The Stubborn Billionaire (a Muse novel)

by Lexxie Couper

  When he turned back, she was gone.

  Biting back a growl, he grabbed his tuxedo trousers from the floor and shoved his legs into them. Damn it, this wasn’t how he’d planned the evening to end.

  Plan? What plan? That’s the problem.

  But was it a problem? For the first time in his life, he was living entirely in the moment, free-wheeling. Not following any laid-out strategy. And it felt good. Really good.

  He hurried into the foyer, zipping his fly as he went. “Sienna, are you—?”

  She stopped him with a kiss, snaking her arms around his shoulders, pressing her lush body to his.

  This. Forever. This…

  Stepping out of his embrace before he could tighten his arms around her waist, she shook her head. Her fingers lingered on his chest, a burning touch he never wanted to end. “I didn’t want to fall for you, James Dyson. But I have, damn it.”

  He stared at her, his chest constricting in a crushing vice. “I know the feeling.”

  Her eyebrows knitted. “What happens next with us? Really?”

  “Breakfast.” He brushed the back of his knuckles over her jaw. “Good conversation, good company, and good food.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we take it a day at a time. How does that sound? You have a painting of me to do, remember?”

  A shaky laugh fell from her. “I’d forgotten.”

  James grinned, a tight warmth curling through him. When had she stopped thinking of him just as a subject of her next work? “Are you sure you don’t want it to be a nude?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you want everyone in Australia to see you in your birthday suit?”

  He laughed. “Good point. I think we’ll save the nude stuff for your preliminary sketches.”

  A soft chime filled the foyer before she could respond. The gleam in her eyes, however, hinted it would have been a zinger. Christ, he loved her mind. Her wit. As much as he—

  The chime sounded in the foyer again. Pulse pounding harder than it should, he walked to the door and pressed the intercom button connecting him to the front gate. “Yes?”

  “Your driver, Mr. Dyson.”

  Sienna crossed her arms over her breasts, cocking an eyebrow. “Driver?”

  He threw her a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want you taking a taxi or Uber without your knickers.” He hit the intercom button again. “Give me five.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Her lips twisted. She drummed her fingers on her arm. “I want to be angry with you.”

  He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “But you can’t?”

  “No.”

  James beamed. “All part of my plan.”

  She stiffened. Visible tension pulled at the edges of her eyes. “Plan?”

  “I didn’t…” His gut dropped. “That’s not…”

  Turning away from him a little, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you meant. I guess I’m still suspicious.”

  “About me?”

  “About you.”

  A thick lump made itself at home in his throat. He swallowed, but the lump wouldn’t budge. Prickling heat swept over his scalp. He stared at her. She had every damn right to be suspicious. And yet…she never had to know what he’d planned for her. He wasn’t carrying it out now. The thought of doing so, of following through, made his gut churn. He had no clue what was next for them, but hurting her wasn’t part of it. Long, lazy days and nights making love, yes. Relaxed days walking the beach, definitely. Afternoons sailing the harbor, absolutely. But no longer revenge. That wasn’t an option anymore.

  “There’s nothing to be suspicious about.” He pushed himself from the doorjamb and crossed to where she stood. “Fate brought us together. I’m not going to fight it anymore.”

  Wary tension continued to swim in her eyes. Christ, what could he do to make it go away? Kiss her? He wanted to hear her laughter again. See her smile.

  He stepped closer, craving the sensation of her heat, and lowered his head to hers. “Sienna…”

  She ducked backward before his lips could brush hers. “Breakfast. Bring juice. Zach drank all ours.”

  And with a look he couldn’t decipher, she opened the door, stepped over the threshold, and pulled the door closed behind her.

  He stared hard at the door. Dragged in a long breath. Alone in his multi-million-dollar home, he’d never felt so empty or poor in his life.

  …

  The driver didn’t speak to her for the entire trip. Nor did he accept any money when she tried to offer it to him on arrival at her warehouse. Instead, he gave her his card and told her Mr. Dyson had offered his services whenever she needed them.

  Once again, she wanted to be angry with James. Once again, she couldn’t.

  She walked away from the luxury limo, Carrie’s stilettos dangling from her fingers, her heart a crazy tattoo in her chest. Warmth fluttered in her stomach.

  When was the last time she’d been so…so…happy?

  Slipping her key into the lock, she sighed. “Not for a long, long—”

  The door swung open, Zach smirking at her from the other side of the threshold. “And what time do you call this then?”

  With a giggle, she poked her tongue out at him. “A respectable time, considering I’m twenty-six and just went out with Australia’s most eligible bachelor.”

  Zach’s smirk grew wider. “Hey, I saw the way he looked at you. I reckon eligible bachelor isn’t going to be the right term for James Dyson very soon.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She tossed her shoes at him. “Whatever.”

  He caught them with a laugh. “By the way, you had a visitor while you were out.”

  “Who? Carrie?”

  Zach shook his head. “Thomas St. Clair.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, he wanted to see more of your work. I showed him that charcoal drawing you did the other morning. The one with the two people making out. He offered to buy it.”

  She blinked. “I don’t know if you’re kidding or not.”

  Hurt filled his face. “Hey, I promised I wouldn’t be a jerk anymore, remember? As long as you don’t treat me like a kid. We’re not doing complicated anymore, sis.”

  Holding up her hand, she nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She frowned, heading into to the living area. “So St. Clair really wanted to buy the drawing? Did he say how much?”

  “Not until the woman who was with him offered to buy it for a grand.”

  “Woman? What woman?” Her frown deepened, a prickling heat crawling up her spine. “Wait, did you say a thousand dollars?”

  He grinned. “Yep. She offered a thousand, so he said he’d buy it for fifteen hundred. Then she said two thousand.”

  Two thousand…

  “Holy crap.” She dropped into an armchair, her blood pounding in her ears. Two thousand? Thomas St. Clair wanted to pay two thousand dollars for one of her sketches.

  “I told them I couldn’t sell them anything until I spoke to you.” Zach perched on the arm of the sofa. “But hinted there was already a potential buyer interested and they had offered to pay five hundred more.”

  Sienna gaped at him. “You what?”

  “So St. Clair said he’d pay two thousand six hundred and dedicate his next book to you.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “And then the woman said she would fuck St. Clair if he gave her the drawing. He said no deal. He wanted to keep it for himself.” Zach’s grin stretched wider. “I think I like this idea of being your manager.”

  A dry laugh burst from her. “My what?”

  He blew on his nails and rubbed them on his chest. “Manager. You create, I sell. For eight percent commission, of course.”

  “Oh, of course.” She rolled her eyes and slumped back in the armchair. Holy hell, what was going on? Had she woken up in her greatest fantasy? Amazing sex with James Dyson, famous people wanting to own her work, a brother who enjoyed being her brother… How h
ad this happened?

  “Anyways.” Zach pushed himself from the sofa. “Thomas St. Clair is going to come around tomorrow afternoon to talk to you about the drawing.” He stopped in front of her with a melodramatic haughty look. “So it’s bedtime for you, young lady. I don’t want you tired and grumpy and scaring them off.”

  Head spinning, she frowned up at him. “Them?”

  “Yeah, the woman, Lindsey something-or-other, is coming with him.”

  An icy chill crawled up the back of her neck and over her scalp. “Lindsey something-or-other?”

  Zach nodded, hooking his fingers under her arm as he pulled her up from the chair. “Hot chick, blond hair. Big—” He stopped and shrugged. “Sorry. Old habits. If the diamonds around her neck and in her ears are anything to go by, she’s rich. Real rich. Haven’t seen bling like that since Mum was alive.”

  The throwaway comment pulled at Sienna’s stunned confusion. Shoving aside the fact James’s sister had been in her home with Thomas St. Clair, she gave Zach a long stare. Fifteen years of surreal chaos had done a number on him. No stability or normalcy. She wanted to help him find himself, who he was without their father’s money and infamy. Was letting James Dyson and everything that came with him into her life a good thing for Zach?

  “How do you feel about James coming for breakfast tomorrow? Are you okay with that?”

  Zach frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be? To be honest, I didn’t expect you home tonight. I thought you’d spend it at his house.”

  Warm butterflies swirled in her stomach. “I’m not going to abandon you over night for a guy, Zach. No matter who that guy is.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get mushy on me, sis.”

  She rolled her eyes back at him. “Sorry. So breakfast with him tomorrow is okay?”

  With a laugh, Zach dropped into a crouch before her. “Sis, breakfast with James Dyson is cool. Just don’t go sucking face with him in front of me, okay? When you want to do that, I’ll head over to Ricco’s place. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Warmth spread over her cheek. “Although I can’t promise anything on the location of our sucking—”

  Zach shut her up with a laugh and a cushion to the face.

  She fell back into the sofa, grinning. “Get your arse to bed, boyo. It’s late.”

  He nodded, rising to his feet. “Okay. See you in the morning.”

  “You, too, Zach.”

  “Oh, by the way, sis.” Mischief danced in his eyes. “You’ve got a hickey.” He touched the side of his neck, just under his left ear. “Right there.”

  She slapped her hand to her neck. What the—

  He laughed. “Busted.”

  …

  How could a home filled with such luxury be so empty?

  After Sienna left, James made his way to his bathroom—granite and marble opulence he’d never been ashamed of until that point in time—and proceeded to take a long, cold shower.

  The attempt to deal with the tension in his body with his hand failed. Woefully. Even as his release left his body and washed down the drain, his heart and soul still ached for her.

  Killing the water, he stepped from the shower and, water dripping from his face and body, stared at his reflection in the mirror.

  His life, his goals, and his plans turned upside down in such a short space of time. Surprisingly, he was okay with that.

  What did it mean? Was he in love with Sienna? It seemed like it. When she smiled, he smiled. When she looked at him, a contented warmth filled him. He’d never experienced anything like it before she’d entered his life.

  How was it possible to fall in love with the very person he’d sworn to destroy? And to do so so quickly? Did that make him weak?

  The answers failed him. Another occurrence that would have, until now, worried him. The Dysons weren’t weak.

  But they weren’t idiots, and denying his life had change for the better since getting to know Sienna would be the actions of an idiot.

  So when was he going to tell her his original intentions for her? He had to. At some point he’d need to confess.

  His gut churned. How could he possibly explain the actions he’d instigated six months ago without losing her? Actions involving his subtle influence on major art buyers in Australia to avoid her work so she became dependent on Mason Xavier? How would she react to such revelations?

  Staring hard into his eyes, he drew a slow breath.

  She would hate him. Again.

  He didn’t want her hating him. He wanted her wanting him. Liking him.

  Loving him.

  A tight knot twisted in his chest. He turned from the mirror, the torment and wretched guilt in his eyes too much. “What the hell do I tell her?”

  Keeping secrets wasn’t new to him. In business, it was the Dyson way. But this wasn’t business. It was personal.

  His life.

  He grunted, the low sound tearing at the back of his throat. Who would have thought one day he’d separate his life from his work? An inconceivable notion only a short while ago.

  It should have irritated him. Unsettled him. Sienna Roberts had knocked his world off-kilter. Instead, it filled him with a sense of anticipation and excitement he hadn’t experienced since…since…

  He snatched a towel from the rack and knotted it around his waist. Since forever, that’s when. Sienna had awoken in him a taste for life he’d never had before. He couldn’t wait to see where that took them.

  Them. Not him. Them.

  Together. Wherever it takes us, we’ll be together.

  He smiled. He and Sienna. Together. Spending time with her tomorrow, the next day, the next week, hell, the next year. It really couldn’t get any—

  “Shit.” The next day? The first insinuation of Sienna’s gold-digging ways was meant to surface on one of DMC’s online news site the day after tomorrow. “Shit.”

  An icy chill rippled through him. He had so much in play. Six months’ worth of moves and actions planned to the minute detail. Sienna Roberts’s destruction had been his focus for so long, he’d almost forgotten a time when he wasn’t thinking about her.

  “Shit.” Shut it down. He needed to shut it down. All of it. Now.

  Hurrying to the kitchen, he plucked his mobile phone from the Bose dock and tapped out a message for Clarinda Simmonds.

  “Kill everything scheduled and arranged for Sienna Roberts. The situation has changed. J.D.”

  Heart wild, he hit send and returned his mobile to the dock, counting his heartbeats as he willed Clarinda to text back that she understood.

  No text appeared on the screen.

  Shit.

  He shot a look at his watch. 11:53 p.m. Too late to head to her house and deliver the instruction personally. He may be a selfish prick—the old James definitely was, the man focused on revenge—but now…

  He scooped up his mobile and tapped out another message to the woman he’d employed as Mason Xavier’s personal assistant. “Call me immediately when you read this message.”

  Chest tight, he tossed his phone onto the kitchen counter and paced the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck.

  As long as Clarinda shut it down tomorrow morning, Sienna would be oblivious of his intended fate for her. The public humiliation and ridicule, the professional degradation. The ruthless character assassination played out in all forms of media until she became a laughing stock in the country, the punch line in a mocking joke.

  With his plans killed, she’d never know.

  Sometime after breakfast with her, he’d send her a message as Mason Xavier, informing her he’d spoken to Australia’s most influential art dealers about her work, and to expect more than one to contact her soon. He’d always planned to do so, but his original follow-through—their utter and scathing rejection of her—would never occur. He’d spent a lot of time and money over the last few months making certain the movers and shakers of the art world knew of his disdain for Sienna Roberts, but starting tomorrow, he’d rectify that situation.<
br />
  Not only because she stirred in him emotions deeper and more important, more…profound than any other person in his life, but because she was genuinely a talented artist the world needed to discover.

  His would facilitate that global discovery. Would introduce her to the world. Maybe then the cold guilt taking great bites out of him now would eventually fade away.

  “You can fix this.” He stared at the floor, his throat tight, and buried his fingers in his hair. “You—”

  The buzz of an incoming message punched at his nerves.

  He snatched up his phone, his blood roaring in his ears, and read the message.

  “Fuck.”

  “Thomas and I went to Sienna Roberts’s home tonight. She wasn’t there. Care to share your plans for her yet with me? You both seemed very chummy at the gallery. To be honest, I’ve never seen you look so relaxed. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’d fallen for her. But I DO know you better, so what gives? Call me when you get this. I want an explanation. XO”

  He read the message again. And then a third time.

  An explanation. Lindsey wanted an explanation. Did he have one? One she would be satisfied with?

  Head roaring, he tapped out a reply.

  “We were wrong about her. That’s all you’re getting for tonight. I’m going to bed. I will not answer your call or the door, so don’t try. Talk later.”

  He hit send, waited for the delivered tone, and then turned his mobile off.

  He was going to bed. He had a breakfast date tomorrow morning and he wasn’t going to be tired for it. Tomorrow he was convincing Sienna and her half brother he was the perfect man for her. He couldn’t do that if Lindsey kept him up all night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ice cold water splashed his face, jolting him awake.

  “What the hell?” Coughing and spluttering, skin rippling with goose bumps, he scrambled onto his elbows.

  Lindsey grinned down at him, an empty glass in her hand. “That’s what you get for turning your phone off last night.”

  He bit back a growl, flung off the sheet, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Oh my God, James.” She staggered back, slapping her other hand over her eyes. “A little warning would be nice.”