The TROUBLE with BILLIONAIRES: Book 3

by Kristina Blake

  “But that,” I said quietly, “would make our relationship public.”

  “It already is, isn’t it?” Mellissa asked.

  Rawn shrugged, but he didn’t really meet my eye.

  It really depended on how you defined public. The CEO knew about us and seemed to have no problem with us working together as long as we kept our hands to ourselves during company hours. Most of the people we worked with—mostly Rawn’s underlings—knew about us. His pilot and flight steward knew, as did the waiters at our favorite Italian restaurant.

  But Rawn had yet to introduce me to his parents. Or any friends, other than Conrad and Mellissa. And my parents knew about him, but they hadn’t met him yet, either.

  That didn’t seem all that public to me.

  “Do you really think that would make a difference?” Rawn asked Conrad.

  “I don’t see where it would make anything worse. We could talk to the CEO first, give her a heads up, and find out if there’s any additional steps we need to take to protect Cepheus from the press. And I could hand pick the reporters and their publications. We would control everything.”

  “And you really think,” Mellissa asked, “that this would put enough pressure on this guy to make him back off?”

  “It would, at the very least, make him think twice about releasing that blueprint.”

  “It’s our only option,” Rawn said softly.

  “What about the email?” I asked. “Couldn’t we try to contact him through that, try to convince him to back off?”

  “We could try,” Conrad said. “But there’s no guarantee that it’s even good anymore.”

  I got up and walked to Rawn’s computer, gesturing for him to log in when I saw that it was locked. He hesitated, but not long. He knew when I was determined to do something, there was little he could do to talk me out of it.

  “What was the email?”

  “Sundial364,” Mellissa said. “But Peggy couldn’t remember if it was yahoo or Gmail.”

  I glanced at her, something about that combination of words and numbers bothering me. But then…it didn’t really matter right now, did it?

  “We’ll try both.”

  I typed in the email addresses and writing:

  Dear Sir,

  Every good businessman knows that you can’t get anywhere without good negotiation skills. I am writing this in hopes of convincing you to enter into negotiations with me. I understand that the blueprints you have could be potentially life altering for myself, my father, and Cepheus. I don’t believe you want to hurt Cepheus, but that your goal is to ruin me. While I don’t understand why this is, I would like to counter your ultimatum with one of my own. If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow evening, Conrad Goldstein will release a story to the press outlining your role in the kidnapping of Madison Miller and we will go to the police with all the information Peggy Duprey offered to Mellissa Anderson during their visit this afternoon.

  “Should I just sign it with your name?” I asked Rawn, slipping out of the way so that he could read the note.

  He looked up at Conrad and gestured for him to look at it, too. Conrad smiled after he’d read it through. “Perfect,” he said.

  “It’ll be interesting to see if he responds,” Rawn said, as he wrote his own name and clicked send.

  They didn’t have to wait long.

  You have a lot of balls trying to negotiate with me. If I released this blueprint to the press, you wouldn’t be able to get a job at a Wal-Mart. I don’t think you really want to push your luck with me…especially since your father’s reputation is on the line right next to yours.

  But you’re right, a good businessman knows how to negotiate. So how about this: you back off of your threat and I promise I won’t hurt anyone else you love. As we both know, I’m capable of touching everyone close to you, especially Miss Madison.

  I’ll even give you an extra five days to make up your mind. But I do expect your resignation by Christmas Eve.

  There was no signature.

  “What now?”

  No one had anything to say.

  Chapter 7

  Annie

  I stood in the middle of the guest bedroom with every stitch of clothing I brought with me to Los Angeles, trying to decide if any of it was appropriate to a big charity gala. I had a little black dress—I packed it with the thought that we might go out to dinner at some point—but that was the closest thing I had to fancy. And I didn’t think it would work.

  Why didn’t I think of this sooner? I could have run to a store and bought something more appropriate. But I was so involved in hanging out with Logan at the studio that these things never crossed my mind. Besides, where would I have gotten the money to buy something that could be worn to this kind of event? Just because I was living the movie star life with Logan right now didn’t mean I could afford it.

  I was just going to have to tell him I couldn’t go with him.

  And that hurt. I had been looking forward to this since he mentioned it, dreaming of the red carpet, of dancing in Logan’s arms, of just being at Logan’s side in his world. It was a fantasy I had harbored for a long time, and it was about to come true.

  It was exactly the way my life went, that something as simple as the wrong outfit choice could ruin my chances of experiencing a once in a lifetime event.

  I sigh, pulling my bathrobe tighter around me as I approached the door. Before I could open it, however, there was a knock on the other side.

  I pulled it open, and Logan stood there, a soft smile widening as his eyes fell on me.

  “This just arrived for you,” he said, holding up a rather large, but simple, white box.

  “For me?”

  Logan pushed past me, taking the box to the bed and setting it in the only bare spot—just below the lump of pillows—before turning.

  “I thought you might need something to wear to this thing tonight. A friend in the costume department at the studio arranged for it.”

  Relief washed through me so quickly that my knees went weak. I smiled at Logan, not sure what to say. He studied me for a second and then cleared his throat, straightening his back, as though he had just realized where we were standing.

  “I should let you get dressed. The car will be here in forty-five minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  He paused at the door, his back to me. “Thank you for doing this.”

  No, thank you…

  That’s what I wanted to say, but he was out the door before I could.

  I tore open the box like a kid on Christmas morning. Under layers and layers of tissue was the most exquisite red dress I had ever seen. I pulled it out and held it up, amazed at the curves and angles of the expensive garment. I had seen dresses like this on television and in magazines often enough to recognize, if not the specific designer, the fact that it was made by a well-known and well-respected fashion designer.

  As if that wasn’t enough, also in the box was a pair of red pumps and a small jewelry box. I was almost afraid to touch. I left them where they were and went to stand before the full length mirror. I stripped out of my robe and slid the dress over my head. It was a perfect fit, as I had known it would be. I don’t know how he knew my size…but…wow!

  The dress was cut low both in the front and the back, a deliciously heart-shaped bodice cupping my breasts just perfectly to make them look fuller and perkier than they really were. The high waist took emphasis away from my slightly boyish curves, but made my hips look wider than they really were. The full skirt flowed like feathers over my legs, a long, seductive split hidden until I moved. There were jewels in the band around the waist and along the top of the bodice. I was pretty sure they were real and that made me nervous, afraid to even touch them. I stared at myself, suddenly wishing Madison was here to tell me I looked as beautiful as I felt.

  Suddenly the messy, wildness of my hair seemed inappropriate to this amazing dress. I rushed into the bathroom and used every bobby pin I could find to put it up
into my version of a French twist. The fine curls that fell down around my face despite my best efforts gave the style a sophisticated look that was so totally not me. With a touch of red lipstick, I felt like Grace Kelly.

  I slid the shoes onto my feet and then sat perched on the edge of the bed, afraid of wrinkling the silky material of the dress. I held the jewelry box in my hands for a long minute, feeling more like Cinderella now than poor, doomed Grace. The whole thing seemed so surreal all of a sudden. I was afraid that if someone pinched me, I would wake up back at my tiny apartment where I’d passed out on the couch while watching a cheesy horror movie while eating too much junk food.

  Slowly, I lifted the lid of the box and gasped.

  Rubies winked back at me, surrounded by the most delicate diamonds. There were earrings, the rubies a teardrop shape that would dangle from my ears like tears of joy. The necklace was a simple affair, just a larger ruby with more diamonds hanging from a thin gold chain. So delicate…I was afraid to touch it.

  I don’t know how long I sat there, but it must have been a while. Logan tapped on the door again, letting himself in when I didn’t answer.

  “They’d probably look better on you than in that box.”

  I looked up, my eyes filled with tears. “I can’t wear these.”

  “Why not?”

  I closed the box and set it carefully back in the dress box. “This isn’t me. I’m not this glamorous. I’m just a college student, the girl that sits around her apartment every night in sweat pants, a frozen dinner in the microwave. This…” I gestured at the dress, the jewelry box. “This belongs to someone like Rachel Sherman.”

  “Do you really think that this is who I am?” Logan gestured at the tuxedo he was wearing. “I would much prefer to wear jeans and spend my evening making some complicated meal downstairs in the kitchen.”

  I looked up at him, admiring the cut of his suit. There was definitely a difference in seeing him in a tuxedo in pictures and seeing it in person. There was a certain eroticism to the way the jacket accentuated the broadness of his shoulders, the slenderness of his hips. But there was also something to say about Logan in jeans and a t-shirt…or without the shirt.

  He came closer, taking the jewelry box and snapping it open. He deftly removed the necklace and moved close to me, so close that his cologne seemed to entrap me in a cloud of dirty thoughts. His fingers were gentle, almost too gentle, as he carefully fastened the necklace around my neck.

  “Beautiful,” he sighed as he stepped back and admired his work.

  I shook my head, as I pressed my hand to the cool jewel.

  Logan took my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. “You are so much more than you give yourself credit for, Annie.”

  I blushed. The way he was looking at me in that moment, it felt like he truly saw me, and that was a new sensation. I wasn’t sure that anyone had ever really seen me before. Not even Madison. Everyone saw the façade I put out into the world, the nonchalant attitude that pretended that nothing could hurt me. There were cracks that Madison saw, but I wasn’t sure that even she saw the big picture, the real parts of me that I never shared with anyone, the parts that wanted to be Cinderella, that wanted to be beautiful and valued. But when Logan looked at me like that, when he said things like that, it made me think that maybe he did see me.

  He held out his hand and I took it, climbing to my feet and moving around to the mirror to see the total package. The necklace sparkled in the dim light, like burning fire. Logan came up behind me and handed me the earrings. Once they were dangling from my ears, I no longer looked like myself.

  “Beautiful,” Logan said again.

  That time…I believed it.

  ***

  Mellissa

  “I thought you were just going to talk to one or two reporters.”

  Conrad shrugged as he leaned over my shoulder and read what I had written. “The press release is to satisfy those reporters who pick up the story after its initial appearance.”

  “Do you think it will be picked up by other publications?”

  “Yes. It’s a pretty hot story.”

  I nodded, thinking about Madison. She seemed a little shaken last night when we told her what Peggy had said about her kidnapping. She had thought from the beginning that I was the intended victim, and I think that helped her deal with the trauma of it all. But now that we knew she was the target all along, I think it chipped away at her sense of security.

  And now we were about to force her to go public with the whole ordeal.

  “Do you think this is a good idea? What about the impact it’ll have on Madison?”

  Conrad stepped back after making a few, minor adjustments to my writing. “Madison is strong.”

  “Yeah, but even a strong person can only take so much.”

  Conrad glanced at me, a hard edge to his perfect green eyes. “Is that a general statement, or do you know something I should be aware of?”

  I shrugged. “I’m just worried that Madison is already struggling with the aftermath of what happened to her. To make her relive the whole thing in the press…it seems kind of cruel.”

  “But if it saves Rawn—”

  “I know. I just hate to see anyone else get hurt.”

  “We aren’t the ones doing the hurting, Mellissa,” Conrad said, stepping around the desk and pacing a little across his wide office. “It’s this guy who’s trying to hurt Rawn.”

  “I know.”

  “I just wish I understood what the end game was here.”

  I watched him, well aware of how much this haunted him. He tossed and turned in bed all night, unable to sleep as he struggled to think of a better way to help Rawn. But there didn’t seem to be another way. Until we knew who, exactly, we were dealing with, there was nothing more any of us could do.

  It was that fact that was killing each of us, a little at a time.

  “I should call Annie.”

  Conrad glanced at me. “Why?”

  “I doubt Madison’s told her what’s going on. And Madison is going to need her when this story hits the papers.”

  Conrad considered that for a moment. “Yeah. Everything’s cooled down around that ill-fated photoshoot. I don’t think there’s any reason for her to hang out with Logan anymore. Especially now that we know he wasn’t the intended victim.”

  “I’ll call her in the morning.”

  He nodded, moving back into a slow, wide circle, dragging his fingers through his hair as he paced. I stood, intent on going to him, but the sudden movement made my head spin and the nausea that had, thus far, been under control, surge. It took every bit of willpower I had not to rush to the bathroom and void myself of the light lunch I had eaten hours ago.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, but Conrad didn’t see it. His cellphone rang at almost the same second.

  I slowly sat back down as I listened to him greet someone politely, then listen intently to whatever that person had to say to him. The tightness that had been a constant in his shoulders, in the lines on his face, suddenly became steel.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  A moment later, he turned and studied my face.

  “That was Christy,” he said, naming the nurse who once cared for my grandmother who now was a live-in caregiver for Aurora. “She thinks someone’s been following she and Aurora.”

  “What?”

  He half nodded. “She said she’s spotted the same person walking behind them three days in a row on their trips to the park. And she said there was a threatening letter shoved through the mail slot on Aurora’s door a short while ago. Someone threatening to go to the press with Aurora’s medical condition.”

  Nausea rushed through my belly again. It never stops.

  “I have to go check it out.”

  I nodded. “Of course. Just…don’t forget I’m making us dinner tonight.”

  “I’ll be home by seven.”

  He came around the desk and kissed my cheek lightly.
“When all this is over…”

  I nodded. “Go.”

  The second he was gone, I rushed into his private bathroom and voided my stomach. As I sat there, my cheek pressed to the cool porcelain, I began to wonder if I was going to survive all of this.

  For the first time, my life in witness protection seemed so much simpler than life in the real world.

  ***

  Annie

  The red carpet was so different than the controlled chaos that had existed outside of Madison’s launch party for the Alessa 3D X100. There were people and cameras everywhere, voices calling out questions so quickly and so overlapped, that I wouldn’t have known who to answer or which questions were the most important. Not that I was speaking at all. Logan had warned me…at least, he tried. I was to just smile and stay close to him.

  That last wasn’t a problem. Logan slid his arm around my waist the moment we were out of the car, and he didn’t let go, not even when the photographers called for pictures of him alone. He held me close and whispered words of encouragement into my ear every few moments. I’m not sure I could have gotten through the craziness if he had abandoned me.

  It took more than a half hour to walk ten yards, but we finally slipped inside the hotel where the gala was taking place. The thin, cashmere shawl that was another surprise hidden in the bottom of the dress box suddenly disappeared from my shoulders. Tuxedoed gentlemen spoke in hushed tones, directing us to the appropriate ballroom. Once we walked inside…what a sight that room was! It was like stepping back in time to a place before the internet, cellphones, and color television. There were chandeliers with golden crystals, silk clothes on the walls, and tables dotting the sides of the room with beautiful centerpieces that just added to the sense of old sophistication. A proper dance floor was unoccupied in the center of the room while a four piece string orchestra played quietly off to one side of the narrow stage.

  But it wasn’t just the décor that was impressive. The number of movie stars and politicians and business moguls who streamed into the room in just the few minutes we stood inside, trying to catch our breath, was more than striking. It took a conscious effort for me to keep my mouth closed and my eyes in my head.