Mr. Lucky: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Jackson Kane

  “So, um…” I coughed, changed the subject and glanced away. I stood up and quickly slipped the bulky coat off. If I didn’t, I’d be a sweaty, uncomfortable mess in no time. Besides, by taking off my outerwear, he didn’t win anything. The thermostat was set too high in here. I was just warm, that’s all.

  It had absolutely, positively, nothing to do with the way his deep ocean blue eyes flickered over me like the hottest part of a lighter flame…

  “When’s my father getting here?” I had texted Dad several times, but I didn’t get a response. That wasn’t surprising; he was notoriously bad at texting. If I was lucky, I’d get just the letter K or a question mark. For a solid week it was nothing but emojis. It wasn’t even the common ones; it was the weird ones that no one ever used, like the Clipboard or the No Biking symbol.

  “Unfortunately, Paul won’t be able to join us.”

  “What?” My throat filled with sand. “Why not?”

  “I asked him to give my assistant Michael the tour I was supposed to take yesterday.” Garrett slowly mixed his drink.

  “OK…” My eyebrows turned upward as I tried to swallow all the questions I had with sips of my scalding coffee. Well, what the hell? What was the point of this then? Dad was the one who knew all about the stadium.

  Thanks for abandoning me to the wolves, Dad.

  “I’m not sure how much I can tell you about the stadium.” I shrugged. “Dad is the real expert; I just work there.”

  “I know.” Garrett leaned back in his chair totally at ease. The wooden chair moaned under his weight, as if it were satisfied that he was there. Garrett was a man who was just as comfortable in long silences as he was in the chaos of a bone-crunching football play. “I don’t want to talk about the stadium.”

  “I can tell you a little about the town.” I offered eagerly, trying to fill the silence. I hated the long gaps in conversation and always rushed to lessen the tension. When he didn’t immediately reply, I began educating him about the new school that was built and about the town’s industry-heavy history. “Yelp has Caldwell Hope in the top fifty towns to watch in the coming decade. Between the ski resort and the new stadium, tourism is really starting to boom and—”

  “Tell me about yourself.” Garrett’s commanding tone stopped me dead in my tracks.

  “Me?” I asked more sheepishly than I wanted him to see.

  Garrett slightly cocked his head, prodding me to say more. He sat on silence like a king to a throne, whereas I was crushed under it like a rockslide. It was suffocating to me.

  God, how could one man have so much confidence?

  “I don’t think that’s really relevant to the meeting.” I tried to be evasive. Garrett’s obvious power frightened me a little. He knew I was a painter. He knew that my house was a mess, and he probably knew that I used to own this place. That’s probably why he brought us here.

  Oh, and he knows what I look like half naked.

  Knowing how he saw me, made me cringe on the inside. I didn’t like that he knew so much about me, especially since I didn’t know all that much about him.

  “You don’t trust me?” He asked, completely unfazed.

  “No.” I couldn’t contain my chuckle. I was the rabbit talking to the fox. The last thing I wanted was to get eaten.

  Then again…

  I’d be lying if I said his perfect teeth and wicked lips didn’t look tempting as hell. Every time he gave me that look, it went right through me like a lightning bolt. I thought about what would’ve happened if I let him in this morning instead of slamming the door in his face.

  “Good.” Garrett smirked, sending another lightning bolt directly into my pussy.

  God, I had to stop being so attracted to this man!

  “Ask me a question then.” He casually sipped his coffee. He had a rebel air to him that could only come from his years as an athlete. “Anything you want.”

  Are we really playing truth or dare?

  “OK.” I swallowed the old high school thrill that made my inner thighs tingle. One question for Garrett Walker… A million questions fluttered in my head; how could I narrow it down to just one?

  What was it that changed your mind at the stadium? Why did you pick me to change your mind?

  “Why—” I paused and swallowed. “Why did you jump out of that helicopter?”

  I wussed out. How could I not? What would happen if I steered the conversation in that direction? I was here for the whole town, not just for me. I felt the crushing weight of responsibility again. Why did I have to be the one to do this? If I failed, what would everyone think of me?

  Oh. Penny’s reply stuck me in the ribs again. Everyone already new I couldn’t even run a small business. What business did I have trying to save a town?

  “Why not?” He shrugged, then glanced to the side.

  Something on Garrett’s face jerked me from my downward spiral. If I blinked I would’ve missed it. There was an unmistakable hollowness behind his eyes. There was a flash of emptiness within him, like he was searching for something.

  It was incredibly…human.

  Adrenaline filled that hole for him, the same way painting did for me. Even I knew it was just a Band-Aid though. A painkiller. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him that forged this hardened version of himself.

  “You live in a tourist town.” His face snapped back into this perfect mask that concealed all of his previous thoughts and emotions. “Do you ski?”

  “I do,” I said guardedly, still trying to give away as little as I could. I’d have asked him the same question, but the man jumps out of helicopters; odds are he’s been on a mountain before. “Are there any extreme sports you don’t do?”

  Garrett surveyed the room as he legitimately thought it over.

  “I don’t dance any more. Does that count?” He cracked a sexy smirk that made my nerve endings crackle. “Do you still dance?” He glanced back and snared my eyes. “I remember you were quite good.”

  Dance? How did he know anything about what I danced like? Again he sent my mind spinning. I regarded him with utter confusion. I hadn’t danced outside of my living room in years…

  It was bright enough in here that I felt like I was really seeing him for the first time. I wasn’t rushed, or worried about a million other things, or caught off guard like when he picked me up this morning. All I could see was him. There was something about Garrett’s eyes that filled me with some serious déjà vu.

  Where had I seen them before?

  An image floated through my subconscious like an ice cube bobbing to the surface of a chilled tea on a humid summer day. A viking-style helmet mask with horns sticking out the front.

  With that thought, came a surge of inspiration; it flowed through me like heroin. I was overcome with an urge to capture this moment. I wanted to paint. I didn’t know why, but I needed to paint Garrett Walker.

  Holy crap… The masquerade! That’s the last time I danced. My eyes frantically looked him over. Like watching a puzzle get assembled in fast forward, everything dropped into place. The voice, his massive size, those stunning eyes…

  I danced with the Garrett Walker?!

  From across the table Garrett’s smirk deepened as he saw the sudden realization dawn across my face. The bastard was loving this.

  “I—” My mouth opened to fill the void of silence, despite having no idea what I was going to say. How do I respond to that?

  I was suddenly transported back to that party; all those mixed emotions cascaded through me, jumbling me up. Except this time I knew who I was dancing with.

  Thankfully Garrett’s watch lit up with an incoming call. He fished out a Bluetooth earpiece, slipped it into his ear, then answered. “Go ahead.”

  “Is she alright?” Garrett’s playful smirk disappeared; it was replaced with an angry sternness that sent ripples of worry up my spine. Garrett’s now ice cold gaze snapped away from me; they narrowed and burned holes into the wall behind me. It reminded me just h
ow quickly Dr. Jekyll could turn into Mister Hyde.

  That terrified me.

  “I’ll be right there.” His voice lowered into a tone that could freeze everyone in the store. If we were in a room full of lit candles, they’d have all winked out in one go.

  The Grim Reaper of Wall Street had returned.

  Chapter 8

  Garrett

  “Which one do you want, my little coconut?” I held my daughter with one arm and gestured at the menu hanging outside on the wall of the ice cream parlor with the other. I read down the list, watching her face light up when I said certain flavors.

  It was a short flight and a long, sharp talk with the Superintendent of Moses Thomas Elementary School. Their teachers were striking over salary disputes. Moses Thomas was the best elementary school in the state; I didn't like the idea of having to transfer Jackie somewhere else, especially after she finally started to make friends.

  Friend, really. And that little girl only played with Jackie at school, never afterwards or on the weekends. Jackie didn't open up to many people. That was the long part of the talk. Even if the teachers hadn't started their protest, Jackie was in danger of being expelled for repeatedly lashing out in class and throwing tantrums.

  Jackie's pediatric doctor recommended homeschooling, especially with the medication she was on. I couldn't do that to her. She needed to interact with kids her own age. It killed me to see Jackie acting out. She couldn't articulate it yet, but she'd been having a tough time since her mother—

  “Black raspberry and... peanut butter!” Jackie threw her hands up, then followed that with a stern-toned, “With sprinkles.”

  “Are you sure you don't want just one first?” I asked Jackie, then turning to my assistant; I asked if they fed her lunch. He told me they had, then walked a few feet away to answer a call.

  “I only want one.” She gave me a confused look that made my heart melt. “I want half peanut butter and half black raspberry with sprinkles.”

  I decided against explaining the finer points of how scoops work and just bought her both.

  “What do you say?” I asked, handing her the cup that had both scoops, the cone and sprinkles.

  “I want a cone not a cup!” Jackie pouted, crossing her arms.

  I set her down, then put both scoops of ice cream into the cone and handed it to her. “Better?”

  “I didn't want a cup.” Jackie refused to take the cone.

  “We don't always get what we want, pumpkin. Sometimes we have to make compromises.” I crouched down before her and took a bite of the peanut butter scoop. It was tastier than I thought.

  “Hey, that's mine! That's not fair!”

  Nothing is, unfortunately. “If you want ice cream, you're going to say you're sorry.”

  “It's Ms. Sullivan, sir.” Michael, my assistant, said over my shoulder. He was holding up his phone signaling that he had it on hold.

  “Not now.” I told Michael, then turned back to my grumpy daughter. “What do you say, Queen Jaclyn? Ice cream or no ice cream?”

  “Sorry.” She angrily reached for it, but I pulled it away before she could grab it. Then I raised my eyebrow and gave her a look she'd seen a hundred times. Finally she grumbled, “Please-and-thank-you.”

  “Good girl.” I handed the ice cream cone back to her and stood up.

  “Sir?” Michael asked, hesitantly. “Sorry, sir, but she's insistent and she sounds...upset.”

  I felt bad for running out on her like that, but when it comes to my daughter everything else takes backseat. “Which one of my apologies did you give her?”

  “I cycled through a few actually.”

  This was probably for the best. I knew I wasn't going to invest in the stadium. Why drag it all out for any longer? I shouldn't have even entertained it in the first place. Three days to win me over? What kind of fairy-tale narrative was I trying to recreate?

  Even if she was the girl I danced with, it didn't matter. She could never possibly live up to the version of her I fantasized about for so many years.

  This was business, I reminded myself. I wasn't going to hit thirty billion by my thirtieth birthday by making stupid emotionally charged decisions.

  “Amidst several other grievances, she mentioned a promise you made about a dance. I don't really know how to answer that, sir.”

  I closed my eyes trying to clear the image I had of holding her, the scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her skin, but the darkness only made that moment more vivid in my mind.

  “What's on my agenda for the next three days?” I asked, wiping my forehead and smoothing my short hair back. Jackie sat quietly on a bench beside me eating her ice cream. She'd knocked the black raspberry off the cone and was nudging it with her foot.

  Between Jackie, her school, business and my own goals, so many things were going on right now. This was the worst time to go honor some promise I made to a complete stranger five years ago.

  “Nothing that can't be moved around, sir.” Michael browsed my itinerary on his phone.

  Goosebumps climbed up the back of my head.

  I remembered the biggest moments in my life. The phone call I received from Minnesota asking me to play for them, getting the call that Heidi was going into labor, my first endorsement offer that led into a stock share with a future billion dollar company, and signing the contract for my first casino. Every single one of those moments sent goose bumps up my neck.

  Would this be one of those life moments?

  If I didn't at least see what Judy was like, I might regret it for the rest of my life.

  “Prep the jet. Have three days-worth of clothes prepared for Jaclyn and me, and keep me informed of the strike at her school.” It would take a few days to get Jackie into a new school if I decided to go that route. Maybe a change in scenery would even do her some good.

  “And Ms. Sullivan?” Michael busily took down my orders.

  “Get a hold of my seamstress. Tell Tatiana I have a rush order for her.”

  “Very good, sir. A new suit?” Michael asked.

  “No.” I smiled softly remembering the tap of our shoes as she occasionally stepped on my feet. “It's not for me.”

  Chapter 9

  Judy

  “Hello?” I asked opening my front door. This time I was careful to be fully dressed. Garrett Walker would never take me by surprise ever again. For as angry as I was at him, my heart sank a little when it wasn't him at the door.

  “Hi. Ms. Judy Sullivan, right?”

  I answered with a nod, not able to hide the confused look on my face. Did I order anything from Amazon recently? Not that I could remember.

  “Please sign here.” The brown-clad UPS driver scanned a large box beside my door, pressed a few keys on his huge PDA from hell, then turned it around for me to sign with my finger above my name on the digital display.

  Once I got the package inside I studied it for a few minutes before opening. It was from “Tatiana Vargas, LTD.” I didn't recognize the name, but the packing tape had designs on it from all the biggest fashion magazines. Was she a clothing designer? No one ever mailed me anything...

  What if it's a bomb!

  I stepped back warily, then stopped and felt silly.

  Who would want to kill me? I knew my student loan company was super tired of my missed and late payments, but a bomb is a little aggressive even for them.

  This had to be some sort of mistake. I wondered how many other Judy Sullivans there were out there. It was a common enough name. Just a peek inside, then I'll try to find out who it was really for. I peeled the tape back and opened the box with the sheepishness of a little girl who stumbled upon one of her presents a week before Christmas.

  I hung up the heavy bag by the coat hanger that came with it, then unzipped it.

  “Holy crap...” I stepped backward. It was a midnight blue evening gown with a printed star pattern all over it. The glitter-embellishments made the outfit twinkle. The plunging V cut neck and back left little t
o the imagination. And the viscose and silk material was so soft and smooth that it made my heart race and my mouth water.

  Whoever this dress really belonged to had some sexy taste

  Then I saw the card.

  “Au Bon Chateau. Ten PM. Tonight. -G. Walker”

  What an asshole.

  “You must be joking.” I huffed, planting both hands on my hips. He's going to abandon me downtown, then order me to meet him. Just because he bought me a dress—a really, really nice dress—didn't mean I was his employee to order around as he saw fit.

  I only mentioned that owed dance on the phone because I thought it might get him to remember that he promised to give me a few days to review the Caldwell Hope stadium deal. I didn't care how wealthy or brutally handsome he was I wasn't going to be his booty call. This was about saving my home, that's it!

  I zipped up the wearable work of art, then grabbed my coat. Dress in hand; I stormed out to his hotel. I was done playing by his rules.

  *****

  “Sorry, Judy. He's not picking up,” Deb hung up the phone. Deb had round, brown eyes, and a casual pleasant ease to her that I remembered since I was a child. She was a longtime friend of my mom and just happened to be working the concierge desk at the hotel Garrett was staying at.

  “Is he even here?” I asked, draping the dress over the counter.

  “Honey, a man like Garrett Walker is hard to miss.” Deb raised a slightly over shaped eyebrow that gave her a look of constant surprise. “He's probably just in the gym. That's where he spends most of his time while he's here.”

  The gym, theater, and executive suite floors were access card only. I didn't own the building like the King family. The only way I was getting up there was if I was with him or if he was expecting me. Neither was going to help me right now.

  “I really need to talk to him. Can you... let me in?”

  “You and a hundred other women,” Deb laughed. “I would love to help you, Hun, but I could get in a lot of trouble.

  “Deb, please. It's important. Really.” And it was! If I could show up unannounced then I could even the playing field. I could show him he didn't have all the power and that I wouldn't be pushed around.