All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction)

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All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction) Page 22

by Thorne, Olivia


  “Not even… after Miranda?” I asked, allowing myself to hope.

  “Please. After Miranda he was like a bull in a china shop, always in a rage, going around destroying everything in his path. Now he just goes home and sits in his penthouse and stares out the window at the city lights and drinks until he passes out.”

  The elation was starting to fade, and I felt horrible for him.

  Until a little voice whispered, All he has to do is pick up a phone.

  “And he’s always looking at something,” Sebastian said.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know… something he carries around in his pocket all the time, but he always puts it away when I walk in the room. And he stares at his phone a lot.”

  “Like… he’s thinking about calling me?” I asked, my eyes filling with tears.

  “Maybe.”

  “Then why doesn’t he?!”

  “Because he’s Connor. The man may be a brilliant businessman, but he’s one of the stupidest idiots I’ve seen when it comes to knowing what makes him happy.”

  “Do… do you think I make him happy?”

  “Lily, PLEASE. Don’t YOU be a stupid idiot, too.”

  I smiled a little through my tears. “Should I call him, then?”

  “NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

  “Okay, Jeez,” I said, holding my phone out about a foot away from my head. “Way to rupture my eardrum, by the way.”

  “Well don’t be stupid, then. I’m working on something, and if you call him, you’ll just screw it up.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “You’ll see,” Sebastian said coyly, then became all business. “He’s coming, got to go.”

  “Sebastian – ”

  “Ciao!”

  Click.

  I sat there at my desk, staring out through the glass windows at the palm trees in the late afternoon sun.

  What did Sebastian have in mind?

  Why was he being so secretive?

  And how long would I have to wait to find out?

  I remembered telling Anh that she should wait to quit until we got another client… and then the magic call came the next morning.

  I hoped that this would be that easy, that I would be spared the agony of waiting and uncertainty… but no. Sebastian didn’t contact me for another week.

  I actually found out beforehand, but I didn’t put 2 and 2 together.

  Not that it was entirely my fault; I just couldn’t have imagined Sebastian was that devious.

  22

  The answer came on the social page of the Los Angeles Times. I didn’t read the paper regularly, but Anh did, so we got it delivered to the office.

  We were taking an afternoon break as we planned our next consulting gig. I was drinking coffee and answering emails. She was sitting across the desk and reading the paper when she suddenly looked up at me with something akin to horror.

  I glanced up. “What?”

  Her eyes flitted back and forth between me and the paper. “Uhhh…”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “Hypothetically… if I knew something that I knew you’d want to know, but it wouldn’t help you and would probably just make you upset, should I still tell you?” she asked in a miserable voice. “…hypothetically.”

  Terror of the unnamed and unimaginable surged through me. I clicked through a list of things she might be talking about – my parents were in an accident, my brother was hurt, Connor –

  Connor.

  The newspaper.

  There was something in there about him.

  Our eyes locked, and she knew I knew.

  She started to move, but I was too fast for her.

  I lunged over the desk, grabbed the paper, and yanked it out of her hands.

  “Hey!” she shouted as I flipped it around and scanned the open pages.

  Again, I clicked through a list: he died. He’s got a new girlfriend. He’s married.

  None of my options were the right ones, but the headline still felt like a punch to the gut.

  ‘Naughty Billionaire Plans Gala At Dubai Hotel’

  The ‘naughty’ part triggered horrible flashbacks to the photographs, but the real pain lay in the second half of the sentence.

  Connor was coming back to LA.

  There was a black-and-white picture of him accompanying the article, but at least I was spared the sight of him with some Playboy Playmate on his arm. It was actually an older shot, one of the photos I had in my secret computer folder that I opened late at night when I was having a glass of wine and nursing my pain.

  I started hyperventilating as I read the article.

  Billionaire Connor Templeton, fresh off a sex scandal two months ago, is making a triumphant return to Los Angeles Friday night to simultaneously host a charity event and celebrate the launch of his new business venture.

  Friday night.

  TONIGHT.

  I would have started flapping my hands in panic if they weren’t gripping the newspaper so tight that my fingers were turning white.

  The invitation-only party will benefit the H2O Now Global Clean Water Initiative, and will also promote the beginning of his new solar energy company, Templeton Solar, which has passed all the necessary regulatory hurdles and is expected to break ground in Nevada next month. When asked why the party is being held in Los Angeles, a representative of Mr. Templeton’s said that “the event is to raise awareness. All of Hollywood’s biggest stars and environmental allies will be there, as well as business luminaries and political figures from across the country.”

  ‘A representative of Mr. Templeton’s’?

  Could that be Sebastian?

  The luxurious private party will be held in the ballroom of the Dubai Hotel, which is owned by Mr. Templeton.

  I thought bitterly of going and standing outside like some deluded groupie, hoping to catch a glimpse of my dream lover while he cavorted inside with supermodels.

  I put down the paper on my desk and tried to contain my emotions.

  Anh winced and watched me carefully. “…are you okay?”

  I struggled to put on a smile, but I could feel the edges of my mouth trembling with the effort. “I’m fine.”

  She winced even more. “…are you sure?”

  Now my entire mouth was trembling. “Sure I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I… be… ”

  Then my eyes filled up with tears. I buried my face in my hands and broke down sobbing.

  “Awww, Lily…” Anh whimpered as she rushed around the desk and put her arms around me.

  I fought to regain control of myself. “I’m fine, I’m fine… I don’t know why I’m upset… I mean, I knew he had to come back here at some point… and I’m not even going to see him…”

  But maybe that was the problem.

  He was coming back to the place where he and I had spent the most amazing weekend of my life… and he couldn’t even be bothered to call me.

  No, that wasn’t even it. Why would he call me? What would he say? Hey, I know I haven’t called before now, I’m just going to be in town and I don’t want to see you, so… bye.

  No. It was that this was proof, once and for all, that it was over.

  Until now, we had had an entire continent between us, and I had been able to tell myself ‘he’s over there. He’s not here, he’s over there.’ The psychic distance between us was because we were separated by 2500 miles.

  But now he was going to be back in Los Angeles…

  …and I wasn’t going to see him.

  Because it was over.

  He had gone on with his life.

  I broke down sobbing again.

  Anh held onto me tightly, caressing my hair the way you would a crying child, and murmured in my ear, “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay…”

  That was when my cell phone rang.

  “Just let it go to voicemail,” Anh said.

  I almost took her advice, but then I thought, Hell, if he can move on, so can I.
/>   And… if I’m going to be honest… there was a tiny, irrational hope inside me that it was Connor who was calling.

  “I’m okay.” I wiped away the tears from my eyes and looked at the caller ID on the screen.

  Anh let go of me and stood up, but kept her hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you want to talk to a client like this? Or a potential – ”

  “It’s Sebastian,” I said with a frown.

  Like always, mixed emotions: fear… and a tiny bit of irrational hope.

  I tapped the ‘Answer’ button. “Hello?”

  “What, you don’t answer the phone ‘Ross And Associates Consulting’ anymore?” Sebastian’s voice chided me.

  I smiled. “Not when I know it’s you.”

  “You never know – maybe I need some consulting.”

  My smile tightened when I remembered that he hadn’t bothered to let me know what was going on tonight. “Then you can drop by while you’re in town this weekend.”

  He didn’t sound abashed at all. “You already know – good. Where are you?”

  “At my office.”

  “In Santa Monica.”

  “Yes – ”

  “Leave right now and go home immediately.”

  “What? Why?!”

  “I’ll be there in about 45 minutes, and I’m working like a madman to pull this damn charity event off, so do NOT make me wait outside of some grungy little apartment.”

  “What are you – ”

  “Ta-ta, see you in forty-five,” he said, and then hung up, infuriating as ever.

  23

  “You’re not actually going, are you?” Anh asked. She was running after me as I hustled out of my office and through our small reception area. Susan and Phuong – Anh’s friends, and our new receptionist and IT person – watched in alarm as we flitted by.

  I bolted out of the glass doors of our second-story office and into the lobby, a giant atrium made of glass. “Why wouldn’t I go?”

  “Uhhh, maybe because there’s no reason?”

  “There’s got to be a reason, or he wouldn’t be coming to see me,” I pointed out as my heels clacked down the steps.

  “Lily!” Anh shouted from the top of the stairs, then grew red-faced as people on the first floor stared up at her in wonder.

  I stopped and turned around on the curving staircase. “What?”

  “Just a second ago, you were all – um, upset,” she whispered loudly, though she was still audible to every single person in the atrium. “And now you’re going to go see – him?”

  “Sebastian’s not the person I’m upset about.”

  “Yeah, but he works for the person you are!”

  “So?”

  “So?! So it’s like going to see the devil’s number two guy!”

  “He’s not the devil, Anh,” I chided her. “And why are you so worried?”

  Anh pressed her lips together grimly before she answered. “Because I thought you were getting over it. I thought it had finally sunk in – and now you’re running off because – why are you running off?”

  I gripped the steel railing of the staircase.

  Why was I rushing off to see Sebastian?

  Because, somewhere deep inside me, there was still the tiniest fragment of hope still left.

  Which Anh knew… and that was what was alarming her.

  Because she knew it was over.

  Hell, I knew it was over.

  …but I didn’t want to believe it.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said, and started back down the stairs.

  “Why does he even want to see you?! And, like, right away?!”

  I left the staircase and hit the ground floor running. “I don’t know – but don’t worry about me.”

  “You know that’s impossible!” she yelled.

  “Then don’t worry so much!” I called as I raced out the door to the parking lot.

  24

  I turned Anh’s last questions over in my head as I raced home.

  Why does he even want to see me?

  And why right away?

  For the life of me, I didn’t know.

  Did he have some important piece of information about Connor that he needed to tell me, away from prying ears?

  Was there some new horrible fallout over the photos?

  Was… was Connor going to be there at my apartment?

  The thought of that made my panicked heart skip a couple of beats.

  Ultimately, I had no idea what I was walking into when I parked my car in the garage and hustled up to my apartment.

  I was several minutes early – which, if you know anything about getting from Santa Monica to Hollywood at 3PM on a Friday afternoon, you will recognize is a minor miracle.

  I paced back and forth in my apartment, flapping my hands, trying to stay calm and failing miserably.

  Then the intercom beeped.

  I clicked on the button. “Yes?”

  “We’re here,” Sebastian’s voice barked through the static.

  We’re here.

  As in, more than one person.

  OH MY GOD.

  “S-second apartment on the left,” I stuttered and then pressed the ‘Open’ button.

  Outside in the hall, I could hear the sound of the gate buzzing and rattling open.

  As my heart raced at 200 beats a minute, I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror off the main room and smoothed down my hair and business suit. I looked pretty good – but not good enough to win back the man of my dreams. And my face looked like I was anticipating a firing squad.

  There was a knock at the door. My heart stopped completely.

  I steeled myself for seeing Connor.

  What would I say?

  I wanted to yell at him, to scream at him, to cry, to fling myself into his arms, to kiss him madly –

  I opened the door, expecting Connor and Sebastian and Johnny – and instead finding Sebastian in a tux, Javier in his customary black shirt and pants, and a woman I had never seen before in my life.

  “We’re here!” Sebastian announced theatrically, his arms outspread in a grandiose ta-daaa!

  25

  I stood there in shock, not quite computing why Connor wasn’t among them.

  “Close your mouth, Lily, you look like a fish at a surprise party,” Sebastian instructed.

  I closed my mouth but continued to stand there, one hand on the doorknob, still as a stone statue.

  Javier gave me a shy smile. “Hi, Lily.”

  “H-hi, Javier,” I managed.

  “Are you going to let us in?” Sebastian asked, fists on hips. “I’m starting to sweat out here in the heat, and I do not sweat in $5000 tuxedos.”

  “Come in,” I said, still in shock, and stepped to the side.

  Sebastian brushed past me into the living room and looked around disapprovingly. “So this is how the other half lives.”

  “Hey!” I snapped, back to my old self. Or close to it, anyway.

  Javier walked past me, followed by the woman in a grey tank-top, ripped jeans, and combat boots. She had black hair with purple streaks, multiple piercings in each ear, a tiny diamond in her nose, and a lip ring. Both she and Javier were wheeling small luggage cases. The woman was also lugging around a bulky box that looked like a fisherman’s tackle box, and Javier was carrying a fancy black garment bag.

  “You know Javier, of course,” Sebastian said, then gestured to the woman. “This is Abby.”

  “Hi,” the woman said with a What up nod of her head.

  “Hi,” I answered, then looked at Sebastian. “Where’s Johnny?” I asked, when what I really meant was Where’s Connor?

  “Off doing his job, of course.”

  “Well… what are you doing, then?”

  “I thought it was obvious.”

  “No, actually, pretty far from it.”

  “Prince Charming’s holding a massive gala this evening. You’re Cinderella, and you’re going to the ball.”

  My heart leapt up into m
y throat. “What?!”

  “Did I stutter?”

  “No – but – ”

  “Are you not familiar with the popular fairy tale where a poor girl living in a hovel – ”

  “This is not a hovel!” I snapped.

  “Close enough. Poor girl, living in a hovel and dressed in rags – ”

  “These are not rags!” I shouted as I touched the lapel of my jacket. “I paid a lot of money for this – ”

  “Not enough,” Sebastian said snootily.

  “And on your advice, I might add!”

  “Follow this advice, then: get something newer than last season’s cast-offs. And buy some new furniture. And a fresh coat of paint for the walls. Actually, what am I talking about, just move.”

  “This place is fine!”

  “Oh, yes, the tattoo parlor around the corner is delightful. Where were we?”

  “Fairy tales!”

  “Oh, yes – you’re not familiar with – ”

  “Yes, I saw the freakin’ movie when I was five years old!”

  “Well, we’re getting you ready for the ball.”

  “Why?!”

  “You’re going to the charity event tonight, and you’re going to win Connor back. And Javier and Abby are here to help you.”

  I started trembling uncontrollably.

  Javier looked alarmed. “Maybe you should sit down, Lily.”

  I nodded feebly. He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, and I almost collapsed into it.

  “You didn’t tell her?” Javier asked Sebastian accusingly.

  “Because I knew she would do what she’s doing now.”

  “And what am I doing now?” I snapped.

  “I think the kids these days call it ‘punking out.’”

  “Number one, I don’t think ‘the kids these days’ call it that, and number two, I’m just freaking out, that’s all.”

  “But you’re about to tell me why you can’t do it,” Sebastian said, waving his hand like C’mon, let’s hear it.

  “Sebastian,” I sobbed, “he hasn’t called me in two months. He obviously doesn’t want to see me – he doesn’t even want to talk to me! I don’t care how miserable you say he is, he doesn’t even care enough to pick up the phone to call – ”

 

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