The Billionaires--A Lover's Triangle Novel

by Calista Fox

  An incredibly dismal thought that sat heavy in Jewel’s heart to this day. Yet another one she had to rise above for the sake of her business this evening.

  Gian gestured for her to precede him into his enormous study, with sturdy bronze-colored leather furniture scattered about, its heady scent permeating the room along with the aroma of expensive tobacco.

  He took to his chair behind his massive mahogany desk, clasped his fingers on top of the old-fashioned blotter, and wore a formidable expression that nearly made her knees knock together.

  She drew in a deep breath. This was unlike any negotiation Jewel had ever entered. First, her father had no idea what she was up to—and wouldn’t be pleased about being kept in the dark, or over the fact that she was here at the home of his sworn enemy. Second, the man currently brooding over her audacious move truly did intimidate the hell out of her.

  Jewel held fast to a bit of false bravado and said, “I’d like to speak with you about the land our families jointly own, and something I believe I can give you that might encourage you to sell to us.”

  Gian let out a low chuckle that basically indicated she was a foolish girl.

  Naturally, that sparked her ire.

  She told him, “I happen to have the correct bargaining chip.” She whipped her iPhone from her purse and set it on the desk in front of him, the photo of a gorgeous crystal decanter on the screen, courtesy of Bayli’s research efforts and Scarlet’s connections with auction houses and global black markets.

  Jewel said, “That’s the very last of the Angelini scotch produced by your ancestors’ first distillery before it burned to the ground.” Back in the early 1800s.

  The premium whisky was currently preserved in a one-of-a-kind blown-glass decanter crafted by a renowned Italian artist from Murano. Only three bottles of the scotch had been made—all from spirits dating back to the time of the French and American revolutions.

  The other two bottles were long gone, as Gian knew. She’d heard him speak of the coveted scotch at a dinner party many moons ago. Back when Taylor was still alive, the two families had held numerous lucrative business partnerships with each other and everyone had gotten along.

  Continuing, Jewel said, “The scotch was sold at auction by Sotheby’s for just over a million dollars to an undisclosed bidder. He wasn’t you.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Jewel.” Gian’s jaw tightened the way Rogen’s always did when he was restless or contemplative.

  She pulled in another steadying breath at Gian’s instant aggravation. She was poking the cagey lion with a stick, out of sheer necessity.

  “It was suggested an error on the auction house’s part kept you from winning that decanter,” she said. “Though any wrongdoing couldn’t be proven. And your subsequent lawsuit did not make you the victor. However, that scotch does belong to your family, Mr. Angelini—it’s part of your heritage. And I can get it for you.”

  He glared at her as though she’d grown a third eye and just declared she could achieve world dominance with the snap of her fingers.

  Jewel fought the outrageous thundering of her heart. She curled her fingers into her palms so that Gian Angelini wouldn’t see them tremble.

  It took him some time to respond. When his answer eventually came, it was simple and finite. “Impossible.”

  Jewel was not deterred. Here was where she excelled in the Acquisitions division of Catalano Enterprises.

  “You say that because you’ve already tried to buy the decanter. But, Mr. Angelini…” She slipped into a chair before his desk and speared him with an earnest, insistent look. “You know as well as I do that anyone who has a mil in spare change to purchase scotch they won’t drink, because it’s meant to be put on display like a trophy, isn’t interested in how much it’s worth monetarily. There is no true cash value that can be placed on something so rare. The eccentric person who bid on and won that scotch would only part with it if enticed by a new possession that would yield even more significant bragging rights.”

  His gray eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting, Jewel?”

  She had his attention—had clearly piqued his interest. She intended to keep it.

  “I’ve done a hell of a lot of digging,” she told him. “With a hell of a lot of help. I know the identity of the winner of that auction item and I know there’s something out there that he wants even more than the scotch. But, like you, he can’t get his hands on it. Unless he has something substantial to barter with.”

  Gian gazed at her for several suspended seconds. Then he unclasped his hands and sat back in his big leather chair. “I’m listening.”

  Jewel didn’t waste a second. Jumped right in. “It turns out that this gentleman is an art aficionado but can’t procure two rare paintings that would complete one of his priceless collections. My team has tracked down the owner of those paintings, and I know what he desires—something currently out of his reach as well. I can make the deals, connect the dots, and put that decanter of scotch in your trophy case. I’ve done it before, with much less motivation.”

  Their gazes remained locked. He didn’t say a word.

  “I can do it again.”

  Gian took endless minutes to consider her proposal. They’d gone well over the time he’d allotted her, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. His mind apparently churned over the possibility she’d presented him.

  Jewel sat perfectly still, riveted, her heart pounding. Fast. Ridiculously fast.

  Still not speaking, but schooling his features so that he didn’t give away a goddamn thing, Gian pushed back his chair and paced behind his desk.

  Jewel watched him. Her heartbeats wouldn’t slow and her fingers coiled into the arms of the chair.

  The fact that this man deliberated over her daring proposal encouraged Jewel. Conversely, she wondered if he was trying to figure out some way to break it to her that she was all kinds of crazy for coming to him and that he also intended to spill the beans to her father.

  But then Gian drew up short, gripped the back of his chair, and pinned her with an intent look.

  He took her seriously!

  Yet no sigh of relief escaped her. Because he hadn’t delivered his verdict.

  She fought the urge to gnaw her lower lip—a nervous habit.

  A couple more minutes passed.

  Finally—finally—Gian Angelini told her, “I’m intrigued. What is your full offer?”

  She hastily retrieved a small, sealed envelope from her clutch and placed it on the leather blotter on his desk. “I think you’ll find that very appealing, in addition to the scotch.”

  He snatched the packet and slid a silver letter opener under the flap. Extracting the card, he studied it while Jewel’s pulse raged in her ears, because she wanted this deal to go through so badly.

  Gian made her suffer further as he seemed to run numbers through his mind, debate this or that.

  Pure torture.

  He’s torturing me.

  And for what? What the hell had she ever done to him that he’d be this cruel to her? That he’d drag out a decision so that she was just about to—

  “You get me the scotch, young lady,” he suddenly said, “and I’ll get you the three signatures required on the bill of sale for the land. Mine, my wife’s … and Rogen’s.”

  Jewel’s heart nearly burst from her chest.

  She’d done it!

  Leaping to her feet, she managed to ask, “I have your word?”

  “Yes, Jewel.” He extended his hand to her, across the desk. “You have my word.”

  They shook. Excitement coursed through her, wild and effervescent.

  Granted, it wasn’t a done deal until she’d fulfilled her end of the bargain, but it was absolutely the “in” she needed. And, sure, her father would have heart palpitations over how much money it would cost, in the end, to acquire that land.

  But it would be theirs. Which was what he’d wanted for nearly two decades.

  “Thank you, Mr. Angeli
ni,” she said in the most professional tone she could muster, given that her body practically vibrated from exhilaration. “I promise, you won’t be disappointed. Give me two weeks, tops. And I’ll be back.”

  There was a shrewd look on his face—as though a part of him doubted she could accomplish her side of the transaction. Yet admiration rimmed his eyes. She’d earned his respect.

  Jewel collected her iPhone and left the office, floating on a cloud.

  She’d taken a huge risk by coming here—and it had miraculously paid off. This was her biggest coup d’état to date. Nothing could bring her down even a single notch. Nothing could taint her euphoria in the tiniest way.

  Not tonight.

  “Well, well, well,” came the all-too-familiar, deliciously rich and intimate voice of Vin D’Angelo. Stopping her dead in her tracks.

  Vin was the exception. The only thing that could burst her bubble.

  “So, the prodigal daughter returns to River Cross. And goddamn, aren’t you a sight to behold, Jewel Catalano?”

  Her head whipped around. Her heart launched into her throat so that she couldn’t speak. Whereas seeing Rogen after all this time had left Jewel emotionally charged and drowning in desire, seeing the devilishly handsome Vin ignited an inferno, not solely related to lust. Though that did play a major part.

  Like Rogen, he was a mesmeric force with which to be reckoned.

  And one look at him catapulted Jewel into a past where love and hate walked hand in hand.

  * * *

  Vin stood midway down one of the grand staircases, hands shoved into the slant pockets of his tailored tux.

  Jewel glared up at him.

  With fire and fury in her eyes.

  A powerful combination. An erotic one that complemented her drop-dead gorgeous appearance. He unabashedly absorbed every inch of luscious female, decked to the nines in a stunning gown that did everything to show off her sensational body—and make him insanely hard. In an instant.

  Not necessarily a good thing.

  Lust mixed with the bittersweet taste of wanting something he knew he could never have. The only woman he’d ever burned to possess. The one who belonged, heart and soul, to his best friend.

  Her body, on the other hand …

  Well, he actually had possessed that for a time. Too fleeting a span of time, but long and scorchingly hot enough for it to be ingrained in his brain. Entrenched within him.

  And seeing her now … It did things to him. Made him think of all the ways he’d once pleasured her.

  But … uh-huh.

  He mentally shook his head.

  No need to have those thoughts.

  She was the one female considered off-limits when it came to his and Rogen’s penchant for satisfying a woman at the same time. They’d never even discussed it; neither had dared to suggest it. Sharing Jewel was an unspoken no-no. A completely forbidden notion.

  Even if it would be the ultimate threesome for the two men.

  But aside from the inherent complications related to entangled feelings and relationships, Rogen didn’t really know what had gone on between Vin and Jewel after he’d left for Trinity. No one knew, that Vin was aware of. Perhaps Bayli and Scarlet. As far as everyone in River Cross was concerned, she’d been Rogen’s. Only Rogen’s.

  All of this sparked Vin’s own fury.

  But he tamped down the edgy sensation and, instead, shot for nonchalance. He wouldn’t let Jewel see how deeply, how quickly, she had affected him after all this time. He had to play this cool.

  So he gave her a slow grin and continued to admire the view. She looked a bit dazed at the sight of him, a bit off-kilter as those plump, glossy lips of hers parted and she inhaled sharply.

  Glad to know he wasn’t the only one suffering the side effects of an unexpected reunion.

  Forcing a neutral tone so desire and long-buried emotions didn’t betray him, he said, “Look who’s all grown-up.”

  And absolutely breathtaking.

  Jewel crossed the marbled entryway to the first step. She started a gradual, sexy ascent toward him, her hips swaying provocatively, the flash of bare legs driving him wild.

  Vin added, “Very nice, Jewel.” His gaze fixated on her ample chest, rising and falling with her agitation, or excitement. Maybe both? The fact that she evoked his excitement and need so vehemently made him just frustrated enough to goad, “You’ve finally filled out in all the right places.”

  She’d been a bit on the skinny side as a teen, though still striking enough to star in all of his fantasies. Now she was—

  Fuck.

  She was more riveting than anything he’d ever known. And the constant, fiery yearning for her that had roared through his veins for longer than he could remember was just as bright and searing tonight. More so, he couldn’t deny. Because they weren’t eighteen-year-olds exploring mutual attraction and trying to sate raging hormones.

  This was something altogether different. The heat flaring in Jewel’s eyes as she feasted on him while cresting the last step told Vin the magnetism was just as strong on her end. Whether she wanted it to be or not.

  Truly the bane of her existence as much as his.

  Knowing how to keep the upper hand, his grin turned cocky. He said, “My fantasy woman come to life. Aren’t I suddenly the lucky bastard?”

  Jewel was the epitome of the one who got away. His fault as much as it was hers, which had left them at an impasse years ago. Something that ate at him like a piranha trying to consume his very soul.

  Her gaze flitted from him to the second-floor mezzanine and then back.

  Vin fought a scowl. He suspected Holly stood there, likely using a compact from her handbag to apply a fresh coat of lipstick after giving him a stellar blow job on the private terrace adjacent to his office.

  A hint of betrayal crept in on him. Not because he and Holly actually had “started the party” without Rogen—she’d been quite the eager beaver.

  No, this particular tension was wrapped wholly around Jewel. But Vin reminded himself that he had nothing to feel guilty about when it came to being with another woman. Holly, in this case. He and Jewel weren’t a couple. Hadn’t been for some time.

  Yet the slight watering of her eyes as her gaze held his—and several strides separated them—made his gut twist.

  “Jewel—” His teeth ground. What the fuck was he supposed to say to her?

  They’d always been the equivalent of two ships passing in the night. Potentially destined for something great, but always hindered by circumstance. Her endless love for Rogen. Her decision to live in San Francisco rather than River Cross. Her anger toward Vin, which she obviously had not let go of.

  She didn’t give him the chance to discern how he was supposed to mend the fence—if that was even possible. She stepped closer, raised her hand, and slapped him soundly across the face.

  No lie, it stung like hell.

  But as Vin hastily recovered, he realized if she’d hurt him, she’d hurt herself tenfold.

  “Jesus,” he whispered, and reached for her hand.

  Tears flooded her eyes.

  “Jewel. Shit,” he hissed out.

  He held her hand gently in both of his, her palm engulfed by his larger ones as she visibly reeled. Tried to pull in a full breath. Trembled from head to toe.

  “That was stupid,” he scolded in a low tone so that only she heard.

  “Asshole,” came her quiet retort.

  His jaw tightened a moment. Then Vin said, “Yes. But always for a reason.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and tenderly kissed her reddened flesh.

  It looked as though she still couldn’t catch her breath. She stared at him, clearly taken by surprise. And … touched … if the softening of her expression was any indication.

  One corner of his mouth jerked up. “I always did like your feisty spirit.”

  She was at a loss for words as their gazes held. Then she came around. A bit too jarringly.

  “Don’t suddenly pl
ay nice, Vin.” She yanked her hand from his. “I’ve wasted more time trying to figure out your game than I care to admit. It’s just not worth it.”

  She whirled around and stalked off, making her way so quickly down the stairs that Vin’s body went on high alert in preparation for having to rescue her from a horrific Scarlett O’Hara fall. But she made it safely to the foyer and continued on her way, out of his sight.

  Under his breath, Vin murmured, “There never was a game.”

  His head dropped and he shook it slowly.

  She hated him.

  He knew why.

  But again … he wasn’t the only one to blame.

  From behind him, Vin heard Holly approach. His head snapped up—and he snapped out of his sudden funk, not interested in anyone discovering he’d never gotten over his first and only love.

  Holly said in her whisky voice, “What a spectacle the two of you make. Enough fireworks and drama to excite innocent bystanders.”

  “There’s nothing innocent about you,” he reminded her.

  “So true,” she drawled, a southern belle from Savannah. “I am just dying to know who that was.”

  “Jewel Catalano.”

  “Ah. The wine heiress Rogen has reportedly pined over.” She sighed wistfully. “Forever and a day.”

  Vin’s body turned even more rigid. There was nothing convenient about best friends falling in love with the same woman. Even if their desire for Jewel had never impacted their friendship—because it had never fully been laid on the table—Rogen had to have known that Vin’s interest in Jewel had gone well beyond childhood pals. There’d always been an underlying current of sexual and emotional tension amongst the trio. Something none of them had ever discussed. It was just easier that way. Safer. Saner.

  “She’s definitely peeved,” Holly continued. “What’d you do to get on her shit list?”

  Breathe?

  He fought a growl. Then confessed, “I stood her up on prom night.”

  Holly let out a hearty laugh. “Good Lord, Vin. Why would you do such a thing? That’s sacrilege in the mind of a teenage girl.”