All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction)

by Thorne, Olivia

“I said guarantees, not Monopoly money.”

  I wondered if Mr. Templeton got the jab about Monopoly.

  “There are no guarantees, you’re just going to have to trust us,” Miranda said.

  “Or you could sext me a couple of nude pictures,” Connor suggested impishly.

  I did not enjoy hearing that.

  Miranda looked at me. “I don’t think your current lady friend would appreciate it.”

  I shrugged. “People get junk mail all the time.”

  “Mm,” Miranda smiled – then, “No.”

  “C’mon – you and Vincent could whip up some sort of a sex tape,” Connor suggested. “Although I don’t think the market really needs another sleep aid.”

  “Watch it, you’re talking about my future wife,” Vincent said angrily.

  For the first time ever, I saw Miranda’s mask slip, just the tiniest bit. A hint of displeasure – annoyance? Disgust? – flitted across her countenance as she looked out of the corner of her eye at Vincent.

  Connor isn’t the only Templeton she’s played, I realized.

  Connor didn’t see it. He was too busy staring down his brother. “First off, maybe the irony of that comment will sink in later. You’re too stupid to realize it immediately. Second of all, I wasn’t really bagging on her so much as on you.”

  “Fuck you, Connor,” Vincent snarled.

  “Your ‘future wife’ certainly did,” Connor shot back. “How does it feel to come in second place again, Vincent?”

  Ewww.

  I was really, really not enjoying this.

  Neither was Vincent. He was turning a mottled red.

  “Actually, I’d say he’s first place all the way,” Miranda cooed as she patted his cheek.

  Not from the way you looked a second ago, lady.

  Vincent looked mollified.

  That was, until Connor said, “You lied to me before, and you’re doing it again, Miranda. And to Vincent, too.” Then he tsk-tsk-tsked with his tongue.

  “For God’s sake, stop the brothel talk,” Mrs. Templeton snapped.

  If I had been drinking something, I would have snorted it up my nose.

  If this was brothel talk, it must be upper-class, billionaire WASP brothel talk. Mrs. Templeton had obviously never watched Jerry Springer.

  Even the fact that she was using the word ‘brothel.’ I guess that’s where ‘harlots’ hang out.

  “I agree,” Mr. Templeton said with obvious distaste. “Tell us what you want without the disgusting innuendoes.”

  “Alright, then – I need some sort of leverage to ensure you don’t just blithely decide to nuke me later,” Connor said.

  “Mutually assured destruction? I think not.”

  “We’ll come back to that. Next on the agenda is, I want something for my troubles. Stock in your companies. All of your companies.”

  Vincent laughed derisively. “For what?”

  “For my troubles. For my sunk costs getting the Nevada deal off the ground. For so cruelly crushing my hopes and dreams,” Connor said in a mocking voice.

  “You can have shares in mine,” Miranda said in a bored voice. “I’ll give you two.”

  “Two million?”

  “Two shares.”

  “That’s funny. You know, your companies’ stocks are like you in bed, Miranda: overhyped and totally lifeless.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Mrs. Templeton hissed.

  I have to admit, I kind of agreed with her.

  Ewww. Ew, ew, EWWWW.

  Although it was fun to hear my competition get torn down, at least.

  But the thought of them together –

  EWWWWWWWWW.

  Miranda smiled. “And you were like your company’s dividends, Connor: small and unimpressive.”

  Vincent laughed – but I laughed louder.

  “Ha!” I snorted. “You’re forgetting, somebody here knows you’re lying.”

  The entire table turned to look at me.

  My face turned a shade of scarlet and felt hotter than a jalapeno.

  At least Connor was grinning.

  Javier kind of leaned over a little and arched one eyebrow over his sunglasses as he checked out Connor.

  “Discuss your sordid love life on your own time, Connor,” Mrs. Templeton spat, “and have your little slut spare us the details.”

  Anger flared inside me – and then Sebastian came to my rescue once again. In spirit, that is.

  “Did you hear that, Miranda? Lenora wants you to pipe down,” I said, making a motion with my fingers like a sock puppet shutting its mouth.

  Miranda looked at me, and I swear to God, the marrow froze in my bones. It was the look serial killers must give their victims as they pondered them, tied up and helpless. “You certainly do have a lot to say for someone whose blurred-out breasts are going to be all over television tomorrow morning. Too bad your face won’t be obscured.”

  I didn’t have a smart comeback to that. I just slowly lowered my hand puppet below the table.

  “I still want the stocks,” Connor pressed. “Ten percent share in each of your companies and all subsidiaries.”

  Mr. Templeton shook his head. “You’re stark raving mad. You don’t get to come in here and negotiate the terms of your surrender.”

  “You mean, the terms of your blackmail and extortion?” Connor asked.

  There was a subdued buzzing across from me, and Miranda looked down at something under the table. Probably her cell phone.

  “What on earth did you come here for?” Mrs. Templeton attacked. “Did you really think we were going to give you anything?”

  “Yeah – ten percent of all stock in each of your companies, and all subsidiaries,” Connor said, smooth as silk.

  “No, Lenora, he didn’t,” Miranda said – and her voice was chilling. “He’s only stalling for time.”

  It was the sound of a serial killer the second he decides to finish off the victim.

  I looked over and my stomach felt like it dropped out of my body.

  Normally Miranda had a face that didn’t betray anything more than the barest of emotions, and then only through her eyes. Did you ever read Great Expectations? I did, in 8th grade. One of the few things that stuck with me (other than I thought Miss Havisham was a vampire because time froze for her, she kept away from the sun, and she got destroyed by fire) was Dickens’ description of Estella. He said at one point that Miss Havisham taught Estella never to have any facial expressions, because that way she would never have any wrinkles. Sort of like 19th century Botox without the needles.

  Miranda was like that. She had a perfectly smooth face, and never gave away anything beyond the barest hint of a smile, or a cold shadow over her face and a steely glint in her eyes when she was angry.

  But ohhh, she was angry now.

  Her brows were knit together, and her upper lip was drawn up in a sneer. By a normal person’s standards, she didn’t look that angry – but when a marble statue suddenly glares at you, it’s frightening.

  “A satellite feed at 7:30 AM on Good Morning America,” she said, staring into Connor’s eyes. “Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out?”

  Despite his lapse earlier when Miranda held hands with Vincent, Connor was in fine form now. He gave her a puzzled little stare. “What?”

  “No doubt you thought you’d go on the offensive. ‘Get out front of’ the controversy. Well... let me give you something to get out in front of.”

  She swiped at her phone screen, then tapped her finger again.

  Then she looked up at me, everything in her face dead but her eyes.

  They looked like two hot points of rage boring through me.

  I swear to God, I’ve never seen anything scarier in my life.

  “Do you hear that, Ms. Ross?” she asked, and smiled – which was even more frightening.

  There was a musical chime from the phone, and she turned it so I could read the screen:

  MESSAGE SENT.

  “That�
��s the sound of your world crumbling,” she whispered.

  18

  I stiffened up like a corpse. Whereas my face had felt hot and enflamed just a few minutes ago, now I could literally feel the blood draining out of my cheeks.

  How long do I have?

  How long do I have before my parents see those pictures?

  When I’d agreed to go down in a ball of flames, I hadn’t really thought it through.

  I hadn’t anticipated the panic, the fear, the absolute terror that gripped me from head to foot.

  Anh –

  I need to call Anh –

  And then I felt Connor’s hand, warm and alive, wrap itself around mine.

  Life pulsed back into me through him.

  I looked over at him, and he smiled at me.

  I could see the agony in his eyes, though.

  I closed my eyes… and when I opened them, I smiled.

  I had to be brave.

  He squeezed my hand reassuringly, and then he turned to Miranda.

  And serial killer met serial killer.

  “Just so you know,” he said in a low, threatening voice, “I have now made it my life’s mission to destroy you.”

  “I heard this song eight months ago, and it was boring then,” Miranda sighed like a put-upon teenager.

  “I never said I would destroy you back then. I just told you to get out and never cross my path again. Well… you did… and now I’m going to crush you. And I’m going to enjoy every single moment of it. Even if it takes my entire fortune and I have to wait fifty years to see it through, it is now my life’s work to make sure you die a miserable, broken, shell of a human being.”

  Miranda smiled coyly. “If you want to know what one looks like, check with Ms. Ross tomorrow evening. I’m sure her suffering – because of your stupidity, I might add – will be an excellent preview.”

  My stomach twisted, my blood ran cold, and I thought I might cry – until I heard a voice behind me:

  A very loud, very gay voice.

  “Oh my GOD, if it isn’t the Addams family – and their little dog, too!” it finished in a gleeful mimicry of the mean old lady from The Wizard Of Oz.

  A chair dragged up right between me and Connor, and Sebastian stuck his face in the gap between us.

  His voice dropped to a sympathetic murmur, as though he were explaining things to a child. “If you don’t understand the metaphor, Miranda, it means that you’re… the bitch.”

  “Oh, it’s the pet homosexual,” Miranda sneered, though with barely a change in her expression. “I was surprised when you didn’t show up on Connor’s chain.”

  “Darling, if you’re into BDSM, I’d be happy to superglue a ballgag in your mouth,” Sebastian offered. “That way we wouldn’t have to hear you, and you wouldn’t have to orally pleasure Vincent’s little cocktail wiener anymore. Win-win all around. No offense, Vincent. Besides, I’m sure she wasn’t any good at it, anyway.”

  Vincent was getting mottled red again.

  “Oh my GOD,” Mrs. Templeton snapped as she got up to leave. “Augustus, it’s time to leave now that Sodom and Gomorrah has arrived.”

  “Oh, Lenora, I didn’t even see you over there! It really is like the Wizard of Oz! The Wicked Bitch of the East…”

  Here he gestured at Mrs. Templeton with one hand, and then at Miranda with the other.

  “…and the Wicked Bitch of the West. But where’s a good house falling out of the sky when you need one?”

  Miranda smiled coldly and stood up. “You should have been here earlier. You could have stalled a few minutes longer with your stupid insults.”

  “No, no,” Sebastian said, waggling his finger, “the insults aren’t stupid… you are. But that’s alright, I don’t expect you to figure it all out at once.”

  “Goodbye, Connor,” Miranda said. “Enjoy the last few hours of anonymity you have left. And Ms. Ross… I’d say I’m sorry… but I’m so, so not.”

  She walked away from the table, not even waiting for Vincent, who scurried after her like a rodent.

  The bodyguards flanked the elder Templetons and escorted them out of the restaurant.

  “Bye, bitches!” Sebastian called out. “Watch out for buckets of waterrrrr!”

  There was a moment of quiet as we sat there alone in the restaurant.

  Sebastian looked over at Connor and winced. “…too much?”

  Connor grinned. “Not enough, in my opinion.”

  Sebastian looked relieved. “Good. I figured that might be my last time I ever see them face to face, so I decided to go with the nuclear option.”

  “Like a big, gay, atom bomb,” I said, grinning in spite of myself.

  “And don’t you forget it,” Sebastian said as he give a little kiss to Javier. “Oh, my, you look amazing.”

  “He did extremely well. Thanks again, Javier,” Connor said as he stood and helped me to my unsteady feet. “What happens now?”

  “The jet is waiting at the airport, ready to fly us to New York. All our things are already down in the Bentley.”

  Connor looked impressed. “You have been busy.”

  “Unlike your ex and your horrid family, I don’t sit around congratulating myself on how wonderful I am.”

  Connor laughed as he hooked his arm through mine and escorted me out of the restaurant, with Johnny, Javier, and Sebastian close behind. “Thank God for that.”

  “I heard your little speech as I arrived,” Sebastian said. “About destroying Miranda being your new life’s work.”

  “And what did you think?”

  “Charming. But you’re going to have some competition.”

  “Who?”

  “Me. Because I’m going to kill that bitch if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Get in line,” I muttered, and wondered how long I had to start making my phone calls.

  19

  We went down to the lobby and out to the valet circle where the Bentley was waiting for us. The valet handed off the keys to Johnny, but before we could get in, Connor turned to Javier.

  “You’re welcome to come with us,” he said to Javier, then added to Sebastian, “If you want him there for moral support – ”

  The smaller man smiled. “Thank you, but I must be getting back. I have a shoot in two days, and I know Sebastian will be very busy, so – ”

  “I’ll make it up to you when this is all over,” Sebastian promised.

  “You do what you need to do and don’t worry about me.”

  Connor smiled. “Thanks for the help up there.”

  “It was very… interesting.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Connor laughed darkly, then turned to Sebastian. “Did you book a flight for him?”

  “Of course – first class back to LAX, leaves in an hour and a half,” Sebastian said, like he was insulted Connor would dare suggest he didn’t have things in order.

  “We’d drop you off if we could – ” Connor started, but Javier waved his hand.

  “Don’t worry, Sebastian’s already got a cab waiting for me.”

  “Johnny, be a darling and get his things, will you?” Sebastian asked.

  While Johnny retrieved the two pieces of luggage from the trunk, Javier shook hands with Connor and gave me a hug. When he pulled back, he gave me a sympathetic smile. “I hope this works out alright for you.”

  “Thank you,” I smiled back, then frowned a little. “But… why aren’t we giving you a ride to the airport?”

  “He’s going to McCarran, we’re going to Henderson,” Sebastian said as Javier shook hands with Johnny. “Now shoo, shoo, all of you get in the car, I have to tell my man goodbye.”

  We grinned at each other, said our last goodbyes, and got into the Bentley, then waited until Sebastian opened the door and settled in beside Connor. This wasn’t a stretch limo like the kinds with seats facing one another, so I had to look across Connor to see Sebastian’s expression.

  He looked wistful. And a little bit conflicted, like he
wanted to stay.

  Johnny’s voice came over the intercom. “We good to go, guys?”

  Connor didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at his right-hand man (literally).

  “Let’s do it,” Sebastian answered. He rolled down the window and waved goodbye as Johnny pulled out. The last I saw of Javier was through the rear window: a short figure in a killer suit, waving goodbye to us before he stepped into the open door of a cab.

  20

  I hadn’t understood when Sebastian said, He’s going to McCarran, we’re going to Henderson, but it quickly became apparent. The airport we drove to was small, with just two runways and a series of buildings in the darkness. Johnny checked in at a guard station off a side road, and then he drove the Bentley past a series of medium-sized hangars and right out onto the tarmac, about 50 feet away from a small jet plane. Like, an actual jet plane. No propellers or anything. It was all white, about 100 feet long, with eight small, circular windows set into the side. ‘G650’ appeared in blue along the tail. A door near the cockpit was folded down so that it touched the tarmac. I could see the steps molded into its interior and the glitter of the chrome handrail in the Bentley’s headlights.

  “Holy crap,” I whispered as we parked. “This is what I call door-to-door service.”

  “Of course,” Connor frowned, like, What were you expecting?

  We got out of the car. Sebastian walked over to talk to a couple of men in dark uniforms I assumed were the pilots. Johnny started unloading our bags from the trunk.

  “This is your plane?” I asked Connor wonderingly.

  “One of them.”

  “You have more than one private jet?!”

  He looked at me like I was being unintentionally hilarious. “Yes. I do.”

  I looked around. “Where’s security?”

  Connor pointed at Johnny.

  “No, I mean, the guys who check your luggage and stuff. TSA.”

  “There is no security line or luggage check when you fly in a private jet, Lily,” he said, grinning. “That’s one of the many reasons to fly in a private jet.”

  “Wow,” I said, totally blown away. It made sense, but I’d never thought about it before. Then a stab of panic hit me. “Wait – what’s going to happen to the car?”