Bad Billionaires Box Set

by Elise Faber

  Colin kissed her forehead. “I like it when you say dude.”

  “I’m apparently a true Californian now. I say it to mean man or woman, senior or child, and as a curse, a plea, or an exclamation.”

  He nodded sagely. “You a master of all things dude-related.”

  She smirked. “It’s funny to hear you say dude.”

  “It’s not that common of a word in Scotland.”

  CeCe rolled over in his embrace, settling atop of him with her chin resting on her folded arms. “But it has so many uses.”

  “Apparently so.” He stroked a finger down her cheek. “But the marvelous uses of dude aside, are you okay?”

  “I think so.” She paused, raising a finger when he started to open his mouth. “No. That’s not entirely true. I am okay, but I feel almost . . . flayed open? I don’t know how to describe it. Like I’m too vulnerable, and I keep waiting—” She bit off the rest of her sentence, knowing the words weren’t entirely fair.

  But even though they remained unsaid, Colin heard them anyway.

  His eyes darkened. “You’re waiting for me to hurt you again.”

  She hesitated.

  He sighed and cupped the back of her neck, forcing her gaze to his. “Dammit. I’m so sorry you were hurt, sweetheart, and I want to promise that it won’t happen ever again. That I won’t hurt you. But—”

  “You can’t.” She stared into his blue eyes, seeing the truth there. It was obviously something he didn’t care to admit, but no one knew the future.

  How could he promise to never hurt her?

  It was unrealistic. Impossible.

  People hurt each other all the time.

  It’s just that . . . she really wanted that promise from Colin. No. What she really wanted was for it to be the truth. That he would magically transform into that mythical hero, sweep her off her feet, and they would ride off into the sunset.

  But myths were myths for a reason.

  They were stories. Fantasies.

  Fantasies that are grounded in reality, her heart argued. That’s where fairy tales come from. There’s always a kernel of truth and reality within them.

  And great, now she was bickering with herself over the future of a relationship that would probably never be.

  “I want to be the man you deserve,” he whispered, and the torment in his expression made her heart ache.

  “I want that, too,” she whispered back. “So, so much.”

  Except she didn’t believe in fairy tales.

  She couldn’t allow herself to.

  Not any longer.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Colin

  He watched Cecilia sleep, her chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. There was no green in the sky tonight, but that hadn’t stopped her from staying up too late, waiting and hoping for the northern lights to make an appearance.

  Of course, the hotel had installed an “aurora alarm” in the cabin, one that would be activated if the aurora borealis made an appearance.

  Not that CeCe trusted that.

  She’d said the first night as they’d lay bundled up in their robes, lying under the glass roof, “I’ve waited my whole life to see this. I’m not trusting it to technology.”

  Colin smiled at the memory.

  She’d been like a kid on Christmas morning the first time the sky had lit that otherworldly green and it had made his heart catch, that little slice of the Cecilia of the past, the one who appreciated the beauty of the world. The one who’d stared endlessly over the cliffs near his home, studying the ocean and trying to commit the sounds of the waves breaking against the rocks to memory. It had reminded him of the girl who’d been captivated by the small details in a stained-glass window, the one who’d so appreciated the curls and different shades of color in his horse, Bowen’s mane that she’d spent long hours sketching every minute detail.

  That had been the woman he’d fallen for.

  The one with a zest for life, who’d been so freely giving with her love and affections. She hadn’t been like the other women in his life, always calculating which power play would gain the most or throwing a temper tantrum when they didn’t get their way.

  Cecilia had been different.

  And it had been their downfall.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, carefully sliding free of the mattress while being sure to keep CeCe covered with the blankets.

  He had to make a call.

  A long overdue call that would probably involve an apology.

  Och. He hated apologies. Giving them, that was.

  Quietly, he stuffed his feet into his boots and shrugged into his parka. He grabbed his phone from the side table before slipping through the front door.

  Then he dialed a number he knew by heart. One he’d blocked six years before.

  The sun was just coming over the horizon, but it was already close to eight in the morning. Of course, Finland didn’t get much sun this time of year, and it would already be setting by one in the afternoon, so there wouldn’t be much of a chance to soak up its rays.

  But none of this had anything to do with the call he needed to make.

  Except to delay the inevitable.

  “Fuck,” he muttered again and pressed the green button on the screen.

  Colin had a moment’s regret when he realized it was two hours earlier in Scotland, but by then the phone was already ringing.

  And ringing.

  And ringing.

  Then going to Ewan Campbell’s voicemail.

  “Well, fuck.” He started to shove the phone back into his pocket but it started vibrating and one glance at the screen had his gut churning.

  The arsehole was calling him back.

  He glanced heavenward for one long moment before swiping his finger across the screen. This was what he wanted. Right?

  Right.

  He put the phone to his ear. “Aye?”

  “You’re a stubborn fuck, aren’t ye?” Ewan said.

  God that voice was his childhood, and the longing it set off in his heart was almost shocking. It wasn’t a surprise that he’d missed the friend he’d grown up with, the one he’d gone off to Oxford with, but what was shocking was the depth of that emotion.

  They’d shared so much, and Colin didn’t realize until he’d heard Ewan’s voice how empty he’d been the last few years.

  “Aye,” he agreed. “I think I might have misunderstood a few things.”

  “A few—” Ewan broke off then continued with a lowered voice. “A few things?” he whispered. “You misunderstood a whole hell of a lot, Colin. And then wouldn’t let me or CeCe explain. Do you even remember what you did to her? What you said?”

  Colin sighed. “She told me—”

  “You’ve seen her?” he exploded. “After everything, she’s let you near her?” There was a female voice in the background, a muffled protest. “Sorry, baby,” Ewan said and the sound of rustling filled the airwaves.

  “Is this a bad time?” Colin asked.

  “It’s barely six in the morning,” Ewan retorted. “That’s never a good time. Especially when a couple is dealing with all the demands of a newborn.”

  Ewan had a kid?

  “You’re married?”

  Ewan sighed. “Two years now. And my son is six weeks old.”

  “Fuck,” Colin murmured.

  “I know,” Ewan agreed. “We’re getting old. Growing up.”

  “I don’t know if that idiom can be applied to me,” he said. “Or not until recently, that is.”

  A pause, then, “You’ve seen Cecilia?”

  “We’re on holiday together.” He kept the explanation as simple as possible.

  “So, she trusts you?” Ewan bustled around in the background, turning on and off water as he filled a container. Probably for coffee. His friend had never been able to live without the caffeinated beverage.

  “I don’t know that she trusts me.” Colin sighed and sank down onto the snowbank a few feet away from
the cabin. “She’s waiting for me to hurt her again.”

  “And you don’t want to hurt her?”

  His spine went ramrod stiff. “What the fuck?”

  Ewan spoke over the sounds of coffee percolating in the background. “Hurting Cecilia seems to be a pattern for you. She’s been happy and has a stable job. She’s made friends.”

  “You’ve kept in touch with her.” His voice sounded dead, even to his own ears.

  “Yes, Col. She needed someone to look after her.”

  When you couldn’t, was the portion of his sentence that he left unsaid.

  Colin heard it anyway.

  “I was in a fucked-up place. Not an excuse,” he hurried to say when Ewan started to speak. “I made my first fuck up right, but I don’t know how to fix the second one.”

  Silence.

  Dammit. He dropped his head to his knees, a long tense quiet the only response to his words. At this point, he was ready to beg.

  “Please, Ewan. I need you to tell me how to fix it.”

  A long breath hissed through the speakers of his phone. “There is no easy fix, you bloody idiot.” A pause. “What you said to her was beyond cruel and the only way you might have half a hope of truly repairing things is to give her time.”

  Time. Fuck. Why did it always come down to time?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cecilia

  Colin was quiet. Too quiet.

  He’d come in a half hour before, his arms full of yummy-smelling baked goods from the restaurant near the lobby. He’d woken her with a gentle kiss and by waving a chocolate croissant under her nose.

  But he’d been too quiet as he’d drunk his cup of coffee. All notes of teasing had disappeared, and it was making her uneasy.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced, pushing back his chair in an abrupt motion that made her jump.

  “Okay,” she said, her heart picking up its pace.

  Perhaps this was the moment he’d decide to get on with his life.

  Without her.

  Well then, so what? She wasn’t that girl anymore. Her chin lifted, and she straightened her shoulders. If he wanted to go, then he could just let the door hit him on the ass—

  He kissed her.

  “I love you, Cecilia Thiele,” he said softly, when they’d broken for air. One brush of his thumb between her brows. She was probably frowning again. Then he strode down the hall, closing the bathroom door with a click.

  But . . . had he just said that?

  Why? How?

  Blowing out a breath, she shook her head then ate some more of her chocolate croissant. Not in confusion exactly, but definitely in bewilderment.

  “I love you,” she murmured, touching her lips. “He loves me.”

  And he’d walked away again.

  Well, that wasn’t going to stop her. Not this time.

  She put down the chocolate croissant—

  Why did that make her giggle? But she could imagine a voice through a megaphone blaring, “Put down the chocolate croissant and go attack your boyfriend in the shower! He needs a blow job, STAT!”

  Cecilia didn’t know what was wrong with Colin, what had happened overnight or earlier that morning, but he was off and unlike in the past, where she’d tiptoed around, afraid to rock the boat, she decided she wasn’t going to be in a relationship like that again. If they’d talked more, if she’d bent less, if they’d come together instead of drifting apart, things might have been different.

  They might have still been together.

  She stood and pushed back her chair.

  And maybe not, maybe their marriage would have imploded in the end. But what CeCe was realizing with a growing certainty was that the past was the past and if she really did want to move forward with Colin in her life, then things between them were going to have to change.

  Old patterns needed to break.

  She stripped off her tank top, dropped her pajama pants to the floor, her underwear.

  Naked, she pushed through the door to the bathroom.

  Then froze.

  Colin was fully dressed, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, his hands in his head, the shower on full blast and steam filling the space in little gray, damp curls.

  He glanced up at her intrusion, his jaw dropping open even as his eyes went scorching hot. His gaze dipped to her breasts, lower.

  And while her stomach clenched in return—this man made absolutely every cell in her body stand up and take notice—her mind was more concerned.

  She sank to her knees, feeling the damp air curling around her skin, placing her palms on his knees, the fabric of his jeans almost rough against her bare skin.

  “What is it, baby?” she asked, slipping closer when he didn’t touch her in return.

  Nothing. Except his eyes closing and a deep breath expanding then collapsing his lungs.

  CeCe reached up and put a hand on his cheek. “Colin? Has something happened?”

  His eyes flashed open. “I spoke to Ewan.”

  Oh, fuck.

  “Uh—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, agony in every line of his expression.

  “That I still talk to him?” she asked when he nodded, keeping her tone gentle, considering that he’d thought she’d run off with Ewan six years before. “I didn’t even think about. Ewan has been good to me. He got me out of a bad situation, helped me get back to the States. But he’s never been more than a big brother figure, checking in on me now and then.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t have let him be anything more, anyway. I wasn’t capable of letting anyone in for a long time. But none of this makes any difference to what we’re building now. Not with us looking forward instead of back. We should leave the past where it belongs.”

  “I should have been the one who was there for you.”

  Oh.

  She understood now, he wasn’t jealous of Ewan, rather her relationship with him was just one more reminder, one more regret, one more should-have-could-have-would-have. But before she could tell Colin that, his hands came up to grip her shoulders and though his tone was fierce, his touch was gentle. “Also, your logic is flawed. We are both holding on to anger and fear that is doing neither of us any favors.”

  She paused and considered that. “What I feel for you isn’t anger.”

  He stilled. “Then what is it that you feel?”

  Love. But she was too scared to admit it.

  “This,” she said, stretching up to kiss him rather than confessing her feelings.

  Colin allowed her lips to briefly collide with his before he pushed her back. “That’s a distraction. We need—”

  “No,” she said. “What I need is for you to press your body to mine and hold me close. I need your kisses to show me what I mean to you, I need your touches to ground me in the here and now. Words are so easy, don’t you see?” She dropped her head to his shoulder. “But actions . . . actions are everything. Please, Col. Please give me everything.”

  He stood, helping her step into the shower before stripping off his clothes. “You already have it all,” he said and kissed her.

  Water sluiced over their skin, warm enough in actuality but almost freezing cold in comparison to the heat of his body. Nothing felt as good as him pressed flush against her, hard where she was soft, spicy where she smelled sweet. He didn’t have the body of the gym rats she saw in Northern California, but his abs were hard and defined, and his pecs were squeezable to the nth degree.

  So she indulged, palming them, loving the way he groaned as she ran her nails over his nipples.

  “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath hot near her temple, his lips kissing the delicate skin there. “I don’t know how you can ever forgive me for what they did to you, for what I did and thought, for what I said.”

  “Don’t—”

  “I know. Actions.” Colin’s arms tightened around her. “But I have to say this. Yes, I was manipulated. Yes, they did a bang-up job of doing it. But, f
uck, you were mine. I should—” He swallowed hard.

  “I am yours, Colin McGregor.” Her lips curved. “Always. Even when I was fighting very hard against it, I could never deny this . . . this thing that ties us together. I knew it from the first time I saw your muddy boots on that hillside, stalking toward me, all brooding-hero-style”—she grinned up at him, relieved to see him smiling back—“and I know it in the man you are today. The one with agony in his eyes and regret in his voice. We both screwed up, but keeping hold of those old hurts will get us nowhere.”

  “I could just throttle them—”

  “Baby.” She rose on tiptoe, stared him in the eyes. “You know everything now. Can you let it go?”

  He dropped his forehead to hers. “I’m so angry. We lost years because—”

  “Because we couldn’t find the strength in our relationship to talk it out.” She brushed back a lock of his hair. “If we couldn’t even talk through our second major hurdle—and I don’t disagree it was a damned big one. But we didn’t let it bring us closer. Instead, the deception imploded everything we had, and I think that means we were too young and it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

  “It damn well would have,” he snapped.

  She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I know I’m just riding this wave of crystal clarity that has come six years too late, but no, I don’t think it would have. Sooner or later your family would have found a way to drive us apart.”

  Colin didn’t say anything for a long moment, just held her tightly. But finally, he slowly exhaled and said, “You’re right.”

  “Words a woman dreams to hear,” she deadpanned.

  He released one hand from her back and used it to tip her chin up. He brushed a kiss against her lips. “You didn’t deserve any of the bad things that happened to you, and I will do my best to ensure every day from this one forward has something good in it.”

  “As long as that something good involves you,” she said, closing her eyes and inhaling the clean, warm scent of him, “then I’m sold.”