MyAlphaBillionaire New Adult Erotic RomanceARe

by Tawny Taylor

  Maybe he wasn’t hiding anything. Maybe we were done. Over. Finished. My insides tightened. It hurt.

  “Sir,” I said, offering a smile.

  He didn’t return it. Instead he gave one to my escort, saying, “I trust our new employee is in excellent hands. Excuse me.” After Holly sputtered a thank you, off he went.

  My new coworker gave a little sigh. “Don’t laugh, but when I started working here, I had dreams about that man,” she whispered.

  “He is handsome.” I stole a quick glance over my shoulder. He was gone, out of sight. Somewhere.

  “He’s utter perfection.”

  “Nobody is perfect.”

  “Shane Trant is.” She motioned to the right and started walking. “Our department is this way.”

  I nodded as I followed her lead.

  “Call me crazy,” she whispered, “I know he’s a lot older than me. But if I could, I’d sleep with that man. There’s something about him, a strength, an aura of power. I’d love to see how he lives when he’s out of this place.”

  My heart jerked. How many other girls in this place felt the same way? How many had actually gotten what they wanted? “Sometimes the people you think have it best are actually living a nightmare. You just never know.”

  “I suppose you’re right. And I know that sometimes a fantasy is better kept to the imagination. Reality doesn’t measure up. But still…” she sighed again. “It’s not like it’s ever going to happen anyway. I heard he’s married. To some woman in Europe somewhere.”

  Now that was one rumor I hadn’t heard. Married? His wife was dead, and supposedly he had something to do with that, if Jill was to be believed. It had to be an old, false rumor. Jill would have told me if he had a living wife somewhere. “Where did you hear that?” I asked, pretending to be indifferent.

  “Oh, I don’t remember.”

  Ah, then it had to be false. I decided to clear things up for my new coworker. “I heard he was married, but his wife died.”

  Holly waved off my statement. “Oh. Sure. Everyone knows about his first wife. No, he married Wife Number Two right after her death. And as far as I know, he’s still married to her.”

  Wife Number Two?

  Oh, God.

  Wife. Number. Two?

  Shane? Married?

  Oh. My. God.

  If that rumor was true—which was still a big if—then I might have dodged a bigger bullet than I had realized. If things had continued…if I had married him someday, I might have become the wife of a…polygamist

  If he was really married.

  If we married.

  If, if, if.

  My stomach did a somersault.

  That was it. I needed to find out if there was a current wife. That would put an end to all of it--the guilt for letting him down, the grieving for what might have been.

  At last I would then be able to put Shane, and his complicated life, and our complicated relationship, behind me and move on.

  Chapter 6

  “What the fuck? Ohmygod. I knew it! I knew that jerk was no good.”

  I wished I’d been able to avoid telling Jill this latest rumor. I didn’t want to hear the I-told-you-sos. But she had connections. She was the only one I knew who did. She would be able to get to the bottom of things. Plus I trusted her to tell me, one way or the other, whether he was married or not. She had her reasons for refusing to tell me what she’d found out about his first wife’s death, but she wouldn’t keep this from me.

  Jill and I were at Jill’s favorite restaurant. She liked it because every waiter in the place was hot. I liked it because they served a killer vegi lasagna. At the moment we were waiting for our hottie waiter, Paolo, to bring our drinks and salads.

  “It’s a rumor,” I reminded her as I unfolded my napkin and smoothed it over my lap. “The girl who told me couldn’t even remember where she’d heard it.”

  “That’s okay. We have people. We can get to the bottom of it.”

  “Supposedly he was married in Europe somewhere.”

  “No problem.” Jill dug her phone out of her purse and started poking at it. “I know exactly who I’m going to use on this case.”

  “Jill, please don’t spend a lot of money—“

  Jill waved away my plea. “Don’t worry about that. First, I won’t have to spend a lot to get information. We have computers and people who know how to use them. Really well. And second, finding out the truth would be worth any price, no matter the cost.” Finished with whatever she was doing, she dropped her phone back in her purse.

  Paolo hurried over, doled out our drinks and salads then ran off again. The restaurant was packed, every table full. We wouldn’t be seeing him again for a while.

  Jill looked sad to see him scampering away so quickly. After heaving a slightly exaggerated sigh, she said, “I’m guessing this latest bit is making it a little easier dealing with the breakup.”

  The unofficial taking-a-temporary-breather semi-breakup.

  We hadn’t officially broken up. I hadn’t heard from Shane since that night in my condo. He hadn’t called. Didn’t speak to me at work. Nothing. So, officially we were…in limbo. But it was easier, less painful, to let Jill believe we’d broken up. “A little easier, I guess.”

  She sipped her Bellini, served in a champagne flute. “Mmm, is that good.” She licked her lips. “Do you want to go out again this weekend? Maybe hit a club or two like old times?”

  Clubbing. Again? Ugh. “I don’t know if I’m ready for anything like that yet,” I said as I stirred my alcohol-free strawberry iced tea. Tonight I needed to stay sober. If I drank, I would lose my resolve. I might actually tell Jill what had happened between Shane and me. That would be bad. “It hasn’t been that long since we’d been to a club, and the last time…I don’t need to remind you of how awful that was.”

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “Yes.”

  Jill scowled. “Sorry. I was trying to be helpful. Russell is cute. And a doctor. A successful doctor.”

  “I know you were trying to help. Which is why we’re still friends. But in the future, please stick with what you do best—lawyering. And leave the matchmaking to Patti Stanger.”

  Jill laughed as she stabbed at her salad, doused in ranch dressing. “Okay. No more matchmaking for me. Until you’re ready—“

  “No matchmaking,” I interrupted. “At all. Period. None.”

  She scrunched up her face. “Was I really so bad at it?”

  “Do I need to answer that question?”

  “Wow. You’re brutal.”

  “Just being honest. I wouldn’t suggest a career change.”

  “No worries. I wasn’t planning one. At least not until we find out what’s up with your ex-boyfriend. I really, really want to know the truth.” Jill lifted her glass. “How about a toast? To learning the truth?”

  “To learning the truth,” I echoed, tapping my glass against hers.

  * * * * *

  After dinner, Jill did her best to try to convince me to go out for drinks. She was meeting up with some of her people from work, one of them the guy she was going to have dig up the dirt on Shane. I declined. Not only didn’t I want to be sitting around with a bunch of lawyers, listening to them talk shop, but I didn’t want to be there when she told her assistant about Shane. I knew she’d be using some choice words in describing him. As much as I suspected he probably deserved to be described in that manner (especially if he was married), I couldn’t really stomach hearing it. Not yet.

  I went home.

  I clicked on the TV. Surfed through all three channels I was able to get without cable. Then I decided to poke around on my cell phone a little bit. I had unlimited internet on my cell phone. It was agonizingly slow--like, watching a slug run a marathon slow. But it was better than nothing. I opened a blank web page, put the curser in the little box and typed Shane’s name.

  Instantly, my screen was full of links to articles about Shane. One dated last Friday cau
ght my eye. He was dressed in a suit and tie, standing next to none other than Alexis.

  The article’s headline: Has America’s favorite billionaire bachelor found his match at last?

  Oh God. Here we go again. Will it ever end?

  It’s just speculation. More silly rumors. That was Friday night. The same day the article was published, he was standing in my condo, yelling at me about talking to another man.

  Rumor. Speculation. That was all it was.

  My finger hovered over the screen.

  I wanted to click the link.

  No, I didn’t.

  Yes, yes I did.

  No.

  I shut the browser.

  No.

  To keep from opening the window again, I powered down my phone, plugged it into the charger, and went to the kitchen for a bedtime snack.

  The writing was on the wall. Whether he was still legally married to some woman somewhere in Europe, about to be married to that bitch here in the US, or still the non-communicative jerk who made me look like a fool for just talking to another man, we were through. Over. Done. The sooner I accepted that fact, the better.

  He hadn’t called me in a week. He hadn’t apologized. He’d just dumped me like yesterday’s trash.

  I deserved better than that.

  I went to bed, still trying to convince myself I could live without him.

  * * * * *

  The night was pure hell.

  I didn’t sleep. I dozed off a couple of times, but the instant I started falling into a deeper sleep, I jerked awake.

  I swear, I was sick. It had to be the flu. I was sweating. I was shaking. Hot. Cold. Hot again. I couldn’t get comfortable, and I couldn’t stay comfortable. When my alarm clock started squealing at six-thirty, I groaned, dragged my heavy, aching, shivering body out of bed, stripped, and stumbled into the bathroom. A long, almost scalding hot shower left my skin tingling. I smelled clean. But I still felt like crap. I briefly considered calling in sick but quickly decided that was a bad idea. I had just started my new job. A job I liked, so far. I didn’t want to risk losing it.

  Thus, I pulled on my most comfortable work clothes, made myself a big cup of coffee and hurried out to my car. I cranked on the engine, shifted into reverse and hit the gas.

  The car lurched backward about three inches then died.

  A wave of horror washed through me.

  “Please, start,” I chanted as I twisted the key. The engine cranked and chugged then shuddered and died. A third attempt got the same results.

  I was screwed.

  I dug my phone out of my purse and prayed Jill was still at home. She answered on the third ring.

  “Hey!” Jill’s bouncy voice was too energetic for so early. “What’s up? You never call me in the morning.”

  “My car’s dead.” My voice, in contrast, was anything but bouncy. I tried the car again. No deal.

  “Dead?” Jill echoed.

  “Dead.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “At home. In my driveway, trying to resist the urge to blow up my car.” I sighed. Hard. Could this day suck any more? “This is only my second week. I need to get to work. And I’m sick, to top it all off. Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way into a meeting with a client.”

  “Damn.” I yanked the keys out and kicked open the door. “I guess I’ll call into work. Not the best way to start a new job.”

  “Give me a minute. Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you back in five.”

  “O-okay.” I kicked the car door shut.

  “Bye.”

  Standing outside glaring at my car, I dialed my auto club’s service number to schedule a tow truck. I listened to the automated greeting. Then I listened to some really tacky music and a sales pitch. Before I had a live customer service rep on the phone, my line rang. I checked the number. Jill. I took a chance and clicked over to see if Jill had been able to do something for me.

  “I have a runner on his way,” Jill announced.

  My problems were solved. For the time being. “Are you kidding? Thank you. I owe you--”

  “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be there in about fifteen.”

  “You are a lifesaver.”

  “Just remember this the next time I do something to piss you off,” Jill said cheerfully.

  “I’ll remember, no matter what.”

  “Good. I’ll swing by and pick you up after work tonight and take you home. Love ya! Gotta go.”

  “Love ya, too! Bye.”

  I clicked over to the other line. I must have missed the service rep when I was talking to Jill. The call had been cut off. Oh well. I would have to deal with the car later. I leaned against my dead car and checked the time. The runner would be here in fifteen minutes. It would be close, but I just might make it into work on time.

  The runner, a young guy who didn’t like driving the legal speed limit, was zipping up in front of my condo five minutes earlier than I expected. I didn’t have my seatbelt fastened and he was already zooming away.

  “Where are we headed?” he asked as he steered out into heavy morning rush hour traffic.

  I gave him the directions and he stomped on the gas, shot past a couple of slow-moving cars, cut back into the right lane and somehow managed to get his little car onto the freeway without killing us.

  It was the scariest ride of my life. But I made it to work and I renewed my faith in God, thanks to all the praying I did along the way. I thanked my reckless driver, shoved a twenty into his hand, and scurried inside, hitting the elevator button with five minutes to spare.

  The chime rang, the doors opened, and…once again, I was face-to-face with my boss. He didn’t get out, like I was expecting. I stepped inside the car and stood stiff, staring straight ahead as the doors rolled shut.

  “I hope you’re liking your new position,” he said. His voice was low and sexy, and it still did things to my insides that I didn’t want to happen.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Good.”

  My gaze lifted. The number two was illuminated.

  I felt him moving closer and shifted my weight forward to try to put more space between us.

  “I miss you,” he said very softly.

  “Please don’t.”

  “Okay.”

  The rest of the ride he didn’t speak at all. It was awkward standing there, in such a close space, and not speaking to him. But I knew this wasn’t the time or place to talk about personal stuff.

  As the number six lit, he leaned toward me and whispered, “I love you, Bristol.”

  I practically staggered out of the elevator. I didn’t look back as I hurried down the hall. But Shane’s words echoed in my ear, over and over again. They distracted me as I tried to learn the new computer system. They plagued me as I sat in the café downstairs with Holly and tried to pretend I was interested in hearing about her plans for a trip to Vegas with her boyfriend. They haunted me as I packed up and prepared to leave for the night.

  I vowed not to tell Jill what he said when her little sports car zoomed up in front of the building at five-twenty that night.

  She waved me in. As I was making myself comfy, she said, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind if I just drop you off at home. I have a meeting with a client.”

  “Sure. That’s fine. Thanks for helping me out.” I clicked my seatbelt.

  She hit the gas, and we zoomed away. “Did you find out what’s wrong with your car yet?”

  “No. I didn’t have a chance to get it towed.”

  “Okay. I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks. When I get home, I’ll call the auto club and get the car towed to a shop. Hopefully it’ll be fixed tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Ten minutes later, we were almost halfway to my place. Traffic was really bad, worse than usual. “You’re quiet. Are you okay?”

  “I’m all right. It’s just a lot to deal with all at once. New jo
b. I caught some kind of bug, the flu, maybe. And now the car.”

  “Aw hon. Things will turn around. I promise. It has to be extra hard at the new job if you’re seeing Shane a lot.” Jill looked over her shoulder then steered her car into a tiny opening between two SUV’s going a little faster in the left lane. Of course, once we got in the lane, everyone in front of us stomped on their brakes.

  I sighed. Loud. And long. “I don’t see him a lot. But I have seen every day since I started.”

  “Is he being a dick?”

  “No. Not at all. I talked to him today for just a few minutes. We were in the elevator.”

  Jill’s eyes bugged. “Oh, that had to be hell.”

  “It was.”

  “What did he say?” Up ahead, the light turned red, and she hit the brakes. Once she had the car stopped, she flicked me a tell-me look.

  I couldn’t tell her everything. She would go on a rampage, saying what a jerk he was, and warning me not to let him make me change my mind. “He asked me if I like my new job.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She was too freaking perceptive. “What else?”

  “Not much,” I lied. “I tried not to speak to him.”

  Her squinty eyes became squintier. “There’s more. There has to be. What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Dammit. She was like a hound on the trail of a rabbit. There was no way I could get out of this. “He told me he loves me,” I mumbled.

  “Oh God. You aren’t thinking about going back—“

  “No.” I pointed at the light, which was now green. “Jill. The light.”

  She hit the gas and her zoomy little car accelerated. “Maybe it isn’t such a good idea for you to work for his company.”

  “It’s the only job I’ve been able to find.”

  “I get that. You need a job. But you need to stay away from him. It’s like you’re addicted to him.”

  My heart started pounding. She was wrong. I wasn’t a pathetic pining little sap. I had developed real feelings for Shane. Deep ones. She needed to respect that. “I’m not addicted, Jill. I love Shane. Like I’ve never loved a guy before. I hurt inside. All the time, especially when I see him.”