The Rebel Billionaire (Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires Book 5)

by Ivy Layne

  "Are you pissed?" Lucas asked.

  "I don't know yet. How much did he offer to pay you?"

  "We never got that far," Lucas said. "I told him I already planned to keep you safe. You're not a job, Charlie."

  "Okay," I said again. "Then I guess I'm not pissed."

  "Not pissed at me or not pissed at Aiden?"

  "Definitely not at you," I said. "I appreciate your telling me and not letting me find out on my own. Did Aiden ask you to keep it a secret?"

  Lucas's silence was its own answer.

  "Harrumph." The disgruntled sound rumbled in the back of my throat, drawing a laugh from Lucas.

  "So, you're still pissed at Aiden?" he asked, still laughing.

  "Mmm. Maybe. I don't know."

  I was and I wasn't.

  It was hard to be angry with someone who loved me so much. I remembered the cool, calculating look in his eyes when he said, "You're fired."

  No, I was still pissed.

  "Yes and no," I explained. "I'm not mad at him for going to see you. I'm still furious with him for firing me."

  "I would be too," Lucas said.

  "You're not going to try to convince me to forgive him?" I asked.

  "No. He loves you and you love him. That doesn't mean you don't have a right to be pissed. I wanted to beat the shit out of Gunner half the time. We didn't agree on anything. Doesn't mean I didn't love him."

  "That pretty much describes my relationship with all of my male relatives."

  "I figured," Lucas said, laughter still in his voice.

  "Does he know we're . . . involved?" I asked carefully.

  "He does. Does that bother you?"

  Without thinking first, I reached out and lay my hand over Lucas's where it rested on the center console. His fingers curled around mine with a light squeeze.

  "No, of course not," I said. "Does he know we're not . . . that it isn't . . ."

  I stopped talking, feeling childish for being unable to articulate our relationship. Calling us fuck buddies out loud sounded so much cheaper than it did when I said it in my head. Lucas squeezed my fingers between his and let out a low chuckle.

  "You mean, did I tell him I wasn't your new boyfriend, and that we're just fucking for fun?"

  My cheeks burned. "Yeah. That."

  "No. We didn't get into specifics."

  I let out the breath I'd been holding and relaxed, absently stroking my thumb over Lucas's fingers.

  Were we holding hands?

  I looked down at the center console and Lucas's much bigger hand wrapped around mine, his fingers curved over mine protectively.

  This was weird.

  So far, we'd had a lot of sex, a few arguments, two major crises, and he’d helped me strip some paint. The closest we'd come to doing normal couple stuff was the night we went out and got dinner together.

  Holding hands was a tiny, unimportant thing. It should be. Shouldn't sex be the thing that made the difference?

  It wasn't with us. Sex had been easy. If I were lucky, it would continue to be easy, because God knew, sex with Lucas Jackson was fucking phenomenal.

  But this?

  Holding hands was something entirely new. He wasn't comforting me after I was attacked or got a threatening note. This wasn't a crisis. This was just Lucas picking me up at my brother’s house and driving me home while we talked about our days.

  Normal stuff. Couple stuff.

  I should put the brakes on right now. I should pull my hand back into my lap. We weren't a couple. Lucas wasn't my boyfriend.

  The fact that I was kind of sort of starting to hope that he might be . . . that wasn't optimism. That was me heading straight for a broken heart.

  As if that weren't bad enough, the next thing Lucas said told me that if I thought I was headed for a broken heart now, it was about to get so much worse.

  "Aiden and I didn't talk about you and me," he said, glancing at me as if to gauge my mood. "But we did talk about your security. After that note, you've got two options. Everyone agrees you need someone with you twenty-four seven until this is resolved. Your choices are someone from the Sinclair team or me."

  "What if I choose not to have anyone watching me at all?" I asked, already knowing what he would say.

  "Don't go there, Princess," Lucas said calmly. "Be smart. My guess is that Hayward hired someone to go after you. The FBI is watching him too closely for him to be doing this himself. He's alibied for everything. Brennan's theory is that whoever was leaving those pictures has escalated. He could be right, but my gut tells me this isn't about your family. This is about you."

  "And you're sure I need to be watched around-the-clock?" I asked.

  I wanted to be safe. I really, really didn't want to get hurt. Still, constant supervision sounded extreme. And annoying.

  Lucas shot me another quick sideways glance.

  "Yes. Here's the thing about stalkers. They always escalate eventually. But it's not a stable escalation. We don't have a flowchart to say that after a certain thing happens—a note, a phone call, sending you flowers, whatever—after that thing happens, now it's dangerous. This guy started with physically attacking you and then sent you a threatening note. Most of the time, it's the other way around."

  "Do you have a theory on why he's coming at me backward?" I asked, curious.

  I'd spent too much time being scared or ignoring the problem to think about the psychology of my stalker. Mostly, I just wanted it to stop.

  "I have some ideas. I want to get a better picture of why Hayward is focused on you rather than your brother or someone else at the company. But as far as his approach being upside down, I think he saw all the security go in and realized it wouldn't be as easy to get to you as he planned so he dialed back his approach. That doesn't mean he's not waiting for an opportunity. The whole idea of constant protection is to keep him from finding that opportunity."

  "Okay," I said." I'd rather have you than one of the Sinclair guys. But don't you have work? I don't want to get in the way."

  I didn't. Watching over me instead of working was a massive intrusion into his life. I was going to wear out my welcome with Lucas Jackson, and when this was over, he'd be so eager to get away from me I'd never see him again.

  The thought was depressing.

  "It's not exactly a sacrifice, Princess," he said with a quirk to his lips.

  "I can pay you for your time while you're guarding me," I said, wincing when his fingers closed tightly over mine, then let go as he yanked his hand back and dropped it into his lap, leaving my fingers cold.

  Dammit.

  "What is it with you Winters’?” he demanded. "Do you always throw money at your problems until they go away?"

  "Yeah, because that works so well on most of our problems."

  If I sounded bitter, it's because I was. Money doesn't erase problems. For every problem you get rid of when you throw money at it, another springs up in its place.

  I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciated all the benefits of being a Winters. It was nice not to have to worry about bills or tuition. But money wouldn't bring my parents back. It wouldn't heal our damaged souls or mend our broken hearts.

  Money didn't save Vance. And money couldn't help Annalise or Gage, who'd both run from home, fleeing their own demons. In Annalise's case, literally.

  "I wasn't trying to be rude," I said through clenched teeth. "But I recognize it's a lot to ask. What do you usually charge for around-the-clock protection? I'm guessing it's a lot. I don't want to take advantage of your being a nice guy by expecting you to watch out for me for free, that's all."

  Lucas busted out laughing. His hand came back to the center console and closed over mine, his fingers twining with my own.

  "Princess, you've got business on the brain. Look, I'm not taking money for this. This thing with us works for me. Just because it's not going anywhere long-term doesn't mean I don't care about you, okay? I won't let anything happen to you. I already told you, you're not a j
ob."

  "But—" I started to protest.

  "Charlie, just because I drive a truck and don't belong to the country club doesn't mean I don't have money, okay? I'm just not into buying stuff. Some people grow up poor, and the first time they have money, they blow it all. I know that feeling, that rush when you can have the things you always wanted. It's almost impossible not to go crazy."

  "But you didn't?" I asked.

  "No, I did. I blew through my first few paychecks from the Army so fast they might as well have gone up in a puff of smoke."

  "What did you buy?" I was curious. More curious when Lucas gave me the side eye, pressed his lips together, and shook his head.

  "Nothing appropriate for your ears, Princess."

  "Hey, I've had my mouth on your cock," I said. "I think we're past appropriate."

  Ignoring me, he went on, "Anyway, after that, I realized that if I wanted to get ahead I needed to be smarter. I started saving, and once I got out of the Army and was making real money, I was already in the habit of socking it all away. I don't live large because I don't need to. If I wanted to, I could retire today and never have to work again."

  "Really? You're pretty young."

  "I have specialized skills. They're worth a lot of money. I like my work, so I'm going to keep doing it. And when I do retire, I'd like to do it with enough money to live very well. I've got a few years left in me before I'm ready for that. But I don't need your money, Princess. Are we clear?"

  "We're clear. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

  "Hurt my feelings?" He made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. "I'm a badass, Princess. I don't have feelings."

  "Harrumph." That statement didn't deserve a true response.

  Since the subject was closed, I went back to something he'd said that bothered me. "You think Hayward is stalking me?"

  "What would you call it?" Lucas asked.

  "I don't know. But my cousin Annalise had a stalker and it wasn't anything like this."

  "You okay with pizza for dinner?" Lucas asked out of nowhere. I checked the dashboard clock and realized it was almost dinnertime.

  "Sure." Was I ever not okay with pizza? No, I could eat pizza every day.

  Lucas turned into the parking lot of a pizza place not far from our street and parked.

  "Let's talk about this in the car, where no one can overhear," he said. "Tell me about your cousin's stalker."

  "It started when we were in high school," I said, thinking back. None of us liked to dwell on the stalker episode, Annalise least of all. "It was so subtle at first that we all thought she just had a secret admirer. She's seven years older than me, so I missed a lot of the details. But it was mostly sweet notes left where she would find them, then little presents, then longer notes that started to get creepy. They stopped for a few years after my parents died."

  "How old was she when your parents died?"

  "Eighteen. She'd just started her freshman year in college, and she moved back home for the rest of the year. She was at Emory—"

  "Did all of you go to Emory?" Lucas asked.

  "Aiden was at Harvard," I offered. "Then when our parents died, he came home and finished school at Emory. It's an excellent school and it's a family tradition."

  "Did they mind that Aiden wanted to go to Harvard?"

  "No." I shook my head remembering the party they'd thrown when his acceptance letter had come in. "No. They never pushed us like that. They were so proud of him. We actually all thought that Annalise would go to RISD or another art school like Vance did. But she was close to my parents and she didn't really like being away from home. Ironic, since she hasn't been home in ages."

  "So what happened?" Lucas rubbed his thumb along mine, the touch of his skin comforting.

  "Like I said, the notes and presents stopped after my parents died. But only for a year. Annalise moved back into the dorm and it started again. But this time, she felt like someone was following her. I don't know exactly what happened to scare her so badly. Things were confused back then. There was a lot going on, and if you think Aiden is protective now, you should have seen him those first years after Mom and Dad were gone. No one would tell me anything."

  "But something happened."

  "All I know is that not long after she graduated, Annalise came home one night terrified. She wouldn't leave the house for days, and then she left and she didn't come back. Now, she travels all the time. She's never home. She takes the most beautiful photographs and makes a good living selling them, but she’d do better if she had a show or got hooked up with a gallery. I think she's afraid to stay in one place that long."

  "And they never caught the guy?" Lucas asked.

  "Never came close. He was very, very smart. We knew it had to be someone local, and that seems to have held up because it stopped after she left Atlanta. That's why my thing didn't seem like stalking. What happened to Annalise was gradual. It grew so slowly, I don't think any of them realized how bad it was until it was too late."

  "It does sound like a textbook case," Lucas agreed. "Your cousin's situation is the most common variety, but not the only one. And before we go in and get a pizza—"

  "And garlic knots," I interrupted.

  "And garlic knots," Lucas agreed, squeezing my fingers, "I want a quick rundown of what happened with Bruce Hayward. Did you have any indication he might have an interest in you before the FBI went after him?"

  "I don't think he has an interest in me. At least not the way you mean. I was working with him on a project. He was providing materials and some staff for a joint development. As things moved forward, I became aware that he was violating the law in a number of different ways."

  "What ways? Specifically."

  "Counterfeit materials, illegal workers . . . it was a long list. I talked to Aiden about it and we agreed that we needed to contact the FBI. We knew it wouldn't be a popular decision and might be bad for the company, but we weren't going to sit there and condone his behavior by not doing anything."

  "So why is this focused on you and not Aiden?"

  "Because I'm the one who worked with the FBI. Aiden and I decided together, but I had the evidence, and I was in the best position to gather more."

  "They fucking sent you in undercover?" Lucas demanded, his fingers closing over mine tight enough to hurt. I rubbed my thumb across his, soothing his anger.

  "That makes it sound so cloak and dagger," I said. "It wasn't really like that. I just kept doing the job I was already doing, only I gave copies of things to the FBI and I took pictures when no one was looking. That part wasn't even a big deal. I just said I was documenting the progress for my report to Aiden. Hayward is so arrogant it never occurred to him that a mere woman might bring him down. Plus, he's one of those people who doesn't think the law applies to him. Regulations are for everyone else, not Hayward. He never saw it coming."

  "So, there is a reason he's focused on you," Lucas said. "Did he ever ask you out?"

  "Once," I admitted. "Aside from the fact that he's old enough to be my father, ugh. Bruce Hayward is sleazy. The stories I've heard from the women in his company, the few he hires, are not good. Groping, innuendo, and lots of threats if anyone mentions a sexual harassment suit. I turned him down as politely as I could and he never asked again."

  "Aiden let you work with this guy?" Lucas asked, his eyes narrowed.

  I narrowed mine right back.

  "Do you want to ask me that again?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "And this time, think before you talk?"

  What did he mean, let me work with that guy?

  Lucas let out a grunt and scowled at me. "He should have been looking out for you."

  I pulled my hand from his and crossed my arms over my chest.

  "First of all," I said in a cool tone, "my brother has always looked out for me. More than I'd like him to, his firing me case in point. Second of all, there are assholes in every walk of life. I'm going to run into them unless I hide in my house. Aiden did
n't like me working with a pig like Bruce Hayward, but it was my project, in my department, and it was too big to pass off to someone else. Don't you run into assholes? Do you turn down every asshole client you meet? Or do you weigh your options and sometimes take the job anyway?"

  I knew I'd made my point when he grunted again and reached out to reclaim my hand. He squeezed my fingers gently before kissing them.

  Apology accepted.

  "So," Lucas said, all business again, "he's angry with you for turning him in to the FBI, more so because you're a woman who brought him low, and one who refused his advances. Does that sum it up?"

  "Pretty much," I said. "Are you sure this is Hayward?"

  "Not positive, no. We're keeping our options open. Hayward is the most obvious suspect." With a final squeeze of my fingers, he released my hand and turned off the car. "You ready to eat?"

  I was. Like a good girl, I waited for Lucas to round the car and open my door for me. It wasn't so much about being a gentleman, more that he didn't want me exposed in the parking lot unless he was right next to me.

  Either way, I won't deny enjoying the heat of his palm against my lower back as he led me into the pizza place. The scent of garlic, cheese, and spicy sauce assaulted my senses. My mouth flooded with saliva.

  Pizza was on my top five list of favorite foods. Fortunately, Lucas and I shared the same tastes. Pepperoni, Italian sausage, mushrooms, and black olives. Yum.

  He led me to a booth and slid in on the same side, effectively shielding me from the rest of the room. I got annoyed when my older brothers and cousins were too protective, but with Lucas, I liked it. Most of the time.

  I was glad he'd turned down the money. I didn't want to be a job. I wanted Lucas to be here for me.

  For now, he was. But I was in trouble, falling for him fast.

  Way too fast, and way too far, sliding under, seduced as much by his company, by him just being Lucas, as I was by his body and his passion.

  I couldn't keep him forever. I knew that. And I knew he'd end up breaking my heart.

  I didn't care. Tucked into the wooden booth, his strength and his heat pressed against me, I let myself pretend that we were on a normal date. That Lucas was mine. If my heart was going to break, so be it. It wouldn't be the first time.