MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)

by Bella Grant

  “My doctor is booked for the next two weeks,” Cherise said.

  “I’ll get you in somewhere tomorrow morning, don’t worry.”

  “I want to tell you no, that I can do this on my own, but I really want to see someone. Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to do anything on your own. I’m here for you.”

  Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. “Yeah, but you’re not. In another hour, you’re taking your fiancée out to Valentine’s Day dinner. And I’m going home alone.”

  “What do you want me to do?” he said.

  “Be with me. Try it.”

  He couldn’t. It would never work. He could see no possible outcome other than her hating him forever after she realized he wasn’t the man she needed. He wished she wasn’t so beautiful when she got angry.

  “You don’t want that.”

  “You can’t tell me what I do and don’t want.”

  “I know I can’t. But I know myself. There’s nothing here that’s any good for anyone.”

  “That’s such bullshit, Sterling. You’re a good person. Let yourself love another human as much as you love your dog.”

  Unconsciously, he shook his head no. The idea was like kryptonite.

  She stood up, and he did, too. He couldn’t tell what she was doing, if she was leaving, or… No. Not leaving. She took two steps to him, wrapped her long arms around his neck, and kissed him. She tasted like coffee, delicious. He pressed his lips to hers, their teeth banged together, and their tongues fought for dominance. He kissed her neck, biting her soft, warm skin. He pulled her coat off. She shivered when he ran his tongue around her ear, nibbling on the lobe.

  She pushed him back and the leather couch caught him at the back of the knees. He fell, and Cherise pounced on him, undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and withdrawing his hardness. She descended on it, taking him into her mouth, sucking him deep inside her. He buried his hands in her hair and thrust into her face, savoring her wet hunger. She wrapped a hand around the shaft and teased at him with her tongue. God, she was so good at this. He arched his back, wanting to feel her all around him, wanting to be consumed by her amazing mouth.

  He came hard, bucking his hips and crying out, the sound echoing in the vastness of his office. Spent, he flopped back onto the leather couch, panting. Cherise reached for her coat—was she leaving after that? Sterling took her wrist and pulled her towards him.

  “You have to go. You have dinner plans, remember?”

  “I told you, I’ll drop anything for you.”

  He stood up and kissed her, then gently sat her on the leather couch. He pulled off her sweatshirt, delighted to discover that, underneath it, she wore only a skimpy tank top which barely covered her breasts and flat stomach. He kissed her nipples through the cotton, breathing his hot breath on them and teasing them to taut peaks. He’d never met anyone with breasts as sensitive and responsive as hers. He pulled the neckline of the shirt down, withdrawing her generous tit. He licked it all over, returning now and again to give her nipple special attention. He longed to be able to fuck Cherise properly, something planned as opposed to these unexpected trysts. He’d love to pamper her with toys and play with her whole body.

  He undid her jeans and found she wore plain white cotton panties. He’d seen her in a lot of lace, a lot of black, but these drove him crazy. So innocent, yet he knew the treasures she kept under there.

  He pulled her pants off, leaving her on the leather couch in just her skewed tank top.

  CHERISE

  Sterling kissed a line from her breast to her belly button. He spent a moment lingering at her hips, finding a spot there that drove her wild with arousal. She was so wet, and she wanted him so badly. Surely he’d see he should give her a shot and they should be together, right? Because she wasn’t going to ask him again.

  He spread her legs and slid his hard cock into her. He moved slowly, gently, keeping his strokes shallow and gentle. God, she couldn’t get enough of feeling him all around her. She shoved the shouldn’t thoughts out of her mind and let herself enjoy the physicality of their binding—his weight on top of her, his fingers entwined with hers.

  It was the first time she had ever thought of what they did as making love. He kissed her face, her neck, her breasts, pumping into her, slow and steady. She writhed on the couch below him, transported to an alternate reality of pleasure.

  They came together, like they almost always did, and lying beneath him, reality crept in. How late was he for his Valentine’s dinner with his fiancée? What would they do about the baby inside her? She didn’t speak, because as long as she stayed quiet, the illusion would hold.

  She studied his tattoos, scenes of wildlife done in black and grey. Mountains and landscapes inked forever onto his body.

  Finally, he pushed up on his elbows and moved off her.

  “That was the thing we weren’t supposed to do anymore, wasn’t it?” He groped on the floor for his boxers and his shirt. She fixed the tank top and covered herself up. She pulled on her underwear and wondered where he’d tossed her jeans.

  “Yeah.” She wanted to tell him not to make a joke about it, but she bit her tongue. A sweeping wave of sadness hit her. It was foolish to keep doing this. Like, really, really foolish. “I’ve got to hit the road, I guess, so you can go on your date.”

  “Hey, Cher, don’t be like that.”

  “Don’t be like what? Pointing out the obvious?”

  “You know what I mean. Do you want me to call her and tell her something came up? Spend the evening with you?”

  Did he really not get it? She didn’t want him for the evening. They’d tried that, being these weird friends with benefits sort of thing. Hanging out. Laughing together. It was too close to what she wanted, and yet millions of miles away. For a while, she thought she could be happy with almost, but she needed all of him. She needed his heart.

  Or she needed not to be near him.

  She tugged on her sweatshirt, happy to be covered up by something.

  “Where are my pants?” Her voice quavered, and she was near tears. He frowned at her, looking so sad. Stooping, he picked up her jeans and passed them to her. She stood up and dressed, then headed for the door.

  “I’ll find somewhere to get you in tomorrow for an exam. I’ll text you.”

  “Thank you,” she managed before fleeing out into the glass and chrome waiting area and to the elevator that would take her away from him. It had to be for the last time.

  STERLING

  “Where have you been? Our reservation was over an hour ago. They’re not going to hold our table forever!” Jenna stood with her hands on her hips, scowling at him. Sterling didn’t blame her for being pissed. He gave her a big kiss on the top of the head.

  “We’ll get in.”

  “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get us in.”

  “What happened? What took you so long?”

  “Something came up at the office, couldn’t wait.” He didn’t feel good about lying to her, but he hadn’t left himself many options. Standing before him in a classic little black dress, she was a vision. But she was like a museum piece, something for looking at and not touching.

  God, he was fucking everything up.

  He carried a ring box in his pocket, had planned on doing a big Valentine’s Day proposal with a string quartet, but he decided against it. He needed to see what Cherise did with the baby. A baby. His baby. Probably. It could be Eric’s, so he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d make her do a paternity test. He’d happily float the bill for Eric’s baby if it meant a better life for Cherise.

  They got to the restaurant, and sure enough, they’d held his table. Sterling sent Jenna on ahead. “So sorry,” he said to the maitre d’, “I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I’d asked about a proposal. I’ve changed my mind. We’re going to do it at home where it’s a little quieter. I completely misread the signals. Today, she was s
aying how a big proposal is tacky.”

  “I completely understand, sir. Whatever you need.”

  After deciding which salad to order sitting across from him at the restaurant, Jenna happily chattered about her coworkers who didn’t have dates and spent the entire day complaining about the holiday.

  Sterling watched the well-dressed couple at the table next to him. The man looked nervous—his food sat untouched before him, and he kept reaching for his jacket pocket. Unconsciously, Sterling made the same gesture, feeling the weight of the box there. The woman got up to go to the bathroom.

  “He’s going to propose when she gets back,” Sterling said.

  “What? How can you tell?” Jenna whispered.

  “Look how nervous he is.”

  Sure enough, as they watched, he pulled out a ring box, withdrew a gold band with a tiny diamond chip, and dropped it into the woman’s champagne glass.

  “Whenever I see that, I worry that someone is going to choke.”

  Jenna frowned. “I hope not. What a way to kill the evening. Here she comes!”

  The woman returned from the bathroom. Sterling was so glad he’d changed his plans. He’d hired a string trio to play for her, and he was pretty sure the ring for Jenna cost more than the guy at the table next to him would make in a year. Maybe two. It would have completely upstaged this couple’s special day.

  Without noticing the ring, the woman reached for her champagne and took a drink. She set it down, still not seeing what was in the bottom of the glass.

  Jenna reached out and took Sterling’s hand. He took it, feeling like the cheat and traitor he was. He found himself feeling wholly invested in this other couple’s future, in seeing when she would find the ring and what her reaction would be. He wondered how the man would take it if she didn’t immediately fling her arms around him and say yes.

  “I hope she doesn’t choke on it,” Sterling whispered.

  Jenna swatted at him. “You’re awful.”

  He was awful, just not for the reasons Jenna was thinking.

  The woman took another drink of champagne, and Sterling could practically see the man coming up out of his seat in anticipation. She sipped, felt something hit her lip, then looked down.

  Scrutinizing her face, Sterling watched a fleeting moment of panic wash over her. Was she going to turn him down right here in front of everyone?

  A string quartet came out, and to Sterling’s horror they came to his table, crowded around Jenna, and began to play the love song from Lady and the Tramp, which Sterling specifically requested for Jenna. Though she didn’t seem to care for real dogs, she loved that movie.

  Jenna lifted her gaze to him, expectant and delighted. He shook his head, pointed at the couple the next table over. Now it was the other man’s turn to look baffled. Sterling shrugged.

  “I love that song,” Jenna said. “For a second I thought you’d—”

  “Nah,” Sterling said. “I’m not one for big, ostentatious public displays.”

  “Says the man with the Bugatti.”

  “I don’t drive it much.”

  Jenna cast a wistful look over at the other couple, the woman beaming at her thoughtful fiancée and wearing her new ring. He seemed confused but very happy.

  “She’s going to remember this Valentine’s Day for the rest of her life,” Jenna said.

  Sterling would, too. Today was the day he’d learned he was going to be a father.

  CHERISE

  Sterling texted at eight the next morning, telling her he’d gotten her in that afternoon with Woodraw obstetricians, easily the most prestigious and expensive doctor in the city for all things baby.

  Do you want me to go with you?

  No, thank you.

  You sure?

  Positive. I’ll let you know how it goes.

  Please do.

  She shut her phone off then. Whatever else he had to say, she didn’t want to know. She wondered what he and Jenna had done. Her own night had been spent with crappy romantic comedies, all of which alternately wanted to make her sob or murder someone. She didn’t even like romantic comedies. She should have been watching horror movies, but she felt like she needed to punish herself. It worked, and the morning found her miserable. It took three tries to find someone to cover her Starbucks shift, but finally, she was on her way to the classy uptown clinic.

  Sitting in the waiting room, she felt like all the other mothers-to-be. When she worked at Starbucks, she felt like she couldn’t wear any of the clothes she’d bought while working for Sterling. Here, she dressed as though she were headed to his office in an expensive business casual. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel here in her old clothes. She hated that she’d seen this other life and hated that she liked it.

  She’d spent the night before rolling over the idea of giving the baby up for adoption. They did lots of screenings for prospective parents, so the baby was guaranteed to go to a good home. She hoped it took after Sterling or it would be one more little black baby with no father whose mother couldn’t take care of it.

  She was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t hear her name when they called for her. The nurse had to call her a second time, and Cherise snapped her head up and headed into the office.

  The doctor talked to her, did a blood test, and told her he’d be in touch within the next two weeks. Now she had to wait. He told her not to do anything differently other than to cut out any alcohol or drugs. She could do that. She could wait.

  Outside the clinic, she debated texting Sterling but figured she’d just wait until the news came. No need to talk to him or to rile him up unnecessarily.

  Eleven days later, the call came while she worked her shift at Starbucks. She almost didn’t answer it but glanced at the screen in her pocket because she had a feeling.

  “I’m so sorry, I have to take this!”

  “Cherise—” Monica was new and didn’t know what she was doing.

  Cherise didn’t care and ducked into the back room. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Meyer?”

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “I’m very sorry. I have some bad news.”

  Shit. Cherise gripped the edge of the steel work table.

  “Unfortunately, it looks like the test you took from the drugstore gave you a false positive.”

  “A what?”

  “A false positive. They’re very common. I’m sorry, Ms. Meyer. You’re not pregnant.”

  Relief gushed through her, making her knees weak. “Thank you,” she said. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “No. Are you all right? Do you have someone to talk to?”

  “I do, thank you.”

  She hung up with the nurse and held her phone.

  False alarm, she texted to Sterling. Then she crammed the phone into her pocket and went back to her shift at work.

  It was another three weeks before Cherise heard from Sterling again. March. He’d hoped to be married this month.

  The wounds he’d left started to scab over, and while everything still reminded her of him, it didn’t send her into crying jags quite so often anymore. She could see the light on the other side and knew she’d be okay. Summer term would start soon, and she could immerse herself in school.

  She’d received a letter from the company that held her undergraduate loans, letting her know her balance was zero. Seeing it had taken her breath away, made her mouth go dry. She’d imagined herself living under these loans for decades. She’d already considered herself lucky her great pay gave her a leg up on paying them off.

  Cherise had blocked Sterling’s number, and once, he’d come into the Starbucks where she’d worked. She’d manage to slip out back before he saw her. Sterling in a Starbucks—she never thought she’d see the day. He had someone on staff who could make him coffee when he wanted it.

  She wondered what he’d think of her, working at a place like this. Well, it was just to pay the bills until she got back in school.

  It sho
uldn’t have surprised her he was able to track down where she was living. Someone like him, she was sure, could find anyone anywhere, but when she got the knock on her door at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night, she expected anyone but him.

  After getting home from work at ten, she’d put on sweatpants and a skimpy tank top, ready for bed. She’d been reading a textbook and going after it with an orange highlighter. Because she was tired, there were orange smudges on her fingers and on the heel of her hand.

  Standing out in the hall, Sterling looked like garbage. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes looked rumpled and slept in.

  His condition took her aback, and she didn’t know what to say. In her head, if he ever showed up on her doorstep, she would slam the door in his face. In those fantasies, though, he’d always been sharp and put together, looking debonair and handsome. Today, he stood before her, a man in pain.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “She’s dying.”

  For a millisecond, she thought he meant Jenna, but then realized it was Ambrosia he spoke of. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I have to call the vet to have him come, but I don’t think I can do it. Will you come with me?”

  Jenna should be doing this, not Cherise. Cherise knew how Jenna felt about the dog, though. She wasn’t a pet person; she didn’t understand.

  “Please,” he said to her silence. “I can’t do this alone.”

  Cherise wanted to say no. Maybe this was the chance she could make him hurt the way he’d hurt her. But she thought of the dog’s big brown eyes and huge ears, how sweet the animal was, and how much Sterling loved her.

  “Okay. Now?”

  He nodded, and his eyes filled with tears. She never thought she’d see the day that Sterling cried. He could love. He did have a heart.

  Just not for her.

  She was doing this for the dog, not for him. She ducked into her bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed a zip-up sweatshirt, and followed Sterling out to his Hummer. She worried about him, upset and hurling himself around the city in this monstrous car. She got into the passenger seat, listened as the giant engine fired up, and was surprised he drove at a sedate speed. He kept his eyes on the road, his hands at ten and two, with none of the easy energy he usually exuded when they were together.