All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction)

by Thorne, Olivia

  I giggled.

  Connor, Sebastian, and Johnny all looked over at me.

  I cleared my throat. “Um… you know… me having cojones… plus, ‘cojones’ sounded funny coming out of Sebastian’s mouth.”

  “There’s a really dirty joke in there somewhere – ” Johnny started.

  “STOP,” Sebastian shouted, holding up his hand like one of the Supremes.

  Connor was standing close to me. I took his hand and looked up at him.

  “Sebastian’s right,” I said. “They just handed you a golden opportunity, and they’re going to screw you if you don’t take it. You have to do this.”

  Connor stared down at me, his face conflicted.

  “I would totally give this up for you,” he whispered.

  “I know,” I said. “That’s why I don’t want you to.”

  He was quiet for a few more seconds.

  “I’ll protect you as much as I can,” he promised.

  I smiled. “I know.”

  Then he was quiet for almost ten more seconds.

  Finally he turned to Sebastian. “Alright… what do I do?”

  “You don’t do anything,” Sebastian said, happy as a clam as he pulled out his cell. “I handle it from here.”

  14

  I had never seen a real-live version of the Tasmanian Devil – you know, the brown, whirling cyclone from the Bugs Bunny cartoons? – until I saw Sebastian go into action. He paced back and forth in the suite, one phone glued to his ear while he paged through his contact list on the other. Apparently he knew just about every television news and talk show producer in New York and LA.

  “John, you are the first person I’m calling about this.”

  “Ingrid, you are the first person I’m calling about this.”

  “Aliya, you are the first person I’m calling about this. What, John texted you? Fuck John. John’s a liar.”

  “I’m in Vegas. Do I know what time it is in New York? Yes, of course I do – it’s time to shut the fuck up and listen carefully.

  “Neil, there’s a massive sex scandal that’s going to break tonight, and you’re going to want the star player on the show tomorrow. There’s a billionaire with his pants down, blackmail’s involved, and there will be lots and lots of pictures of boobies, which I know is right up your alley.”

  “What? I don’t care if you already have the guests booked, you’re going to rue the day if you pass this up. My next call is to Leno’s show. Who? I don’t care if it’s the President of the United States, you bump him, because Leno’s sure as hell going to.”

  “Mia, my next call is to Letterman’s show. I don’t care if it’s the President of the United States – ”

  “Raoul, my next call is to Fallon’s show – ”

  “Parvati, my next call is to Kimmel’s show – ”

  “DeShawn, my next call is to Conan’s show – ”

  “Carson Daly? For God’s sake, Abdul, I have standards.”

  “Of course I want him on with Ellen – it’s Ellen.”

  “Well, if Oprah hadn’t quit her show and started her own network, I would have given you my right arm. As it is, you only get the right pinky. Alright, I’ll throw in the ring finger. Ohhh, don’t push it, mister, or I’ll give you the middle finger, too.”

  “Yes, I don’t care if Roger Ailes thinks Connor’s a young George Soros, he’s a billionaire, and we all know how much Fox sucks up to the rich. Plus, you’re going to be talking about the scandal anyway, I really don’t think you want Wolf Blitzer eating your lunch. Hell, put him on Shep Smith’s show, I like Shep. Yes, I’m pretty sure he’d like me, too. Hannity?! FUCK Hannity.”

  “Tell Wolf there’s already a rumor that Shep Smith over at Fox is looking for the interview. If he doesn’t want Shep eating his lunch, I need your word, now.”

  “I’m calling Brian Williams’s people next.”

  “I’m calling Diane Sawyers’s people next.”

  “I’m calling Katie Kouric’s people next.”

  “What? An exclusive? Well… I can’t promise you that… but if the head of your network finds out you had this chance and blew it, you’ll be sucking up to me for a job in 48 hours. And I don’t mean the CBS show.”

  “Darling, trust me. Tomorrow you can either have a bite of the biggest sex scandal in the last ten years… or you can look like a little bitch who got caught with his pants down. Your choice.”

  “Book the appearance or start prepping your résumé. No, that’s not a threat, it’s a well-intentioned piece of advice.”

  “When have I ever lied to you?… Well, about anything important?… Oh please, that was six months ago, that doesn’t count.”

  “Jim? I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

  “Vanita? I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

  “Xiang? I’m calling in that favor you owe me. What favor? The favor you owe me for calling you about this.”

  15

  While Sebastian worked, we ate. Johnny demanded it – and I was actually starved. I hadn’t had anything since my lunch out, and the emotional toll of the day had drained me. I was looking for some comfort food. So we got room service to deliver steaks, amazing vegetables, and an assortment of desserts. Connor, Johnny, and I ate, while Sebastian picked off his plate as he paced and barked into his phones.

  After an exhausting hour – exhausting for us just to watch; Sebastian, however, looked flushed and energized – the Master of the Hard Sell put down his phones for a minute to brief Connor.

  “Alright, we’re screwed as far as New York goes. If we got on the Gulfstream in an hour, we’d still have a five-hour flight back home, plus we’d lose three hours due to time zones, so it’s going to have to be LA. I figure we head back to New York tomorrow night and do clean-up with Letterman and the View on Thursday. I have you on Good Morning America first thing – they’re going to patch you in by satellite, you’ve got to be ready by 4:30 A.M. Then the same for Fox and Friends – don’t give me that look, I tried to get Shep Smith. Then we’ll do some New York affiliates, and then we’ll start with the early morning LA news and radio shows. I’ve got you on Ellen, I’m waiting to see if Oprah will patch you in via live feed. Conan said yes, I’m still waiting to see if Kimmel and Leno will bite.”

  “You’re talking about booking me on competing shows in the same time slots,” Connor said, exasperated.

  “Market saturation, darling. It’s all taped earlier in the day, anyway – we’ll just run you from one studio over to the next. I’ve got you doing spots on CNN, Fox, MSNBC, and I’m waiting to hear from the networks. Plus, I’ve got you a couple of sit-downs with the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the LA Times, plus you’ll be doing interviews with all of the major Nevada outlets.”

  “What about ‘Sesame Street’ or ‘Blue’s Clues’?” I joked. “You’re ignoring the entire ‘under four years old’ demographic.”

  “It’s a sex scandal, Lily,” Sebastian sniped. “They just finishing breastfeeding, they don’t need to see yours, too.”

  “HEY!” I yelled, but laughed at the same time.

  Connor checked his watch. “It’s 8:00. What do we do about Miranda?”

  “The longer you can stall her, the better.”

  “How?”

  “Call her up and tell her you want to discuss terms. In person.”

  My cheek twitched.

  I didn’t care for the ‘in person’ part.

  Not that I didn’t trust Connor. But I still didn’t know exactly what kind of hold she still had on him, and how deep it ran…

  Connor shook his head. “She’ll know what we’re doing.”

  “She might guess what we’re doing. But who cares, as long as it works. Just go in there and do what you do best: negotiate her brains out.” Sebastian looked over at me. “That wasn’t a euphemism.”

  “GOOD,” I snapped.

  “How long do you need?” Connor asked.

  “As long as you can get me.”
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  “And we leave when?”

  “I’ll have the Gulfstream on standby so we can fly out the second she catches on.”

  My mind raced to figure out how I could prevent Connor and Miranda from being in a room alone together. “What if she came here to talk?”

  Connor burst out laughing. “There’s no way that’s happening. They’ll demand I come to their turf.”

  “Well, you’re definitely not going to do that,” Sebastian scoffed.

  I frowned. “Why not? Not that I want you to, but – ”

  “Whoever controls the home turf controls the psychological advantage,” Connor explained.

  “But… aren’t you doing fake negotiations?”

  “Yeah, but she’ll immediately know it’s fake if I just roll over.” Connor turned to Sebastian. “We’ll do it on neutral ground. A bar or upscale nightclub – Blush or something at the Wynn should do. See if you can reserve one of them, tell them I’ll triple the normal till from 9PM onward.”

  Sebastian sighed dramatically. “I guess I can add it to my already overwhelming – ”

  “Never mind.”

  “NO, no, no, I’ve got it,” Sebastian said crossly. It was as though not only was he being overburdened, but Connor was taking away all the fun of playing the martyr. Then he got a dreamy look on his face. “Oh, I wish I could be there to see her expression when she finds out…”

  “That might not be a bad idea. Get a room in the same hotel, as close to the bar as you can. I want you close by if things go south.”

  “You think she’ll buy it?” I asked incredulously.

  “Not for long, no,” Connor said. “But maybe for a couple of hours.”

  “Then why are you even doing it?”

  “Because the news getting out at 11PM is preferable to 8PM. And if she decides to wait until tomorrow morning, that’s even better. It won’t even make the newspapers.”

  “We should have as many people as possible there,” Johnny suggested. “They’ll have four, plus the bodyguards.”

  “True.” Connor looked at me. “Are you okay coming with us?”

  Am I okay making sure Grace Kelly with the Lauren Bacall voice doesn’t try to use her bombshell looks on you while I’m not there?

  “Yes,” I said empathically.

  “It might be good to have Sebastian there, too,” Johnny pointed out. “Four against four.”

  “Four against eight,” Connor contradicted him.

  “Better than three against eight.”

  “He’s got too much work to do,” Connor said. “But he can be the cavalry if we need it.”

  “Like a big, gay, atom bomb,” I smirked.

  “I heard that,” Sebastian called from across the room. “But if you need a fourth person, I’ve got an idea.”

  16

  All of us were dressed to the nines – me in my red Prada dress, Connor and Johnny in their very best. Javier walked behind Connor and me, shoulder-to-shoulder with Johnny. His Armani suit was exquisite, and an expensive pair of sunglasses masked his puppy dog eyes. His goatee and ponytail paired with the suit actually made him look pretty badass.

  But apparently he didn’t feel that way.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said pitifully.

  “A wise man told me once to fake it till you make it,” I said.

  Connor smiled but didn’t say anything.

  “But I’m not an actor,” Javier whispered. “I just cut their hair.”

  “Don’t say anything, and never smile or laugh,” Johnny advised him. “Just look like you’re pissed off the entire time. Go on, show me.”

  Javier scowled.

  With the sunglasses and the frown, he looked really badass.

  “Not bad,” Johnny said. “You’re ready for your close-up.”

  “Mr. DeMille,” Javier added playfully.

  “Yeahhhh… don’t say that.”

  “I won’t,” Javier promised, then settled back into perpetual grumpiness.

  “Lily,” Connor whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “I plan to say some things tonight that are going to be… unpleasant to hear. And I know they’re going to say some awful stuff as well. I just want you to know that anything I say, I’m saying to make them mad. To put them off balance. I just need you to remember that.”

  I looked over at him and winced. “What… kind of things?”

  “Miranda and I have a past. You know that.”

  I winced more. “…and?”

  “It might come up. Actually, I’ll be bringing it up as a weapon, whenever I can.”

  I sighed… and then leaned my head against his arm. “Do whatever you have to do.”

  He smiled, put his finger under my chin, tilted my head up, and kissed me lightly on the lips.

  All future unpleasantries were forgiven.

  We entered the restaurant at exactly 8:59. Connor had had to go through some back-and-forth with Miranda over the phone – she rejected every single one of his suggestions – until they agreed on a compromise. Sebastian had secured an entire private room for VIPs, and now we were in business.

  The restaurant was an interesting fusion of dark, masculine wood and modern, sleek design. Old Vegas meets the New Vegas. As soon as we entered the foyer, the maître d’ gave us a look of recognition, nodded once, and said, “Right this way.”

  He led us down a wood-paneled hallway to a private room, open and spacious, with a forty-foot long glass window that looked out over the Strip. When you’re down on the street, all the neon and blinking lights can look gaudy – but from 300 feet overhead, it’s magical.

  There was a long table set in front of the window, and a private bar off to the side. A bartender in a crisp white shirt, vest, and black bowtie fixed a mixed drink while a nervous waitress in white and black stood at attention.

  My stomach turned when I saw the other people in the room. Vincent was off in a corner on his cell phone. Mr. and Mrs. Templeton stood by the window looking down on the city like a vicious king and queen, with two bodyguards flanking them on either side.

  Miranda was in the middle of the room, waiting. She looked stunning in a strapless green evening gown that showed off her bare porcelain shoulders and long, graceful neck.

  As soon as we walked in, she gave Connor a cold smile – and completely ignored the rest of us.

  “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

  “I actually thought you might walk in late,” Connor said snidely, “and make us wait.”

  “I’m not one for cheap theatrics,” she said, then let her eyes flit over the rest of us. “Unlike other people I know.”

  “Really? So walking into my hotel room this afternoon with my brother wasn’t cheap theatrics?”

  “No, it was a devastating tactic,” Miranda replied.

  Ouch.

  I looked at Connor, but the poker mask never slipped.

  “We could have done this on the phone,” Miranda added.

  “What, and miss the opportunity to visit with my family?” Connor smiled ironically. “I see them so seldom.”

  “By choice.”

  “By necessity. Otherwise I might kill them. Mother, Dad,” Connor said as he brushed past Miranda, leaving me, Johnny, and Javier with the ice queen.

  She looked at me with about as much interest as she might inspect a pile of dirt. “Ms. Ross.”

  Be like Sebastian – be like Sebastian –

  “I’d say my friends call me Lily, but you’re not my friend, so – hello, Ms. Lockwood.”

  The barest hint of a smile. “I can see why he likes you. You’re so… simple. Uncomplicated.”

  “Mm. For the life of me, I can’t see why he ever liked you.”

  She smirked. “Besides the obvious?”

  You mean the timeless beauty, the hourglass figure, and the come-hither voice? Not to mention the whole rich CEO thing?

  “You may be very beautiful, Ms. Lockwood… but you’re one of the ugliest women I
know.”

  “I would say the same about you, Ms. Ross… except I’d substitute ‘cheap and tawdry’ for ‘beautiful.’”

  Bitch, I thought angrily.

  She gestured to the bar. “Drink? For you or your hired guns?”

  At least she thought Javier was a hired gun instead of a gay hairdresser. That was a good start.

  “I’m afraid you might have put poison in it,” I smiled sweetly.

  “If your new beau doesn’t accede to our demands, you’ll wish there were poison in it,” she said, then turned around and floated over to Connor and his parents.

  I slowly boiled inside.

  “Don’t let her get to you, Lily,” Johnny whispered in my ear.

  I looked back and gave him a grateful smile.

  Then I strolled over to the group, followed by my ‘hired guns.’

  17

  Mr. Templeton demanded that everyone sit down and get it over with.

  “I have better things to do with my time than this,” he grumbled.

  “What, better than blackmail and destroying people’s lives? Come on, Dad, this is the perfect Tuesday night for you,” Connor joked as he pulled back my chair and pushed it in for me. Then he sat down beside me with Johnny on his left. Javier was on my right, his hands folded in his lap, looking suitably grim behind his sunglasses.

  Apparently it was working, because occasionally Vincent would give him a nervous glance.

  Vincent sat opposite Javier, Miranda sat across from me (Oh joy), Mr. Templeton was across from Connor, and Mrs. Templeton sat beside him, across from Johnny. The four bodyguards stood in the background, menacing shapes against the glass window and the Las Vegas skyline.

  “We wouldn’t have to resort to unpleasant measures if you weren’t such a beastly son,” Mrs. Templeton said haughtily.

  “I learned from the best, Mother.”

  “Enough,” Mr. Templeton snapped. “What do you want?”

  “Guarantees,” Connor said.

  “I already said you have my word.”