No Promises: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Michelle Love

  He dropped silently into the playroom and looked around for the heaviest thing he could find. He picked up a solid silver butt-plug, but even that wasn’t heavy enough to knock someone out, was it? The ridiculousness of the situation almost made him laugh, but then he pressed his ear to the door and waited for his opportunity.

  Noosh gazed at her attacker evenly. The drugs he had given her had worn off quickly which led her to believe that he had never used them before. In fact, he looked nervous now as if now that he had her, he didn’t know quite what he wanted to do.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Who I am doesn’t matter. All you need to know if that I’m going to kill you.”

  Noosh was unfazed. “How startlingly original,” she said, her British accent making the sarcasm even more cutting. “I assume you’re either a fanboy of the late Senator Papps, or you worked for him. Which is it?”

  “I was one of the Senator’s closest security guards.”

  “Huh. I don’t remember you but then again, why would I notice such an insignificant little man? And how long did you do in prison? Let me guess – seven years? And instead of getting out and beginning to build a new life for yourself – you’re seeking revenge. Well, goodness me. You think you’re the first?”

  He looked uncertain for a moment, then drew a knife out. “Listen, bitch, I haven’t got time to waste.”

  Noosh made a face. “Ah, see, I’m just not in the mood to be murdered today. Anyway, good luck getting through this scar tissue.” She opened her robe and pointed to her belly, which was crisscross with silver scars, almost fading. “See, I survived being shot at point-blank range and being stabbed, so if you think I’m going to sit here like a good little girl and take your knife…nah, I don’t think so.”

  Distracted, not just by her scars, but by her beautiful, naked body, her attacker was discombobulated when a second later, Christo burst through the playroom door and tackled him.

  Noosh cheered her husband on as he overwhelmed the attacker and forced him face down on the ground. Noosh scooted off the bed into the playroom and grabbed a set of handcuffs and a crop.

  “Christo.” She waved them at him, and grinning, he cuffed the attacker’s hands behind his back and hauled him into a chair. Noosh tied the knot on her robe tightly and grinned at Christo, who stood back, his relief palpable.

  “Had to show him my tits, love, but I think I distracted him enough.”

  Christo couldn’t help snorting with laughter. Noosh was actually enjoying this? Maybe it wasn’t only this intruder who wanted revenge? He put his hand on her back and realized, that underneath the bravado – she was trembling. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “It’s over now, baby.”

  “How very fucking touching.” The attacker spat at them and Christo, in no mood to put up with any bullshit, cold-cocked him.

  Noosh waited until the man’s head finally came to rest and he opened his eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Dennis.”

  Noosh laughed. “Dennis the Menace.” Dennis looked confused. “Never mind. Look, here’s what’s going to happen now. We’re going to call the police, and if I’m right, you’ll be heading back to jail very, very soon. Of course, we can exaggerate to the police what you did to us, to me and make it so much worse. And why shouldn’t we?”

  Both Christo and Roger looked at her, confused. Noosh’s smile disappeared. “Or you can tell us if any more of your cohorts are planning similar assaults on my family?”

  “Why should I?”

  Noosh walked slowly over to the knife Christo kicked out of Dennis’ reach, and picked it up, careful to hold it between folds of her robe. “Article 35, Dennis, of New York State’s Defense of Justification law. ‘A person may, subject to the provisions of subdivision two, use physical force upon another person when and to the extent he reasonably believes such to be necessary to defend himself or a third person from what he reasonably believes to be the use or imminent use of unlawful physical force by such other person . . .’ You broke in, attacked me then told me outright you were here to kill me.” She moved suddenly, pressing the knife to his neck. Dennis’s eyes widened in terror; Christo watched her carefully, but did not stop her. Noosh’s anger was palpable. “I could kill you right now and never spend a second in jail. I memorized that law the day my daughter was born so I could protect her, whatever that meant.”

  “So, I could kill you and tell the police it was a clear case of self-defense. Do you know how tempting that is to me, Dennis? I spent years thinking your bastard boss would kill me, and god knows he tried. He pressed the muzzle of a gun to my belly and shot me three times. He raped me, threatened me, threatened the man I love, kidnapped my parents and then shot Christo. And then he stabbed me repeatedly because apparently, I hadn’t suffered enough.”

  She pressed the blade harder into Dennis’s skin. “I put five bullets into his head, Dennis. Five. And there’s not one day goes by when I regret it. He was a cancer, a disease, a blight on humanity. I killed him, Dennis, me. This helpless little girl. Except I’m no helpless little girl, Dennis.” She leaned in and got in his face. “I’ve killed…and to protect my family, to protect myself, I’d do it again without thinking.”

  She stood, and went to Christo’s side, giving him a smile. He was looking at her with such admiration and love that she felt like a queen. Christo wrapped his arm around her waist.

  “You got anything to add, baby?” She nuzzled his neck and nibbled his earlobe.

  “Yeah,” sneered Dennis, recovering from the shock of Noosh’s rage. “Man, you are pussy-whipped.”

  Christo tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Fuck, yes, I am. And grateful for it. Because this little boss here is the woman I love more than life itself, and you, douchebag, messed with the wrong woman. Noosh, baby, you wanna go call the police, or should I?”

  “I’ll do it. You keep an eye on this tosser.”

  When they were alone, Christo’s smile faded and he stepped forward towards the prisoner. “You didn’t answer my wife’s question, asshole. Who else is out there? Who else is coming for us?”

  Dennis’s shoulders slumped. “No-one, and that’s the truth. I haven’t heard a thing but most of them are still in jail.”

  “Most of them?”

  “Fields Green got out a few days before me, but he took off to Mexico with his girlfriend and their kids. You can check.”

  Christo studied him. “Were you really going to kill my wife?”

  Dennis nodded. “I was. She killed the Senator. She sent us to jail.”

  “No,” Christo’s voice was rough. “Papps did that when he hired you to do his killing for him, and you did that when you took his money and did what he said. Now you’ll pay the price for that.”

  When the police had come to take Dennis away, the lead detective talked with Noosh and Christo. “Three strikes, so he’s in jail for the rest of his life.” H looked admiringly at them both. “You two are a formidable team.”

  They thanked him and after they were alone again, thankfully, they slumped onto their couch and breathed out. They looked at each other for a moment than started to laugh.

  “What the hell just happened?” Noosh was crying with laughter and Christo grinned, pulling her into his arms.

  “You were the baddest ass on the planet. God, Noosh, that whole speech…I honestly thought you were going to kill him.”

  “Would you have stopped me?”

  Christo shook his head without hesitation. “He would have deserved it.”

  Noosh kissed him. “You are my champion. No, I wasn’t going to kill him, but I needed him to believe I would. I needed to yell at him, to get all that latent anger out. I never got to yell at Destry before I killed him and I think…” She sighed. “I just needed to say my anger and hurt aloud to someone.” She grinned wryly. “Dennis sure picked the wrong target.”

  Christo pressed his lips to hers. “God, if I could love you more than I already do.�
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  “It really is all over now. Thank god.” She leaned her forehead against his. For a few minutes they sat in silence, letting the tension seep from their bodies.

  “I’ll tell you something.”

  Noosh grinned. She knew this tone in his voice. “Oh, yes?”

  “You being the Queen and everything…that was such a turn on.”

  Noosh giggled. “Always thinking with your wiener, Montecito.”

  Christo took her hand and pressed it against his already rock-hard cock. “Not so much with the wiener, please.”

  They both laughed, then Noosh got up, hauling her husband to his feet. “Well, I wouldn’t want to waste that big boy…and you know what? I’m in the mood for some playtime.”

  Christo smiled as he let her lead him to their playroom. “You in charge, baby?”

  “Oh yes, boy.” Roughly, she shoved him onto the bed and grabbed a crop. She stripped off her robe then tugged his pants off. She straddled him. “Grab my butt, serf.”

  Christo grinned and gripped her buttocks, digging his fingers deep into her flesh.

  Noosh winced but smiled. “Good. Now…” She reached over to the nightstand and brought out two nipple clamps. “Let’s try these out.”

  Christo groaned as she clamped one of his nipples. “Is that good?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Hmm…I’m almost jealous that you’re enjoying yourself so much.”

  Christo smiled at her. “Would Ma’am allow me to pleasure her?”

  “Ma’am would like that.”

  He flipped her onto her back in one movement and Noosh giggled, breaking character for a moment. “Now,” she said, regaining her composure. “Fuck me hard, and make it hurt really, really good…”

  Christo lowered his head to her breast and bit down hard on her nipple, making her moan. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and sat up, bending her back so he could thrust into her deep. Noosh groaned as he fucked her hard. “You like it like this, Ma’am?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Afterward, he tied her up and used the crop on her thighs, her belly, even cracking it against her tender pussy until she came over and over, relinquishing her Dom to him. He took her again, bending her over the window ledge of their bedroom, fucking her perfect ass until she begged him to let her rest.

  It was almost midnight when they finally lay on the cold stone floor of their kitchen, having fucked each other in every room in the house. Noosh sighed happily and rolled onto her side, as Christo hooked his arm around her. She snuggled into his warm body. “Montecito, you have the stamina of a twenty-year-old.”

  “I have the motivation of the hottest badass in New York.”

  Noosh pretended to sulk. “Earlier, I was the hottest badass on the planet.”

  Christo chuckled. “I meant, you were the hottest badass in the galaxy, NewYorkiusOuterSpacious.”

  “Nice save.” Noosh laughed and kiss his neck. “Baby…I was thinking. We didn’t finish our conversation about having more kids. I will admit now…I’d love another one.”

  Christo looked down at her. “You would? Good, because I’ve been thinking the same thing for a few months now, but I didn’t want to, you know, tell you what to do with your body.”

  “Unless we’re in the playroom.”

  “Unless then.” He smiled, and traced a finger over the small tattoo on her lower abdomen. The dragonfly which matched the one on his shoulder. They’d had them done to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary two years ago.

  Noosh gazed at him. “It’s breakfast time in London. Let’s call Indi and tell her she might have a sibling soon.”

  Christo pressed his lips against his wife’s. “you have given me everything, Noosh Taylor.”

  “Noosh Montecito,” she said with a grin, “And right back at you, baby. Now, let’s go call our daughter.

  Eleven months later, Theodore ‘Teddy’ Montecito was born, and as his adoring parents introduced him to his older sister, they knew, at last, their family was safe and that their future, at last, was one purely of love, and hope, and sex, and dreams…

  The End.

  A Better Man: A No Promises Romance

  After enjoying a drunken flirtation at Noosh and Christo’s wedding, Bertie Franklin-Hart and Allison Monroe go back to their old lives in New York, but become fast friends. As their relationship grows more romantic, the old-money Bertie and the ambitious radio host Ally find they have a lot in common, but still find they have to overcome some obstacles in their burgeoning love affair.

  When Bertie’s old flame, Helena, reenters the picture, however, Bertie has to decide whether he wants to realize a life-long fantasy with Helena, or risk a new romance with the fiercely independent Ally, whose background his family might not approve of.

  Can Bertie really give up Helena after waiting for her for so long? Or will he become a new man, a better man, and fight for Ally’s heart, knowing she is the woman he is falling in love with?

  Italy…

  Bertie Franklin-Hart watched his best friend marry the girl of his dreams and felt every emotion. Christo, his life-long friend, had found his true love, Noosh, and together they had been through so much. They deserved their happy ever after.

  It was with only a little tinge of envy that he waved them off on honeymoon, along with all their friends and family. The party went on for a few more hours, though when it got past midnight, people started to drift away.

  Bertie scored himself a bottle of Christo’s best scotch and went to find someone interesting to talk to. Outside, at a far corner of the garden, he caught a whiff of pot coming from behind a small stone wall. Peering over, he saw Ally Monroe, her shoes kicked off, smoking a joint.

  She grinned when she saw him. “Bertram! How dandy to see you. Come, pull up some grass.”

  Bertie grinned as he settled down on the ground. “You’re wasted.”

  “And proud of it. Here.” She handed him the joint and Bertie took a long toke. “Christo scored me some from a contact he has over here.”

  Bertie handed her the joint back and offered her the bottle of scotch. “He’s a good boy.”

  “That he is.” Ally took a swig from the bottle and grimaced. “I don’t even like scotch.”

  Bertie laughed. Ally and he had always gotten along – both having the same wicked sense of humor, fun and filthy, and they had flirted casually every time they had been together – which was often as Noosh and Christo had brought everyone together.

  If he was honest, Ally wasn’t even his type when it came to dating. She was taller than him by an inch, even without the sky-high heels she wore, and her short dark hair was closely cropped to her head. Handsome rather than beautiful, she had cheekbones to die for and a full mouth that was just a little too wide for her features. Sexy, yes, but the thing that drew Bertie to her was her wit and vivacity, her unapologetic way of knowing what she wanted and how to get it. That, he thought, was sexier than any picture-perfect face.

  Ally was studying him, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Bertram Franklin-Hart, if you think you’re going to get lucky with this girl tonight – think again.”

  Bertie chuckled. “Darn it, you caught me.”

  Ally sat up, unsteadily. “I’m too much woman for you, Bertie.” She hiccupped loudly and Bertie reached over to take the joint from her.

  “Ally, I couldn’t agree more. Out of interest…are you seeing anyone?”

  Ally took a deep breath in, trying to recall through a marijuana fog. “A couple, nothing series or exclusive. Truthfully, although this...” She waved her hand around the gardens, lit up by thousands of tiny fairy lights, and sound-tracked by the sounds of waves crashing on the rocks below the cliff. “This is all very romantic. Fairytale stuff and I couldn’t be happier for Noosh and Christo. It’s just not me. Marriage is something I’ve never aspired to.”

  Bertie nodded. “I hear you.”

  “What about you? Still pining over Helena Hootentoot?�
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  Bertie smirked. “DeVito, and not so much these days. She’s seeing a painter from Romania.”

  “Wooh-mania, in Helena’s case,” Ally said wickedly. “I interviewed her once; she did not like me.”

  “I remember. Do you have to be so vewy wude, Miss Munwoe?” Bertie was grinning widely and Ally cackled.

  “What’s painter’s name?”

  “Rolly Lungu.”

  Ally hooted. “No. No. Wowwy Wungu?”

  “He’s wuvwy.”

  They both got the giggles hard then. “We are the worst.” Ally pinched the end of the joint together and sighed. “That’s good stuff, but I don’t want to be still stoned when I get to the airport. I’m not in the mood for a rubber-clad finger up my ass.”

  “Lovely image, thank you. Look, let’s have drinks and rip people to shreds for no other reason than our own amusement when we get back to New York.”

  “Give me your phone.” Ally took his phone and put her number into his contacts. “Always available for random bitching and moaning about Hewana.”

  “Awwy, that’s unpweasant.”

  “I’m sowwy.”

  Bertie hauled her to her feet and they hugged. “You’re wight.”

  “What?”

  Bertie grinned at her. “We are the worst.

  Manhattan…

  Ally sat in her recording studio going through her notes, and grinning to herself. Last night, she and Bertie had talked on the phone for hours – since returning from Italy a month ago, it had become a routine, both of them workaholics during the day, they would each settle in their respective apartments, drink in hand and talk on the phone.

  Bertie would begin each call with a “Hey, buddy” which Ally found adorable. She would shoot back with “Hey, loser” which always made him laugh.