s dead.”

  Greer sat dry-eyed, wrapped in her robe and watching the television news. Dale brought her a hot cup of coffee and she asked him to sit with her. On the television, they were showing Stone’s body being wheeled out on a gurney, covered in a black body bag. The motel parking lot was swarmed with paparazzi, police cruisers, and ambulances. “I don’t believe this.”

  The reporter was speaking to the camera. “Stone Holland was at the peak of his career when he died tragically earlier this morning. Police say it’s too early to speculate what killed the forty-two-year-old, but say no drug paraphernalia or weapons were found in his hotel room. A young woman was taken to hospital after becoming hysterical. A source says she checked in with Mr. Holland late last night. We don’t have an identification for the young woman, but one thing is certain—it wasn’t Stone Holland’s alleged girlfriend of eleven months, Greer McNamara.”

  “Hell,” Greer muttered. “This is going to be a mess.”

  “You’re not wrong.” Blair appeared, having been let in by security. She looked disheveled and stressed. Dale went to fix her coffee too, feeling useless. Would Greer need him now? And what the hell had Stone Holland been doing?

  He walked back in just as Blair was filling Greer in on what she knew. “The girl was a hooker, my contact says. Looks like the steroids finally caught up to Stone, but we’ll need the medical examiner to confirm.”

  “Jesus. I mean, the guy was a douchebag, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not in a fleabag motel. That’s all that’s going to follow his memory now. Like Elvis on the toilet.” Greer was hollow-eyed and almost rambling now.

  “She hasn’t slept much,” Dale explained, and Blair nodded.

  “Unfortunately, honey, unless we do some damage control, it’ll follow you around now too. Can you see the headlines now? Next time you date ‘someone— “Moving on from the tragic death of her lover, blah blah blah.’ Then every time the anniversary comes around …”

  “God …” Greer groaned her head in her hands. “I feel bad for even discussing this.”

  “I hate to be the asshole here,” Blair said. “But Stone did this to himself. I think the language we use will save us. You and Stone never explicitly said you were in a relationship. We release a statement, ‘I am devastated by the death of my good friend, Stone Holland. My thoughts are with his family, fans, and loved ones at this time.’”

  “Sounds cold.”

  “We can soften it.” Blair looked at Dale, who was standing, leaning at the doorpost and listening. “We might get some crazy fans blaming Greer for this. Happens.”

  “Gotcha. Look, I’m here as long as you want me. You’ll need extra protection for the funeral.”

  “Oh, Goddammit.” Greer had tears in her eyes. “Poor Stone. And I have to go pretend to the world that we were in love. It isn’t fair to his family. They should be the only ones grieving for him. I don’t want it turned into a circus for the family.”

  “Well, it’s up to them how they handle the funeral, but this is what I suggest. Screw the Oscars—after the funeral, you get away. Say you need some space. There will be plenty of time for Oscars—you’re only young. Let people see that you don’t care about them when your friend has just died.”

  “I don’t care about them,” Greer muttered, then she looked at Dale. “Dale …yesterday you had an idea. I don’t know if you were kidding, but the hell with it. If the offer to go to Italy is still open, I’d like to take you up on it.”

  Two weeks later, and Greer and Dale were on a plane to Italy. Dale couldn’t really believe that he and the movie star were sharing coach tickets, but it seemed easier for Greer to hide in plain sight. Makeup-less, her blonde hair stuck up in a bun, she could pass for ten years younger and for any college student going to Italy with her beau. They had decided to drive up to Seattle and fly from there to avoid the photo hawks always patrolling LAX, and so far, their plan had worked. Now, a few hours into the thirteen-hour flight, Greer had fallen asleep, her head on his shoulder.

  Over the last weeks, they had become closer, especially after Stone’s funeral. It had been discovered that Stone had suffered a massive heart attack, brought on, as expected, by his steroid use. After the funeral, Greer had cried for the first time. “It’s just a damn waste,” she said, wiping her face. “What was he thinking?”

  Greer confessed she felt badly for thinking so ill of him when he was alive. “Maybe I overreacted to the whole cult thing,” she sighed, but then smiled at Dale. “But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  He grinned back at her. Their friendship had come to mean a lot to him and now he could not think of her as a movie star. She was just Greer, his buddy …and more than that, they had shared so much time together now, he didn’t even feel as if he was her employee. There was a spark between them, and not just physical attraction. They shared the same goofy sense of humor.

  “Are you falling for the film star?” Padme asked him incredulously when he called her to ask her if she wouldn’t mind him bringing Greer, and although he denied it, he knew he was lying.

  There was that spark, and sometimes it had seemed as if they would both act on t—then they would pull away, remembering the position they were in.

  But as soon as they got on the plane, Greer had relaxed and grinned at him. “So, here’s the plan. We’re going to be the annoyingly loved up college couple, going to Europe for the first time.”

  Her grin was so infectious that Dale laughed. “Honey, I’m thirty-six years old. You can pass for eighteen, but I just look like a dirty old man.”

  Greer laughed. “Nah, just go with it.” She kissed his cheek and grinned as he colored red. “Chicken.”


  “Oh, ho ho, so this is a challenge?” Dale raised his eyebrows at her. “Then you’re on, Missy.”

  So, when she leaned against him and fell asleep, it was completely natural for him to press his lips against her hair. She smelled delicious, of shampoo and soap.

  Dale felt his eyes closing. He woke up a few hours later. The cabin was dark and it was night outside. The flight attendants moved around silently, most of the cabin asleep. Greer drew in a deep breath and sat up sleepily, her hair adorably mussed. She blinked a couple of times, then smiled at him. Their eyes locked. Slowly, Greer leaned forward and pressed her lips a little uncertainly to his. Dale kissed her back—her lips were soft and sweet. The kiss went on and on and on until they were breathless. They broke apart and gazed at each other before kissing again, Greer sliding her arm around his waist and Dale cradling her face in his hands.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered and felt her mouth curve up in a smile against his own lips.

  “I’m crazy about you, Dale,” she said softly. “I think I have been from that first day. I know it’s inappropriate, but I can’t help how I feel.”

  Dale stroked her face. “I feel the same. What say …while we’re in Italy, I’m not your bodyguard?”

  She nodded and kissed him again. “I’m glad we’re staying overnight in Naples when we land …” She flushed. “Not that I’m presuming anything.”

  Dale smiled. “Presume away, beautiful girl.”

  They could hardly wait until the plane landed in Italy and they were checking into their hotel. Blair had booked adjoining rooms for them, but as soon as Dale put their bags down, Greer, her green eyes soft with desire, held out her hand to him. “Join me in the shower?”

  In the bathroom, she slowly stripped, watching his reaction to her body. She was slender, but her breasts were large and firm, her belly flat, and her legs shapely and long,

  “Man, you are one gorgeous woman,” Dale said, and he pulled his t-shirt over his head before leaning in to kiss her again. Greer smiled, her hands reaching for his fly and tugging his pants down. She stroked his diamond-hard cock through his underwear and he groaned. “Damn, that feels so good.”