The Billionaire Bad Boy Club: A Bad Boy BDSM Holiday Romance

by Michelle Love

  Chapter 8

  JUDE

  After a day of recuperation, I’m ready to get back on track and get this thing with Mercy going. She only talked to me twice yesterday because she said she was busy with sleeping and trying to get well. But she never sounded sleepy.

  I’m taking Zeek’s car to the spa this morning so mine can be cleaned up. It reeks of puke and I can’t take that. His windows are tinted to the maximum darkness they can legally be so I look out my window at the car that’s pulling up next to me at the stop light.

  It’s a black Suburban and I do a double take as I swear its Mercy driving. She’s talking to somebody and looking back. I can’t see through the darkly tinted passenger window to see who she’s talking too. But I do see that she isn’t noticing me at all.

  I drop back behind her as we leave the light and follow her. Now I’m sure to find out what she’s been hiding!

  Only three blocks up, she turns and I stay back far enough so she doesn’t figure out I’m following her. Then she takes a sharp right into a fenced in parking lot.

  Parking across the street, I watch her as she gets out of the car and goes to the passenger door right behind the driver’s seat. I look at the sign of the little yellow building with the red roof and see that it’s a daycare facility.

  Maybe she’s dropping off some neighbor’s kids.

  She opens the door and it takes her some time to get the kid out. Then out comes a little boy. She takes his hand then goes around to the other side and I can’t see what she’s doing.

  After a minute or so, I see her walking up the sidewalk. The little boy is walking beside her, holding her hand and she’s carrying a little girl.

  The little girl has blonde hair just like Mercy’s, only the girl’s is really curly. A woman opens the door for her. Mercy kisses the girl on the cheek then hands her to the lady. Then she kneels down a little and kisses the little boy on the top of his head and pats him on the shoulder and says something to him.

  I roll my window down to see if I can hear anything. Then I hear her voice as she waves and turns to walk back to the car, “I love you two. Be good. I’ll be here at six to get you.”

  That’s not the way anyone talks to a neighbor’s or friend’s kids, is it?

  Mercy has kids! And she lied to me when I asked her that question!

  Why would she lie to me?

  Following her to the spa, I can’t even think about what I’m going to say to her. She lied to me!

  I’m too pissed to face her right now, so I take the next left and change my plans for the day. I won’t be going to the spa today. I have no idea if I’ll be able to contain my pissed off state.

  Instead, I think I need some more information and I think I might know how to get that. Mercy may not be willing to let me in on why she’s hiding those kids from me, but there’s more than one way to skin a cat.

  A little phone call has me well on my way to finding out what her deal is. “Hi, I was wondering if you would be willing to accept a donation of children’s books.”

  The woman answers enthusiastically, “Of course!”

  I thought so. “Can I bring them by this morning?”

  “That would be great. Anytime will be fine. Just ring the bell and I can come check your ID and let you inside. Your name is?” she asks.

  “Jude Hurst,” I tell her.

  Quickly, she asks, “Oh! Of Hurst Oil and Gas?”

  “Yes, mam. Our company is helping out some of Dallas’ daycares and I picked yours.”

  She squeals with delight. “Will the news media be with you?”

  “No, this isn’t a public outreach program. This is private. Very private. What are your policies on reading to the kids?” I ask as my wheels are turning in my head as I’m trying to figure out how I can get to talk to at least that little boy who seems like he’s old enough to be able to carry on at least a little bit of a conversation.

  “If you’re talking about you reading to them, that will be fine. Your reputation is very public. You have no criminal history and that’s what we care about. So when can we expect you? I’ll set up a little reading time today if you want.”

  “How about around nine. I’ll bring some fruit trays so the kids can snack while I read them a few stories. I really love children,” I say as I head out to a bookstore to load up on some books.

  “That sounds wonderful!” she gushes. “See you then.”

  As I drive down the road I get the sudden urge to give Mercy one more chance to come clean with me before I go all undercover on her. She answers her phone, “Good morning, Jude. Will I be seeing you this morning?”

  “No,” I say. “I have things to do this morning.”

  “Oh! Okay. This afternoon then?” she asks, sounding a little disappointed.

  Well, so am I!

  “I’m not sure yet. Mercy, are you sure you don’t want to tell me why you are so busy? You know, the real reason why you can’t do more with me or let me come to your house?”

  “Jude, for God’s sake, let it go. Crap!”

  She sounds exasperated and now I am too. I mean, damn! I told her kids were not a deal breaker so what the hell is her problem?

  “Fine, Mercy! Forgive me for giving a fuck about you!”

  “I’m sorry, Jude,” she says as her voice goes very soft. “Call me when you figure out if you’re coming to the spa today or not. Okay?”

  “I will,” I tell her then hang up.

  Why the hell would she hide her kids from me? Or is there more than kids she’s hiding?

  To be continued...

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  SHIVER

  AN ALPHA BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE

  Preview of the Story

  Parts 1 &2

  By Michelle Love

  Facebook Michelle Love

  SHIVER

  AN ALPHA BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE

  Part 1

  Love Me

  By Michelle Love

  Description

  When billionaire art dealer, Sam Levy, meets gorgeous young artist Isabel Flynn, his life is turned upside down. The incredible sexual attraction between them is only matched by their emotional connection – they both fall hard and fast for the other. But outside their little bubble of happiness, they both have people in their lives who wish them harm, and when Isa’s first exhibition is vandalized and the gallery burned to the ground, they must face up to the fact that dark forces are at work which could destroy their love forever…

  #1

  Love Me

  Afterward, Sam would think back about how it all started, how he found her. After all the love, the laughter, the tears, the terror, the blood. The loss. After all of that, how it began came down to a simple matter of whether to turn left…or right.

  It was that rare thing – a cloudless Fall day. Above Seattle, Mt Rainier painted itself onto the skyline; the calm waters of the Bay swishing gently on the wooden piers and pillars. Tourists and locals intermingling; panhandlers ducking the sharp eyes of local cops.

  Samuel Levy sat on one of the benches on Pier 39, people-watching, breathing in the smell of the water, of the restaurants along the waterfront. He watched the ferryboats leaving their moorings, drifting lazily, churning up the water of Elliot Bay in their wake.

  He envied their sedate passage, the excitement of travel, delivering people and tourists to the many islands of Puget Sound.

  He, however, had back-to-back meetings, most of them nothing to do with his actual job, his passion: art. Accountants, business managers…Sam sighed. The minutiae of running his own business. The dull stuff, the thing he had been trying to avoid all week.

  He glanced up at the mount
ain again. It always seemed to him that it wasn’t real, that it had been painted onto the Seattle Skyline as an afterthought. Beautiful.

  Sam took a swig of bottled water. Nah. Nope. No. He’d blow off the meetings; it was too gorgeous a day to waste in airless meeting rooms, losing the will to live. He could go do tourist stuff – although since falling in love with the place a few years back, he’d already done most of it. He could catch a ferryboat out to one of the islands, go see old friends, check out new local artists.

  He stood, trying to decide. Left to the city, right along the waterfront to the ferry terminal.

  Left or right?

  Ten minutes later, he was on one of the ferryboats, on his way to Bainbridge Island. He pulled his cell-phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts and dialed.

  ‘Eagle Harbor Gallery.’

  Sam recognized her voice immediately. Zoe Marshall, retired art professor, gallery owner.

  ‘Zoe, it’s Sam.’

  There was a long pause then… ‘Samuel Alexander Levy, where the hell have you been? It’s about damn time you called me!’

  Sam laughed; Zoe was only a few years older than his thirty-eight, but she always made him feel like an errant schoolboy, in the best way.

  ‘I can do you one better than that; I’m on my way to you now.’

  Zoe squealed excitedly. ‘Your timing is perfect. Seb’s home from college, he’ll be so delighted to see you. Isa will be here later too, about time you two met.’

  There was a distinct tone to her voice when she said the young woman’s name and Sam grinned.

  ‘Zo, what are you up to?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She was all innocence. ‘Anyways, you’ll stay for dinner, yes?’

  He agreed and saying goodbye to his friend, ended the call. He laughed to himself. Zoe never changed; she was always trying to fix him up.

  Sam had known Seb, Zoe’s teenage son, from a child (his father hadn’t stuck around long after Zoe fell pregnant) but he’d never met Isa – Isabel – Zoe’s de facto daughter. He knew she was an Art major, that Zoe had taken her in …Sam shook his head; he couldn’t remember the rest of her story now. He knew she was an artist, that Zoe and Seb adored her, that she was kind of reclusive. After Casey, his now thankfully ex-wife, Sam knew he wasn’t about get involved with another artist, but it would be good to meet someone so special to his old friends.

  Zoe screeched across the gallery floor, a whirlwind of multi-colored scarves and enveloped him in a perfumed hug. His six-five dwarfed the African-American woman, despite her breakneck designer heels. Her round face, with its soft lines and sparkling brown eyes, beamed up at him. Sam laughed at her exuberance and hugged her tightly.

  ‘Hey shorty, it’s been too long.’

  Zoe drew back from the hug and tried to look disapproving. ‘And whose fault is that, you big lug?’ She squinted at him and touched the salt-and-pepper hair at his temples. ‘That wasn’t there the last time we saw you – in fact; I seem to remember you were fresh out of diapers…’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, keep on exaggerating. Some of us have work to do; we can’t go gallivanting around pretending to be professors.’

  Sam ducked to avoid the swipe she aimed at him, then covered his ears mockingly as she screeched ‘Seb!’ towards the back of the gallery.

  Sam briefly wondered where the mysterious Isabel was but then was assailed again by the young man who came bounding through the door, his wide smile already ear-splitting.

  ‘Dude!’

  Sam hugged him. Seb was nearly as tall as he was now, but gangly, all loose limbs and energy. His long dark dreads were tied back neatly, his t-shirt artfully torn to reveal a hard athlete’s body. Sam suddenly felt old and told him so. Zoe rolled her eyes.

  ‘Imagine how I feel,’ she muttered, then turned to Seb, ‘Where’s your sister?’

  ‘Still at work.’

  Zoe sighed. ‘Of course, she is.’

  Sam smiled at her exasperation expression. ‘What does she do?’

  ‘She’s a research fellow at UW,’ Seb interrupted his mother. ‘A good one, they all wanted her when she applied.’

  ‘Of course, they did,’ Zoe was preening, and Sam grinned. ‘Seb, go and call the university, ask her where she is.’

  ‘Or I could just call her cell phone, Grandma,’ Seb muttered, wandering off. Zoe scowled at his retreating back and bore Sam into another room off the main gallery.

  ‘Come here; I want to show you some of Isa’s work.’

  Isa slid around the corner of the gallery unseen and quickly darted up the stairs to the apartment above the garage. Inside, she didn’t turn the lights on, wanting to be alone before she was inevitably summoned for the ‘family’ meal up in the main house. She just needed an hour, two, on her own to unwind, chill out, eat junk food. There was a bag of hand-cooked potato chips with her name on it that she’d been thinking about all day.

  She headed straight for her secret stash – and found it empty.

  ‘Fucking, fucking Seb…’ she muttered, disappointed. She sighed and went towards the bathroom, shedding clothes as she went. The apartment was little more than three rooms divided by screens. A small bedroom with her queen-sized bed, books piled up on her nightstand. The bathroom with its claw-footed bath and ancient shower head; and the open plan kitchen/living room, where all manner of art supplies, records, more books and half- finished soda cans made it her space, the place she loved the most.

  Isabel Flynn loved her job, loved it but lately all she seems to be doing was catching up on her boss’s paperwork for him and babysitting him through a particularly grueling funding application. At twenty-eight, she hadn’t imagined she’d still be working on her Ph.D., funding it through long hours at the university and working at the gallery. She felt frustrated at not being where she thought she would be but then she reminded herself where she came from. She’d leave but really, and she smiled to herself now at the thought of his crumpled blazer and bedraggled beard, she loved Sandy; he epitomized every stereotype of the downtrodden college professor. But the hours at the moment were killing her, and there was so little time left to paint.

  She sighed, rubbing conditioner into her hair, closing her eyes, letting the warm spray hit her face and scrub it clean. Dressing in her usual uniform - jeans and t-shirt - and half-heartedly drying her hair, she pondered pretending she was sick and avoiding whatever Zoe had planned for tonight. Then she felt bad; Zoe had saved her, done everything for her since she’d been estranged from her family. Zoe was her family now.

  ‘And that sneaky chip-thief,’ she muttered to herself as she reluctantly closed her front door and headed towards the gallery.

  Inside it was quiet so she could hear Zoe on the phone at the front. Isa slipped around to the small corner where her artwork was and was delighted and gratified to see a Sold sticker on one of her biggest pieces. That would pay her rent for the next six months, she thought and gave a silent ‘whoop!’.

  ‘It’s stunning.’

  The voice, the silky, deep, sensual, voice from behind her made her leap around in shock and clutch her chest as adrenaline coursed through her.

  ‘Holy shivering fuck balls,’ she said, trying to catch her breath. The man behind her burst out laughing. Jesus, Isa let out a long breath, gorgeous. So tall, he towered above her five-five and suddenly she felt lost for words. His closely cropped dark hair, intense green eyes, a body that seemed carved from marble. Expensive tailored three-piece suit. His finely angled face was softened by that smile.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  She stared at him dumbly for a second, not quite believing he was real – he was so…perfect. She was amazed to find her body start to quiver, a pulse beat between her legs. Who was this guy? She shook herself.

  ‘It’s okay.’ It was, it really was. She stuck out her hand. ‘Isabel Flynn.’ When they shook, his warm, dry hand dwarfed hers and she wasn’t imagining it, held hers a little longer than necessary. The atm
osphere in the room was so charged; it made her breathless. He smiled down at her, and his eyes were curious, alive, filled with…desire? Am I projecting? She could imagine him suddenly pulling her into his arms to kiss her or push her against the wall and…

  ‘Sam Levy.’

  That brought her to her senses. ‘Sam Levy? The Sam Levy?’

  He smiled, and his eyes shone. ‘For my sins.’

  Wow. Sam Levy, here in front of her. His reputation as one of the best art dealers in the world, his impeccable taste, he was almost legendary in the art world. Zoe had often told her there was no-one better. She just hadn’t mentioned how freaking handsome he was. Isa was surprised; he was younger than she would have expected for someone of. She was aware she was gaping, and smoothed her expression, smiling politely at him.

  ‘It’s good to meet you.’ Her voice shook slightly, and she cursed herself silently. Sam smiled again, touched a finger to her cheek. The gesture so intimate, so comforting, so kind, it made her whole body quiver. Sam nodded again at her painting.

  ‘As I said, it’s stunning. Incredible. The depth of color, the way you’ve blended them to create…wow. Fan of Rothko, hey?’

  She grinned. ‘You got it. And I just love playing with color, putting shades that should clash wildly but somehow work.’