Torn_An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Tristan Vaughan

  Lyla sneered at her hand as if it was covered in slime. "You didn't even know this one's last name."

  "Riley is my guest, my date for the evening. The least you can do is show her some respect," I snapped.

  "Respect?" Lyla sniffed. "She just tried to pass herself off as the countess's daughter."

  "That was your mistake. You're so quick to salivate over anyone with even a hint of a title. You wouldn't know a real person if they punched you in the face."

  "Yes, yes, I get your scrappy little barmaid fantasy, but, honestly, Landon, you know you're held to a higher standard."

  Riley looked from me to my cousin, her hand wrapped so tightly around the base of her champagne flute that I thought it might shatter.

  "I'm sorry," I told her. "My cousin has been under an enormous strain getting all of this together. She's angry with me, and this has nothing to do with you."

  "Yes," Lyla agreed. "You could be any pretty face he picked up. Really, Landon, I should just let this one fleece you. Maybe then you'll learn to spot a gold-digger."

  Riley's hand dropped and curled into a small fist in the folds of her golden dress. A pulse jumped in her throat, but the rest of her face was stony.

  "Lyla," I snapped, "Shut the fuck up." I shuddered in a deep breath as I looked around the room, wondering who might have heard me. My chest tightened as I shot her a hard, direct stare. “Speak to me, or my date, like that again and you will see first hand the type of person I could be.” I cocked my head to the side as I noticed a staff member approaching.

  My cousin arched a perfect eyebrow. "Landon, please. There are people here not used to hearing that language.” Lyla looked around the room but no one had even turned to pay attention to the storm that was circulating around us. “I don't say anything about your other cheap distractions, your friend's bar, your friendships with the manual labor on the estate, but this is too much. You need to focus on what's important. Now."

  "Cheap distraction?" Riley echoed. A blaze of color was splashed across her cheeks. She bared her teeth and prepared to tear into my cousin.

  "Ms. Townsend, I apologize for interrupting, but you are needed in the rotunda," a tightly wound staffer announced.

  Lyla flicked a dismissive wrist at Riley and swept away through the crowd. "Don't forget your responsibilities, Landon. You promised."

  By the time I turned back around, Riley was weaving through the crowd toward the front door. Heads turned in her wake, but she seemed oblivious to the envious and appreciative glances. Her narrow shoulders were stiff, her head high.

  I trailed after her. "Riley, wait. Please."

  She shook her head without turning around. An Oscar-winning actor stepped in her path, but Riley kept going.

  "Landon, we missed you in Tokyo," the actor said with a grin.

  I shook his hand in passing. "We'll catch up."

  He gave a wolfish grin. "I'd chase her, too."

  Riley slipped out the front door, far to the right of the red carpet. I caught her on the first wide landing, a patio in its own right, and turned her to me. The crackling fury in her eyes was a relief. I would have crumbled if I’d seen tears.

  "You lied to me. I've been lied to by everyone, and now I’ve been insulted." Riley wrenched her arm from my grip.

  "Please, Riley. I know this is a lot to take. That's why it felt so good to just be myself last night. You didn't know my last name, you didn't know about this." I gestured over my shoulder to the looming mansion.

  "Wanting to escape your own life is no excuse for lying." Riley crossed her arms and shot nervous glances at the red carpet. "This is really all yours? You're Mr. Michel?"

  My bow tie was suffocating me and I tugged at it. "He's just a persona. A fantasy figure all these people want to tell stories about."

  "Guess we don't travel in the same circles," Riley said. "I still haven't heard of you."

  The laugh dislodged the weight in my chest. "I'm still Landon, the lazy barfly without a job."

  "The sometimes bartender." Riley smiled at a sudden thought. "No wonder all those people were so shocked to see you serving drinks!"

  I took both hands and kissed her knuckles. "Thank god you smiled. Riley, please, I know this is a disaster. I know I lied to you. Can I at least get you a glass of champagne?"

  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, a white-jacketed waiter appeared with two flutes on a silver tray. Riley took one and said 'thank you' through a trembling smile.

  For the moment we were safe in the shadow of a large palm tree. Besides the waiter obviously assigned to me personally, everyone's eyes were on the red carpet. Riley sipped her champagne and took slow, measured breaths. I waited and hoped she wouldn't run.

  It wouldn't be the first time a woman bolted at the first sign of my situation. Despite what my cousin thought about me being plagued with gold-diggers, more often I was deserted by women who couldn't stand the pressure. I understood, so I always let them go. But if Riley left, it would hurt more than normal.

  Before I could wonder at that fact, she blew out a breath and squared her shoulders. "I think you promised me food."

  I could have kissed her. It took a moment to shove that urge aside before I offered her my arm. We slipped back inside before the pack of photographers turned in my direction.

  "Welcome to my home." I stumbled over the words. That anyone lived in such a palatial showcase was unreal. I thought about that every time I stepped over the threshold.

  The architecture and design of the mansion were legendary, and it showed in every small detail. Silk wallpaper, hand-carved woodwork, the Michel crest embedded in the crown molding, every inch soaked in childhood memories of having my hand slapped anytime I reached out to touch something beautiful.

  "Home?" Riley asked, echoing my own thoughts.

  I changed the subject. "There's Andrew's father. It's funny to see him without his dog, Eddie. The shiniest black lab you've ever seen. They named him Eddie, after the famous surfer. Loves the beach. They can't keep him out of the water."

  “The dog, or Andrew’s dad?” Riley asked with a giggle.

  I laughed, just as the mayor of New York approached, his hand held out to shake.

  "Landon, so good to see you," he said.

  "Sir, I'd like you to meet Riley Cullen. She recently left New York for our fine shores," I said.

  Riley paled as the mayor kissed the back of her hand. "Our tragic loss is most obviously your gain."

  "Did you get a call from Jason?" I asked the mayor. "He's the diver I told you about. Best in Michel's Beach. If you want abalones, he's your man."

  We chatted a moment more before the mayor let me go. I turned back to Riley, who shook her head at me.

  "What?" I knew full well my voice took on a different tone when I was schmoozing. It was embarrassing to be caught slipping in and out of a persona I disliked.

  "All of these A-list people, and the only people you seem to want to talk about are locals."

  The softness in her voice stopped me. Instead of standing in awe of the celebrities, she had actually heard what I said. She seemed unimpressed by the extravagantly themed party or the crowd of well-photographed faces. Instead, Riley looked at me. I wanted to stay in the light of those brown eyes all night.

  That was all I could think about even as I was pulled into another conversation, this time with the owners of a world-class vineyard. I chatted politely about my own vines and my last trip to Napa, all while I watched Riley.

  Our waiter whisked away her empty champagne flute. She plucked nervously at her clutch purse, and then subtly checked her cell phone. A small frown pulled at the corners of her mouth.

  "News about your rental car?" I asked when I was free again.

  "No, it's nothing." She scanned the glamorous crowd and then dipped her eyes down to her phone again.

  "Please tell me you didn't call a cab," I said.

  Amusement flickered in her eyes. "Do you even have cabs in Michel's Beach?"
r />   I shrugged. "Not really, although Andrew's been known to give people a lift from time to time."

  Her phone buzzed again and she scrolled through the messages with a scowl. "I'm sorry. It's my ex-boyfriend. He feels the need to keep me updated on his every move. Not that he has any idea where I am or what I'm doing. He never thinks to ask about things like that."

  I didn't like the way his thoughtlessness bothered her. "Another glass of champagne?" I asked.

  The silver tray appeared at my elbow, and I was relieved when Riley turned off her phone and put it away. I handed her the crystal flute and lifted mine to toast her.

  "Thank you for still being here," I said.

  She choked on the first bubbly sip. "I can't imagine you have lots of dates running out on you."

  "Are you kidding?" I asked. "Most normal women see all of this as too much pressure."

  Riley gave me a sideways glance. "Yeah, it's a bit much for a first date."

  My bark of laughter drew a dozen sets of eyes, but I didn't care. "You're right. I must have lost my mind when I asked you. It was our only chance, though, since your friend’s graduation is on Monday."

  I reached for her hand, not knowing how she’d react. She squeezed gently back. It had been a huge risk but now, with my fingers entangled in hers, it was clear there hadn't been any other option. Something about Riley called up involuntarily responses.

  "From a bar to a ballroom is kind of a big leap," she murmured with another glance from the corner of her eyes.

  "There is a ballroom, if that's what you're asking," I said.

  "The real question," Riley said, "is whether or not you had to take dance lessons. I assume that's something the ultra-rich make their children do."

  "I'm better at bar games. There are darts and pool in my study." I imagined secreting her away behind the heavy oak doors. It was hard to breathe in the oppressive crowd of admirers.

  Riley feigned a heavy sigh. "Too bad, because I was promised drinks and dancing by the man that asked me out. If you happen to see him, let him know I'm in the ballroom."

  I tightened my hold on her hand. "You asked for it."

  I felt her hesitation as we reached the large, arched doors of the ballroom. The glossy parquet floor reflected the four chandeliers above and made it look as if we were treading on orbs of light. Music from a small orchestra poured from the balcony above and only a few confident couples swept across the floor.

  The mingling crowd around the outskirts of the room murmured as I swept Riley into my arms and began the dance. She was so light on her feet, so slender and weightless in my arms, that I spun too fast and made myself dizzy. Or maybe it was just the amber glow I caught in her brown eyes as she looked up at me and smiled.

  I tried to remember the last time I had danced, but all I could think about was Riley. Her waist under my hand, the touch of her fingers on my shoulder, the graceful sway of her body within the span of my arms, were intoxicating.

  "Thank you for not running away," I said.

  Riley pulled her eyes from the watching crowd. "Where am I going to go? I'm stranded, remember?"

  I grinned. Despite the guests gathering to see our dance, Riley had not lost her sense of humor. I pulled her closer. "Lucky me. But that doesn't explain why you're still here."

  Her eyes widened. "You might lie about who you are, but I was taught to keep my word."

  "Is that all this is? You stubbornly keeping your word?"

  Riley's lips quirked up at the corners. "Well, that and I'll need to eat at some point tonight. I don't know if you know this, but everything closed down in town. If a stranger's hungry, then this is the only place to be."

  I threw a glance up to the chandeliers and laughed. "I've never been the simple solution to a problem before."

  The murmuring of the crowd grew louder as I spun Riley around and drew her even closer. Her shoulders stiffened self-consciously, but she swallowed hard and tried to ignore it.

  "You call this a simple solution?" she asked. "Or is this actually the simplest your life ever gets?"

  "It's not always like this," I lied, but she caught me with one sharp glance. "All right, I'll admit it. My life looks like this a lot of the time, but it never feels real, even to me. And I wish there was a simple solution."

  "Hiding out at The Sand Dollar makes sense," she conceded.

  Her hand curled around the back of my neck and something loosened deep in my core.

  "The problem,” I said, “is that everyone wishes they had this life, but all I want is to be normal."

  The crowd cheered as the dance came to an end. Riley's brown eyes searched mine. "My grandfather always said the first step in finding a solution was to face the problem."

  "Well, here it is." I spun her out to the side and bowed low to the admiring guests. She teetered for a second and then dropped an awkward curtsy.

  "You're right," she said out of the corner of her mouth. "I'm not sure I would wish for this life."

  "What would you wish for?" I asked.

  "A chance to catch my breath."

  Couples flooded the ballroom floor as the next song began. In the whirling of black tuxedos and brilliant gowns, I pulled Riley to the far end of the room and through a narrow door hidden in the wall paneling. The tight servants' staircase led up to the mezzanine where few guests had yet to wander.

  Riley broke away from me and ranged along the railing. I gave her space, happy just to watch her. The golden dress flowed over her body, accentuating the grace I had felt on the dance floor. She reached self-consciously for the thin straps at her shoulders and made sure they were in place. Now that we were out of the spotlight, the tension wasn’t as taut along her neck, and she rolled her head from side to side to ease it.

  "It's funny. There's another song playing, but I can still hear the one we danced to," I said.

  Riley blinked up at me. "I love that song. It’s called—”

  She stopped suddenly, her attention caught below on someone standing at the far side of the ballroom, fists on her hips. Lyla.

  I pulled Riley away from the railing. A small group of guests appeared at the far end of the mezzanine but before they spotted us, I swept Riley into a small alcove. A curved velveteen settee filled the hidden space, but Riley remained standing.

  "Could you travel anywhere in the world?" she asked.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. "I have a Learjet and a pilot on call."

  She tipped her head and studied me. "But you're not really free to use it, are you?"

  I gave a strangled laugh. "For not having a job, my schedule's pretty full."

  Riley shook her head. "I suppose that's one good thing about my life right now. I don't have any family to hold me in one place. I'm not used to the freedom yet, but I have a feeling I'm going to like it."

  The mixture of sadness and determination in her eyes drew me in like a magnet. I could no longer resist the golden glow of her skin or the bare expanse of her shoulders. A shiver flowed down her arm as I caressed her, but when our lips met there was heat.

  Molten, consuming heat that burned away the orchestra, the hundreds of guests, the whole coastline of California. There was only her hesitant mouth beneath mine. Then she softened, parted her sweet lips, and tasted me with shy sips.

  I struggled to keep from crushing her to me. I stepped forward and circled my arms around her. Our bodies slipped together so easily, fit so perfectly, that I lost awareness of the shallow corner hiding us. I couldn't even feel the floor beneath us, only her mouth pressing against mine. Our tongues gently probing one another.

  It hurt to release her, even for the moment it took to reach the heavy curtain and pull it across the alcove entrance. Then I let my hands press against the curve of her bare back. Riley broke from the kiss, her hands running up my shoulders to tangle in my hair. Currents of electricity crackled where she touched me, and she welcomed the deepening kiss.

  She arched against me with a soft moan, the press of her body wa
nting more. I let one hand glide over the curves below her waist before I reined myself in. Her hand covered mine and pushed me to continue the caress.

  The curtain ripped open, and Riley pulled away from me in surprise.

  Lyla stood before us. Her face still maintained the serene expression she had perfected for social events, but her eyes were jagged green glass. "You're needed downstairs right away, Landon."

  Riley slipped away from me and smoothed down the lace overlay of her dress.

  Lyla said, “Your guests expect to see you —not just flitting around the dance floor, but actually engaging in conversation. There are dignitaries from other countries here, for god's sake. Here to see you. Downstairs. Now."

  She reached to straighten my bow tie but I waved her hand away. "Thank you. Now as my business manager, I'm sure you can tell our guests that I will be down shortly."

  My cousin turned on her sharp heels, swept onto the mezzanine, and called to the waiting guests. There was a roaring in my ears where the sudden fire had exploded into rage. Riley slipped farther from me without meeting my eyes, but I caught her wrist.

  "I'll be right back, I promise," I said, knowing she didn't believe me.

  Chapter Nine

  Riley

  Who was I to keep Landon Michel from his guests? Besides, my equilibrium was still off because of his kiss. I stepped out of the alcove and stood at the railing for a moment, looking down at the dancers on the ballroom floor. His ballroom floor.

  The splendor of his mansion, no castle, was enough to make me forget about his cousin. The woman he called Lyla smiled politely at me, but I felt her snarl. She didn’t want me anywhere near Landon, and I couldn't blame her. I was some random disaster of a woman who had coasted into Michel's Beach in a broken rental car. I had no connections, no talent to recommend me, and, most importantly, I didn't have enough money. I wasn't welcome in their stratosphere and, frankly, the thin air up there made me woozy.

  I told myself that my wooziness had nothing to do with Landon's kiss. It had been so unexpected, so explosive, that I couldn’t form a complete thought about it. The twirling crowd on the dance floor and the guests now lining the mezzanine railing only clarified my racing thoughts into one question. Why me?