Worth the Risk: (A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance)

by Weston Parker

  He clutched her arms, his grip tighter than he realized. "That bastard! He's putting all sorts of stupid ideas in your head. Stay away from him!"

  "Stupid? I'm being stupid because I don't feel welcome in such rarified company? And who do you think you are, ordering me to stay away from someone?"

  "He's toying with you, using you to get to me. He's not someone you should be associating with."

  "I can't believe this conversation," she said with a gasp of rage. Pulling herself out of his grip she slid across the bed and stood up, wrapping the blanket around her. "First of all, you don't get to say who I spend time with. You don't own me. Secondly, this is exactly the problem. You belong to some weird social tier that doesn't easily welcome outsiders. And I feel uncomfortable accompanying you to events, afraid that I'll embarrass you or...bring shame on your house, or some other antiquated emotion that should have been banished by this day and age but isn't. Your wealth makes you different. And I don't know how to...handle these types of events. It makes me feel insecure."

  Brice crawled across the bed and sat, pulling her into the space between his knees. "You don't need to feel insecure, sweetheart. I thought you had a good time tonight."

  "I had a good time with you, but it was obvious that I wore the wrong dress, and I didn't know what to say to you associates, and--"

  He interrupted her skittish recital with a soft kiss pressed to her lips. "Shh...don't worry about those things. I don't care about any of that."

  "You might not, but I do. I don't want to stand out, or embarrass you, or..."

  "You could never embarrass me," he reassured her, but she still trembled against him.

  "Please," she whispered, "let Alex show me some things. He said he had to learn how to blend in with high society himself, so he knows how hard it can be. Don't ruin this for me. I want to fit in; I want to--"

  "Fine," Brice said through gritted teeth. "Let Drake show you the ropes. But be on your guard. And be back by six, so we can have dinner together."

  "Deal," she said, lowering her face to his lips and claiming them in a slow, torturous kiss that had Brice's cock begging for attention. They didn't speak again, beyond satisfied moans, for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alex Drake probably knew more about ladies clothing than he should. As he handed her yet another tasteful ensemble, this one comprised of a blush-pink charmeuse cocktail dress, open toed pumps and a beaded clutch to match, Janna wondered where he'd gained his expertise.

  "You're really good at this," she told him, her astonishment audible.

  His smile was devilishly charming. "Lots of practice."

  "And how does one get so much practice dressing women?"

  "There's an art to making someone look expensive. I had to learn it myself."

  "That might explain why you're such a snazzy dresser, but not why you'd know so much about women's clothing."

  His gray eyes showed surprise at her logic. It looked like he was debating his answer, and then he gave her a wry smile. "You're quite a gem, do you know that? Nothing's getting past you."

  "And you still haven't answered my question."

  "I have six sisters."

  "What?" It was her turn to look shocked.

  "I'm the only boy with six sisters. We were poor growing up, and I mean dirt poor. My mother sewed almost everything we owned, and when I was fifteen, she died. I took over the sewing duties, with the help of the next eldest, Patti. I guess that's where I learned about color matching, materials, and which cuts flatter which type of woman. Patti had an athletic build like yours, and the youngest sister in the bunch, Ruth Anne, she had a carrot top too. Put them together, and it's close enough to your build and coloring to suit."

  Janna couldn't believe what she was hearing. She knew Alex was wealthy, his presence at the fundraiser had confirmed that. But she hadn't realized that he'd built his fortune on his own, apparently rising from the poorest of circumstances to the heights of high society. She wondered why Brice considered him so dangerous.

  Looking into the mirror, she realized that he did have impeccable instincts. The outfit looked as if it had been made for her. Then she glanced at the price tag and realized why it wasn't.

  "Do you ever get past the sticker shock?"

  She saw an amused twinkle light up his steely eyes, and he gave a short bark of laughter. "I'd like to say 'yes,' but even though I've got more money than I could physically count in my lifetime, a part of me still cringes when I see how much some of this shit costs."

  Janna sighed. Sometimes it was too overwhelming when she thought of the gulf between Brice's world and her own. She studied the polished man before her, his outward appearance dark and mysterious, but he'd been completely open with her since their conversation on the dance floor last night. Despite Brice's estimation of his old college rival, Janna saw Alex in a different light. He didn't seem like he was trying to manipulate her, only trying to help her fit in. Time to repay his openness with some of her own.

  "You were right about my dress last night." Alex's expression remained impassive, but she thought she saw a light in his silver eyes. "It was a discount bridesmaids dress. I knew it probably wouldn't be suitable when I bought it, but I didn't know what else to do. Brice gave his driver a list of stores so expensive their names are all unpronounceable, shoved his credit card in my hand, and bid me farewell. But I don't feel comfortable spending Brice's money. Especially when the press, and jaded harpies like Donna Goddard, have no problem calling me a gold digger. So I panicked and bought what I could afford."

  Alex smile softened. "I'd figured as much. Like I tried to tell you last night, you're not Brice's usual arm candy. You've got sense, and class. Not the polished, brittle class of women like Donna Goddard. True elegance has nothing to do with the size of your bank account."

  Janna blushed and mumbled thanks before fleeing back to the changing room to put on her own outfit; the dress Brice had given her on his award-winning date. It was so confusing. Where did she draw the line on Brice's generosity? How much was okay to accept? Why did she feel okay about wearing this dress when she couldn't buy an evening gown, and both would have probably been purchased by the same glossy black credit card? It was too confusing to figure out, even before she added in the Alex Drake variable, the polite southern nouveau riche gentleman who Brice distrusted enough to argue about.

  Returning to the sales floor, Janna handed the outfit back to Alex. "It's beautiful, but I can't afford it."

  Alex nodded, returned his selections to the sales clerk, then took Janna's elbow to guide her out of the boutique and back into the street. "How about some lunch?"

  * * *

  With the looming threat of Brice walking away, it seemed Mrs. St. Simmons had become much more amenable to many of the previously debated contract terms. The negotiations were finally moving forward, and Brice was glad that he could soon devote his attention to something -- someone -- more exciting. It was already difficult focusing on the final details while haunted by the knowledge that in just a few hours he'd be back in her company, free to stare into those revealing blue eyes, to touch her smooth skin, to smell her enchanting scent.

  It was hard to understand exactly why Janna affected him like she did. He'd never felt this way about a woman before, not even Evetta, who'd taken him to hell and back. Not even when he'd been anticipating their child. It was shocking to admit it, but Janna had dug her way in deeper than any woman before, so deep that Brice didn't know how to proceed.

  He only knew that he wanted to spend more time with her, that he wanted to drag her away to some deserted hideaway, to cloister themselves together for an eon or two, and spend that time talking, laughing, and making love. An eon or two to explore Janna's mind. Her body. Her soul. And to share his with her. This was the only thing that seemed important.

  Brice felt a faint vibration coming from his pocket and pulled out his phone. He checked the number, then excused himself to take the call.
All thoughts of seductive seclusion fled his mind as he answered his phone.

  "Tony, what'd you find out?"

  "We can confirm that the threat comes from your cousin. He seems serious."

  Brice exhaled heavily. His cousin had painted him with the villain's brush for the takedown of Chester's father, and Brice was also blamed for the downfall of their reputation. He'd recently found out that Uncle Wesley was in debt to some very shady characters, and his once prominent fortune had nearly evaporated.

  Brice hadn't expected such an intense reaction out of his cousin, however. Chester was an affable drunk, one who talked too much and often embarrassed himself in polite company, but he'd always been relatively harmless. His recent behavior was quite unexpected.

  Last night during the fundraising dinner Tony had called to inform Brice that someone had thrown a brick through the window of their offices, triggering the alarm. When security arrived, they'd found that the brick was wrapped in a note.

  The note said only one word, written in dark, block letters: "Revenge."

  But the more frightening thing, the thing that had prompted Brice to call in an independent expert, was the picture attached to the note.

  Pulled out of the local paper, the photo showed Brice and Janna, holding shovels and accompanied by Mrs. Waltz from the Afterschool Program.

  He instructed Tony to have an analysis performed on the note before he made any decisions. If Chester were elevating his threat level, then new measures would have to be taken, ones that perhaps even included bringing in the authorities. He hated to do so, because Chester was still family, and was clearly experiencing some hardcore mental anguish. But Brice couldn't ignore the threat, especially if, as his heart tried to deny, it in any way affected Janna's safety.

  "The consultant confirms that the DNA on the note belongs to your cousin Chester." Tony paused for a few beats, and when Brice didn't respond, he continued. "It makes sense. You don't have any other enemies currently, at least none that would resort to physical threats against you. And your cousin's behavior has been growing more and more...unpredictable."

  "He's gone off the deep end, you mean." Brice's laugh was harsh, tinged with regret. "I should have done something about this sooner. I just didn't expect this from him. But if he's going to threaten me...if he's going to threaten the people I care about, then something has to be done. Was the security team able to locate my cousin?"

  "Not yet. He was evicted from his apartment in the city, and he hasn't been spotted at his father's home, which is now in foreclosure. None of the family members we contacted has heard from him either. They're still looking, though."

  "Make finding him a priority. And arrange for heightened security around all the properties and at the mansion." Brice took a deep breath, wondering if he was going to regret the next order, but unable to withhold it, not if it meant putting Janna in danger. "And hire a full security detail for Ms. Puchina. I want them tailing her 24/7 beginning tomorrow when she returns to her residence."

  "I'm sure Janna's gonna love that," Tony mumbled under his breath before he realized that Brice could hear him. "Uh, I'm sure Ms. Puchina will appreciate you looking after her safety."

  Brice chuckled. "Riiight. Tony, make sure the security team watches over her, but for now, let's have them stay out of sight. No reason to upset Janna. I'm sure we'll find my cousin soon, so let's inconvenience her as little as possible."

  Tony blew out his breath. "Whatever you say." His tone said he disapproved, and Brice knew Janna wouldn't appreciate his heavy-handed tactics, especially withholding information. But their relationship was at such a delicate stage. One false move and she'd bolt.

  He knew she didn't think he was sincere in saying he wanted a real relationship with her. And he'd seen her reaction when he'd suggested, very reasonably, that she avoid Alex Drake. He couldn't imagine the fireworks when he told her she'd be escorted every hour of every day by a fully-armed security detail. She'd turn tail and run so fast; he'd get whiplash. Better to keep things quiet for now.

  Brice ended the call and made his way back into the conference room, his thoughts in turmoil. He glanced at the time, then counted the hours until he'd see Janna again. Seeing her again, being with her again, seemed more imperative now than ever. The thought of something happening to tear them apart, or worse, of some harm befalling her, made his veins fill with ice water. He wouldn't be able to relax until he made sure she was safe, that she was content. That she was his.

  * * *

  In a nearby upscale restaurant, Alex ordered a complicated meal and then proceeded to show her which utensils belonged with which item. Janna had always been a quick study at anything she set her mind to, so before long she'd learned the necessary table etiquette she had been missing.

  "It's really not that difficult, just another hoop to be jumped through." Alex saluted her progress with a glass of intricately flavored red wine.

  "And why was it so important for you to jump through all these hoops?" Janna asked, hoping his openness would continue. "If your success is on the same level as Brice's, surely you have enough money that you'd be able to tell the high society hounds to go fuck themselves."

  Alex almost spits out the sip of wine he was taking and barely swallowed before he burst out laughing. "Goddamn, Brice sure has his hands full with you." After he recovered his breath, he replied in earnest. "Sure, I could tell them to 'go fuck themselves,' but I'd have to be willing to sacrifice the advantages that come with being able to mingle in their midst. And not just business advantages."

  Janna sensed he wasn't being entirely forthcoming. "I have to learn to navigate Brice's world if I want to become a part of his life, but you came from outside that world. Why is it so important to you to be accepted in it?"

  Alex's brow furrowed, and a dark look came into his eyes briefly, before he could hide it behind carefully schooled features. "I told you about my upbringing. I realized early on that if I wanted to avoid living my life in a house more appropriately called a shack, drinking myself to death on moonshine and never working a steady job, I'd need money. But in college, I realized, with the help of men like Brice Masterson, that having money wasn't enough. I had to know the right people, cultivate influence, cut the right figure if I wanted to claim a level of success that matched the money that started rapidly accumulating in my bank accounts."

  "They didn't accept you." Janna noticed the haunted look in his eyes. It was too similar to the look in hers after Donna Goddard had torn away her confidence at the fundraising dinner. Perhaps this went toward explaining the bad blood between Brice and Drake.

  "No, they didn't, not initially. And I'm sad to say that I resorted to some pretty nasty tricks to gain respect. But after college, I recognized that, although I didn't fit in with the trust fund frat boys, I couldn't go home either and expect to resume a quiet life in Tennessee. I had too much money, and that kind of money needs management to hold it together, keep it growing. That meant mingling with others who possessed wealth and knew how to maintain it. And for that, I needed the same kind of seemingly-effortless polish that the guys from Old Money University had. So I made sure I acquired it."

  Janna realized that talking about these things couldn't be easy for him. She smiled and reached across the table to grab his hand. "Thank you for being so open, and for helping me fit in. You're a good friend."

  "Good friend?" he asked with a smile. "I'd love to be your friend, Janna."

  Although his expression was genuine and gracious, for a moment Janna sensed an underlying unharmonious note to his tone. She pushed it out of her mind, sure that Alex meant the words he said and chalked it up to her own hang-ups.

  After finishing their lunch and returning to the confines of Drake's limo, Janna watched the buildings and people go by beyond the tinted windows. She soon realized they weren't headed back to the hotel, but in the opposite direction.

  After glancing at her watch and finding it was nearly three in the afternoon, Janna a
sked Alex where they were going. "Don't worry," he assured her. "One more lesson, then I'll return you to the hotel." Before long they pulled up in front of a large Queen Anne style mansion, settled atop a hill with views of the surrounding city.

  "This is amazing," Janna breathed as Alex led her toward the massive double doors. "Is it yours?"

  "It is," he said with his devilish smile, opening the doors. The furnishings were opulent and most even seemed historically appropriate.

  "More camouflage?" she asked as he led her through a sitting room and into what appeared to be an office. It was outfitted in black walnut and dominated by a stone fireplace, in front of which sat a pair of armchairs. Across the room was a massive desk, and along the walls stood several bookshelves crammed with enough books to fill a modest public library.

  "No, not really," Drake answered as he settled into the chair behind his desk and motioned for Janna to pull up a seat beside him. "I've always loved this style of architecture, so when I happened to drive past this beauty one day, I made sure to locate the owners convinced them to sell." Alex pulled out a laptop and opened it before turning to Janna and pulling her gaze to his stormy gray eyes.

  "One day isn't nearly enough to tell you everything you'd need to know about Brice's world, but at least I can give you a crash course. You're a quick study in table manners, and you already possess an eye for style even if you don't have the wallet to back it up. But the most important skill to arm yourself with when crossing into enemy territory is information gathering. You need good intel for this kind of mission. So I figured I'd try and give you some."

  "Intel?" Janna asked, confused. "What do you mean exactly?"

  Alex smiled, slipping an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer to his computer screen. "You gotta know who you're up against, and all their secrets. The dirtier, the better."