Sleeping With The Billionaire - A Standalone Royal Alpha Billionaire Prince Romance (New York City Billionaires - Book #2)

by Alexa Davis

  Finally, when the water had gone cold and our fingers were so pruned I was afraid they’d never go back to normal, we got out of the tub and I wrapped her in a bath sheet that covered her from her shoulders to her knees. I dumped the water from the mostly melted bucket of ice, and replaced the champagne before trailing her out of the bathroom and back into her guest suite. I poured and handed her a glass, and she climbed up on the bed, still wrapped-up and damp.

  I watched her sip her champagne, curled up on the bed and sneaking peeks at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. I took the bottle to her and topped her off, then claimed her glass so she could get free of the oversized towel and get under the covers, where it was warmer. I handed her back the full glass and she giggled and snuggled in.

  “I am in the perfect position for you to dance for me or something,” she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

  “I don’t know, that sounds like something I’d only do for the woman who claims me.” She rolled her eyes and I laughed, shaking my naked ass in the middle of the room. “No, really. I can’t show all my moves to just anyone, it might be too much to handle, and you know how susceptible to my moves you are.”

  “Well, obviously,” she countered, her hands spread out over the blanket like an offering. She patted the bed beside her, and set her now nearly empty glass on the table next to her. I sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her temple.

  “I should go to my room now, if I can get that far without being seen.”

  “Why go at all?” She slid her hand up my thigh and a groan escaped me. “You can stay. We’re in a good place and I want to have you within reach for my second wind.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like the best idea ever. But I’m going to sleep alone tonight. I love touching you, being close to you. I wish I could slip you under my clothes and wear you wrapped around me all day and all night.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I am. I want to move fast, and this is how I can slow it down a moment and make sure you have your space.”

  “But I’m not asking for it now.”

  “Take it as a peace offering. I want you to know that you have your own space, even here on my family’s ranch. Once we are on neutral ground—or hell, on your ground—then I will stay and sleep in the morning after and make you stay in bed again all day. I promise.” Libby nodded and sighed.

  “I get it. This is what I asked for, and I appreciate the space.” She sighed and grimaced at me. “But there are parts of me that are very irritated with me right now.” I kissed her soft, swollen lips and ran my fingers through the damp ends of her hair, where it had dragged through the bubbles and over my wet skin.

  “You are an amazing woman, Libby. Have a good night.” She let me pull the blanket up over her higher, and snuggled in like she was going to pass out.

  “Goodnight, love.” She murmured as she closed her eyes. I snuck out of the room and made it my old bedroom before anyone got wise to my nude presence in the hall. I slid under the covers of my bed, wishing I had stayed in Libby’s room, but too proud to admit that I might have been wrong. As soon as I lay down, I knew it was going to be a long, hard night, and I settled in for the hours of tossing and turning that I knew were to come.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Libby

  The double doors that led to the courtroom were closed, and I’d already seen Andrew’s widow and his mother go in there as I was walking down the corridor, the former in a tight mini-skirt and the latter in furs, despite the Texas heat. I felt almost frumpy by comparison, wearing no jewelry but my wedding band. My hair was pulled back and my makeup was nonexistent. If I hadn’t lived in my town for so long, I wouldn’t have understood the value of understated money. To the ‘haves’ inside that room, who could very well decide the fate of my daughter, and me, the subtlety of real wealth was of the utmost importance.

  Hannah Hargrave had done a very good job of making me look like old money that had lost everything. I’d told Tucker about the trust, but it was like it had never existed. I couldn’t believe how happy it made him that it wasn’t there, but he promised that he would figure it out. I stood outside the doors and willed myself to move my feet. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and it was Tucker, probably wondering if I was stuck in traffic.

  With a sigh that sounded over dramatic, even in my head, I picked up my leaden feet and with a shaky smile to the bailiff who opened the door for me, I faced my enemy, a woman I had never met, who had lost the husband she took from me not three months later.

  I controlled my breathing and measured my pace as I walked down the row between the two seating sections. Tucker was waiting at the front with a woman I had met the day before, but couldn’t remember her name with my nerves jangling all over the place the way they were.

  Tucker helped me into my seat and poured me a glass of water, then opened his notes in front of me, so that I could see them, as well as the lady lawyer to my right. Carl, my ex-husband’s least favorite coworker, proceeded to weave a tale of my incompetence as a wife, even going as far as to imply I had something to do with his cancer diagnosis going poorly. The lady lawyer held my hand under the table, and I was grateful that she was there, and that she didn’t seem to care that my palm was sweaty and my leg was shaking under our clasped hands.

  When Tucker stood, he painted an absolutely opposing portrait of me. The image he created was one built from years of acquaintance, of time spent with me and Andrew and little Olivia. He explained to the court that Andrew had lost his mind with grief and anguish when he’d gotten his cancer diagnosis, and that was what led to him abandoning us, not that I had abandoned him in his time of need.

  He called another lawyer to the stand, as though we were in a TV movie trial show, instead of a civil hearing about a will. Carl cross-examined and Tucker called up more people, until I was dizzy from the effort of trying to keep up with the arguments and the objections and testimonies. Nothing Tucker had explained and practiced with me could compare to the chess match that I was witnessing, as he and Carl moved people like pieces across the board, each one trying to knock out a queen.

  I glanced over at the table where she sat, but only once. Her face was a mask of the same dull confusion that I felt, pain and loss and the shame of having your life broken down by strangers into “what-ifs” that dismantled your belief in everything you knew.

  There was no hate when I looked at her, just interminable fear that I was every negative thing I was accused of, and that the very young woman across the courtroom from me had been everything my husband had ever wanted, only to lose him before she could make him into the good man he always wanted people to think he was.

  Nauseated from the stress, and nursing a migraine, I heard the judge call for a recess until the following Monday, when Tucker and Carl would give their summations and we would hear her verdict on the validity of the will, and whether exceptions would be made in property, like the photos I wanted so badly, or if I would lose everything and be laughed out of court. I wasn’t nearly as optimistic about the prospect as Tucker and his team were, and all I could think about was taking medicine for my head and crawling into a deep, black hole that I could then pull in after me.

  Tucker hadn’t touched me since he came to me at the ranch, and I craved his hands on my body. But instead, he had pulled away and become hyper-focused on the will and looking for any evidence that Olivia’s trust had ever existed. I gave him every scrap of financial paperwork I had, but nothing I had been able to take with me said anything that would help secure Olivia’s future.

  It was a frustrating grind, but I still marveled at Tucker’s tenacity. He spent more time with me than he ever had when his aim had been romantic, and Olivia waited by the door every day to see if he would come and bring Kennedy with him. He would be immersed in work, and if Olivia crooked a dimpled little finger, he would put everything aside and play with her, sitting on the floor and sipping air from a teacup, or letting her climb all over him like
he was a mountain to conquer.

  He was good to have around, and I missed him when he went home each night. But he always left, taking his work and Kennedy and a lot of the laughter with him as he left. I thought back to Patty’s suggestion to seduce him, and I started to hatch the tiny zygote of a plan to make Tucker smile when he looked at me, instead of seeing me as a puzzle to be solved.

  I put Olivia to bed and made Tucker a small snack of fruits and cheeses, and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and set the whole thing down in front of him. He ignored it until I put my hand on top of the document he was reading, and slid the plate under his nose.

  “We’re back in court tomorrow, and I’m looking at your file now,” he complained.

  “Yes, and I thank you very much for that. But you’re getting burned out, and I need you sharp in the morning.” He laughed and finally accepted the food and beer.

  “The one thing I didn’t ask you was how you’re feeling about the other woman.”

  I thought about it and shrugged.

  “Kristy? I don’t know anything about her, except I wish she’d be more generous with my daughter’s inheritance, but what can you do, right?”

  “Very amenable, considering she’s the homewrecker.”

  I laughed, an explosive burst of sound without humor.

  “No, she was the easy escape. Andrew was the home wrecker. I can place the blame squarely on him for that with full confidence.” I leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek, an innocent touch that asked for nothing in return.

  Tucker made his excuses and said goodbye, and I wondered if he would ever come to me again, or if that amazing bath on the ranch had been a one-off, a goodbye performance from a man who knew he still had to work with me, and didn’t want drama. I pored over my closet for the cute clothes that I which I could’ve worn to tempt him. Few more days of navy skirts and pearls and I would be free to wear tank tops and jeans, win or lose.

  I locked the door behind him, and peered out the security window I’d had installed. Sam was still watching Tucker come and go, but he hadn’t been able to get me alone for a while, a small blessing I appreciated. I didn’t have the time or patience to be gently putting off a man who had no pull for me beyond the physical, and I was a little afraid that he’d be hard to turn down, with Tucker avoiding me completely. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t around him so much now, catching the scent of his cologne after he’d already left.

  My dreams, lately, were full of Tucker, and naked bodies entwined in ways I wasn’t sure were even possible in real life. I wanted him more than ever, and a part of me felt like he had known exactly what he was doing when oh-so-respectfully decided not to sully me with his attention. I showered and got into bed, doing everything in my power to forget about my last court appointment the next day, and to push Tucker far enough to the back of my mind that I could sleep. Olivia deserved a better life than the one that had been given to her, and I could hold my sexual frustration in for a little while longer, so that Tucker could do what he was working so hard to accomplish, and give our girl what she was owed by the man who had abandoned her.

  In the morning, in yet another conservative designer dress, with a hemline just above the knee and a white collar and cuffs to offset the dark blue of the sheath, I paced the corridors of the courthouse. I had arrived earlier than planned because of my jitters, and had gone looking for a coffee machine the receptionist had described to me. The halls of the building all looked the same, and I finally realized I was lost and had crossed over to the justice building that handled criminal court, when I began to see more uniforms than suits.

  My search having changed from caffeine to a map, I rounded a corner and almost bumped into Tucker. He was holding two coffee cups, and talking to the woman, whose name, it turned out, was Cynthia. He asked if I was coming along, and the two of them continued walking with barely a pause to acknowledge me, and I trailed behind them, a lump in my throat.

  They chatted easily, and when she laughed at something he said, she touched his arm. I felt sick to my stomach. He had moved on, and I had been kidding myself that we were okay after my outburst, that he meant he’d be coming back around once he had proven himself to me. I took a deep breath and followed them into our assigned courtroom, where Cynthia let me in first, putting me at the far end and away from Tucker. My jealousy turned into a moment of panic, and my wide eyes met Tucker’s. He winked and smiled, and asked Cynthia to trade with me, so we could communicate.

  “Don’t you think it’s important that we can communicate?” she suggested to him, with an irritable look on her face.

  “You will learn just as much sitting on the other side of Mrs. Peele, as you would sitting next to me, Cyn. Don’t worry, I don’t think we’ve missed anything.” She frowned, but sat down on the far side of the table and poured herself a water from the provided pitcher. Tucker leaned over me and touched her hand, lightly. “You did great, by the way. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

  Cynthia’s frown disappeared and she smiled to herself, glancing out of the corner of her eye a Tucker as he organized and prepared his notes. I wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled in her head. What couldn’t he have done without her? What was she so damn great at? I took a deep breath, but my hands were shaking.

  Tucker gently pried my clasped hands apart and slid the second coffee he’d bought between them. The warmth from the cup seeped into my palms and made me feel a little better, as did the fact that he’d been thinking of me. I leaned in and thanked him, and he squeezed my knee affectionately under the table. Whatever Cynthia had done for him, I would simply have to do more, and better. I scoffed at myself as I sipped the latte. All the time Tucker spent waving his arms and shouting, “I’m right here, pick me!” and I’d never wanted him more than when I realized I wasn’t the only play in his book.

  I stole glances at Cynthia out of the corner of my eye. She was younger than me, pretty, and obviously educated, if she was already a lawyer. She was probably the better choice for him, if I was being honest. I turned towards her and murmured a thank you for all her help.

  “Oh, Libby, this was one of the best experiences of my life!” she exclaimed in a low voice. “It was a real reminder of why I went into law.” I managed a wan smile before turning back to the front of the room, bemused by the sheer exuberance of her reply, and having a hard time maintaining my jealousy in the face of her enthusiasm regarding my case. We were all adults, anyway, and I didn’t have a claim to Tucker’s commitment, he was already giving me so much—and Olivia, too. I felt guilty for being so hurt and scared to lose him. He was better than that; I owed him respect, not jealousy.

  I saw Kristy and her lawyers arrive, and turned in my seat to stare at her. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, and her hair looked like she hadn’t bothered to brush it before she left home. I glanced at Tucker and motioned across the aisle with a nod of my chin. He looked over and then back at me, shrugging his shoulders.

  “She doesn’t look so good, Tucker. Can you make sure she’s okay?” He shook his head and frowned at me.

  “In this room, she’s the enemy. You aren’t even supposed to talk to her, and neither am I. That buffer between you is for the good of you both.” I scowled at him and looked across at her again, and this time she met my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I mouthed to her, and instantly, fresh tears came to her eyes. She glanced at Carl, who had his back to her as he spoke with the elder Mrs. Peele, Veronica, sitting in the observation seats right behind Kristy and company. She shook her head and wiped her eyes. I nodded and mouthed “Can I help?” She shook her head again, and I frowned. She looked so young and vulnerable sitting behind that table, I wondered why I had bothered to start these proceedings in the first place.

  Sighing, I grabbed a notepad from my purse and stole a pencil from Tucker, and started writing. Tucker glanced over my arm at what I was writing, and when I was done, took the list I’d made, of the most i
mportant things I needed for Olivia. It was written in the form of a note to Kristy, and in it, I asked for Olivia’s pictures, a piece of art I had painted in school that I missed, and, if she was willing, ten thousand dollars to be put into an account for Olivia, to receive when she turned eighteen, or began college. Tucker tore the paper off and slid it into the outside pocket of his briefcase as I protested. He took my hand in his and winked at me, and patted the briefcase.

  “If it comes to that, we can absolutely negotiate for that. Are you sure there isn’t anything else?” I shrugged and shook my head.

  “Even if I never get to work for myself, and I work at the preschool forever, I will find a way to survive. But if I can sell that painting, it might help, and if Olivia has a start for her college fund, it will make a big difference in helping her graduate. I’m not greedy, Tucker, I just want to have what’s best for Olivia.”

  “I get it. But you need to understand that you are entitled to more, and I’m going to fight for what you have a right to, before I settle for the very least you need.” I opened my mouth to respond, but the bailiff called for us to rise, as Judge Gaines entered the room. Tucker patted my knee, and Cynthia clasped her hands together and wrung them, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

  I leaned over to ask what was wrong, but Cynthia held a finger to her lips and pointed to the front. Judge Gaines called both Tucker and Carl to the stand and I found myself biting my fingernail as I watched. Carl began to gesture, and his stage whisper was loud enough for us to hear, but not to understand. I leaned over to Cynthia as she began tapping the table with her fingertips.