Cruel Billionaire

by Luma Rose

  “Remind me to thank her,” he grits out.

  I chuckle. “I’d given up on the idea that losing my virginity would be special, but I couldn’t have anticipated what would happen as a result. Obviously, I wouldn’t have gone through with it if I’d known someone was taping it and thousands of people would be witness to my loss of virginity.”

  Garrin’s eyes stray away from me and he sips his wine.

  “Anyway, that’s why it happened, and I’ve regretted it every day since.”

  He frowns and something passes over his eyes, but I can’t grasp what it is. “I’m sorry for how it turned out.”

  I give him a small smile. “Yeah, me too.” I use the napkin on my lap to wipe my mouth and then place it beside my plate on the table. “Part of returning home was about confronting the past so I can put it behind me. I’m tired of feeling ashamed and never being able to trust a man. I’m ready to change that.”

  Garrin clears his throat. “Well, I hope you get to do that.” He pushes his chair back and stands from the table. At first, I think that he’s going to the restroom, but instead he walks over to my side of the table and helps to pull my chair out. “You ready to go?”

  I blink a couple times in rapid succession, a little taken aback at his abrupt departure. “Yeah, sure.” I want to spend some time with my dad before I call it a night, and I have an early day tomorrow, so leaving now is probably a good idea anyway.

  I stand from my chair and Garrin leads me out of the restaurant with his hand placed lightly on my lower back. I ignore the way it feels like his fingertips sear through the fabric of my dress. When we reach the coat check, I pull my ticket from my purse. Garrin takes it and passes it to the attendant.

  “What about the bill?” I glance back at the dining area.

  “I have a tab with nearly every restaurant in this city. Don’t worry about it. They know I’m good for it.”

  I can’t help the chuckle that escapes because, yeah, he’s not likely to do a dine-and-dash.

  The coat check attendant hands Garrin our coats and he tips him generously, pulling a billfold out of his suit jacket.

  I have my hand out to take my coat from him, but instead he spreads it wide to help me into my jacket.

  “Thank you.”

  He merely nods.

  With an awkward smile, I step over to the elevator to take it down to the ground floor. The elevator dings, and with one last glance at the glittering skyline, I step inside.

  It’s only the two of us in the small space, and though I don’t know what, it’s clear something about our conversation has bothered Garrin. Was it all the talk of Asher and me? Can his alpha male ego not handle the reminder that he wasn’t the one who took my virginity? I don’t know, and I’m not likely to given how tightly he keeps a grip on his control. He was the one who asked the questions, so he needs to bear the consequences.

  “I had a nice dinner, thank you,” I say, trying to salvage the evening.

  “It was good to catch up.” He says nothing more and continues to look straight ahead at the doors.

  We ride the rest of the way down in silence. I’m hyperaware of every small noise I make when I shift my weight or adjust my purse. Finally, after what feels like it was long enough to have been a ride to the center of the Earth, we reach the main floor and the elevator dings before the doors slowly part.

  Ever the picture of good breeding, he motions for me to step off first. I do so and walk across the lobby toward the doors, him trailing closely behind. When I reach the doors, I stop and turn.

  “Thanks again for dinner,” I say, smiling and trying to get the same reaction from him.

  “You’re welcome. Drive safe.” With that, he pushes through the doors and out into the crisp air.

  I do the same ten or twenty seconds later after I’m done gawking after him. Shaking my head, I pull the keys to the car I’m borrowing from my parents and decide that maybe I’ll call Everly and get her take on my evening.

  I’ve yet to reach my car when I hear, “Isla.”

  I spin around to see Garrin walking across the parking lot in my direction.

  He stops ten feet away from me. “Would you like to go out again?”

  The parking lot light right over top of him makes it hard to see his features and get a read on him, not that they give much away anyway. My mind floats to the fact that he had feelings for me senior year, and the fact that he wants to go out again says maybe that torch he held hasn’t gone out yet. God knows mine hasn’t for him.

  “Um… sure. Yeah, that’d be great. Just call me.”

  He shoves his gloved hands into his pockets with a nod and spins to head back to his car.

  What the hell was that?

  13

  Chapter Thirteen

  Garrin

  I arrive back at Titans’ Tower in a foul mood. Isla’s reminder of how the sex tape imploded her life used up my last shred of patience, which meant getting the hell out of Dodge before I show the beast that lives inside of me.

  She pissed me off at dinner. Not because she did or said anything wrong but because she proved not to be the selfish, coldhearted woman I’d painted her as all these years. And, yeah, it pisses me off when I’m wrong.

  I stop in on the main level on my way up from the parking garage to see if Margaret has any mail for me. She’s usually left it on the kitchen counter in my condo by now, but I’ll save her the trip if I can.

  When I step out into the lobby, she’s gathering up her things for the night.

  “Hey, Margaret, how are you?” I ask.

  She straightens up and smiles at me, the crow’s-feet around her eyes wrinkling. “There you are. I was wondering if I’d see you today.”

  I usually stop by to say hello before I leave for the day, but I was distracted this morning, anticipating my dinner with Isla.

  “I had to stop in and see my girl before I headed up. Are the rest of the guys here?” I ask.

  She nods, her brown hair streaked with gray bobbing around her shoulders when she does. “You’re the last of the boys in tonight.”

  “I told you, I’m not a boy, Margaret.” I wink at her.

  She doesn’t take the bait and tease me back, though. Instead she studies me.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, frowning.

  “Nothing.” I feign nonchalance, but she’s not buying it.

  “You’re lying, Garrin. What’s wrong?”

  I sigh. “Just an aggravating day.” I run my palm over the top of my head.

  “Your father?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “You could say that.” I ultimately do blame him for the way I’m feeling since he’s the one forcing me to spend time with Isla.

  “Oh, honey.” She steps up and grips my forearm. “I’ve told you that you need to learn to let whatever he says to you roll of your back. Some men just weren’t meant to be fathers.”

  Don’t I know it.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m trying.”

  She leans in and gives me a hug, which I return.

  “Now you head up and hang out with your friends. I’m sure they can put a smile on that mug of yours.” She pats my cheek like I’m seven years old.

  “All right. You going to join me in the elevator?” I ask.

  Margaret lives on the fifth level in one of the condos. It seemed the easiest solution, being that we have an entire building empty. We finished one of the units for her and let her live there rent-free.

  “Nah, you go ahead. I have a couple more things I have to arrange for the morning, and then I’m calling it a night.”

  “Okay, don’t work too hard.” I wink at her and walk back over to the elevator. The doors open as soon as I press the button.

  I don’t know what we’d do without Margaret. She runs this building like a well-oiled machine. It would surely rust and come to a screeching halt without her.

  I press the button for the sixtieth floor, hoping I’ll find all the guys in the lounge so I can ru
n dinner by them. Not all of it. Not when I went unleashed and almost lost my composure because of my need to know why she gave Asher her virginity.

  I step out of the elevator once it reaches the floor and turn to walk into the living and games area. Rather than finding my four friends lounging around, I’m met with the sight of Asher’s bare ass pummeling into some woman who’s spread-eagle on the pool table.

  “Jesus, this is why you have your own room on this floor.”

  He turns and looks at me over his shoulder, grin in place, vacant stare I know means he’s high. The asshole doesn’t even miss a beat with his thrusts. “Doll, say hi to Garrin.”

  Her head comes up off the pool table to make eye contact with me. “Hi, Garrin,” she says a little breathlessly, giggling.

  “Christ,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We need to talk, Asher. I’m calling the guys down here.”

  “Sure thing, just give me a minute.”

  I walk past them to the bar area, ignoring them as I pound out a message in our group text, telling the guys to get down here.

  I’m forced to listen to the sounds of wet pussy meeting cock and the woman’s moans while I pour myself a scotch.

  “Are you just about done?” I ask with no emotion as I turn with my drink in hand and lean back against the bar.

  “Just give me one… ah… second… ah, yeah baby… that’s it.” He comes on a groan and stills inside the twit splayed out on the pool table.

  Remind me to burn that thing.

  When he pulls out of her, holding the base of his dick, he walks over close to where I am to throw the condom out. At least he’s smart enough to use a rubber even if he is fucked up.

  The elevator dings and Ford, Lincoln and Ryker all step off.

  “What the fuck, man? This isn’t high school,” Ryker says, storming into the room.

  “Yeah, go fuck in your own room, Ash,” Lincoln adds.

  The woman on the table doesn’t even bother to try and cover herself up or act embarrassed that they’ve been caught. Quality woman there, Asher.

  “Sorry, guys. Her charms got the better of me and I acted impulsively. What can I say?”

  “More like you’re messed up—again—and you’re not thinking straight.” Ford joins me at the bar and pours himself his own drink.

  “Tell them, doll. We just got lost in the moment.” Asher makes his way back over to the pool table and shrugs on his T-shirt, covering the tattoos on his chest and leaving the ones on his arms on full display, then pulls on his black boxer briefs.

  “Oh yeah. If you’re so smitten, what’s her name?” Ryker grins, knowing he’s got him.

  Asher looks back at the woman, who’s now sitting on the edge of the pool table and twists his face into a pained look.

  “That’s what I thought,” Ryker says.

  The woman smacks Asher on the shoulder. “It’s Brandy! How could you forget?” She huffs and slides off the pool table, collecting her own clothes in the process.

  The three of us stand and watch, amused, while she angrily gets dressed. For his part, Asher couldn’t care less, digging a joint out of his discarded pants on the floor and lighting it.

  “Don’t call me!” she shouts as she stomps off toward the elevator.

  Asher chuckles. “Not a problem.”

  “You need to get your shit together,” Ryker says and points his finger at him, stepping forward. “One of these days you’re gonna make a mistake that puts all of us at risk.”

  Asher blows smoke in his face and laughs. “For fuck’s sake, relax. It was a fuck.”

  Lincoln pushes Ryker out of the way, probably able to tell that he’s a second from losing it.

  “Ryker’s right, Ash. You need to get a handle on yourself. This isn’t high school anymore. We all have a lot more to lose.”

  “Whatever you say, Linc.” He turns and walks over to the couch, plopping down in the corner.

  “Why’d you call us all down here?” Ford asks from beside me.

  “I had my dinner with Isla tonight.”

  “She mentioned that earlier,” Ford says.

  I whip my head in his direction. “What did she say?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “What should she say? She said you’d asked her to dinner, and she’d accepted.”

  “Did she say anything that might explain your dad’s sudden interest in her?” Ryker asks.

  “No, not at all.” I turn and make eye contact with Lincoln. “Were you able to find anything out?”

  He walks over to sit in the far corner of the couch away from Asher. “Nothing.”

  “Are you sure you looked everywhere?” I ask.

  He scowls at me as if I’m questioning his hacking abilities. These fucking computer types get so twisted if you even question anything.

  “Of course I looked everywhere. There’s nothing to find. She went to college in Washington, then went to law school, graduated top of her class, hasn’t taken the bar yet. Had two roommates in undergrad. One of them was kind of cute”—he waggles his eyebrows—“the other not so much. She still keeps in touch with them, but not too much. Right now she rents an apartment just outside Washington. She doesn’t eat out a lot but seems to enjoy splurging on lingerie at La Perla, and her favorite takeout place seems to be the Chinese restaurant around the corner from her apartment. There’s nothing else to find. She leads a very boring, pious life if you ask me.”

  Jesus, the shit he can figure out about people by hacking into their lives is jaw-dropping. I ignore the comment about La Perla because the last thing I need is to think of Isla in overpriced silk and lace.

  “You said she rents a place… does she still have that apartment?” I ask.

  “Yeah. She has a lease that runs month-to-month, and she just paid next month’s rent this week.”

  I lift my glass to my lips and swallow the burning liquid, then leave it on the counter. I pace the room. “So she’s obviously not planning to stay here long-term.”

  “She pretty much said so when I hired her to work on the campaign, but she said that she’d stay on until the election at least.”

  I scratch the back of my head while I walk and stare down at the floor. “So why is she here, then? There has to be some reason.” I think back on her saying she was trying to overcome the scandal and how that was part of the reason she returned. So what’s the rest of the reason?

  “I have no fucking clue, man. She hasn’t said anything in the time I’ve spent with her.”

  I raise my head and look to Lincoln. “Look into her parents. Maybe it’s something to do with them and Isla is just a conduit for my father to get to them.”

  “Good thinking,” Ryker says.

  “I’m not just a pretty face.” I give him a saccharine smile.

  “No, you’re an asshole too,” Asher says, and the entire group laughs.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” I stand facing Asher with my hands on my hips. “Isla said something interesting I’ve been meaning to ask you about.”

  “Whether she could have round two with me?” He chuckles, the humor not reaching his glazed-over eyes.

  “She said that someone told her I had asked Tara Westover to the prom and that was the only reason she agreed to go on a date with you.”

  He shrugs and takes another drag off his joint. “And your point?”

  “It got me thinking that you’d never shown Isla any interest before you went out with her. She wasn’t at all your type. You always preferred to go after the easy pickings and the girls you knew you’d have no trouble getting into bed.”

  He stands from the couch but stumbles on his feet and falls back down to the cushion. “Maybe I felt like a challenge.”

  I’ve known Asher long enough to know he’s bullshitting me. There’s something else there, something he’s not telling me.

  “Who told you to go for Isla?” I don’t break his gaze as he stares up at me.

  The other three guys are silent, watching the s
cene unfold, nobody offering any suggestions.

  Finally, once he sees that I’m not going to back down and let this go, Asher blows out a breath and lets his head fall back and rest against the back cushion. “Fine. It was Carter, all right?”

  My head spins like Mike Tyson just punched me in the face.

  I wasn’t sure what answer I expected, but Carter wasn’t it.

  Why would Carter do that? He was the only one of the Classholes I’d confided in about my feelings for Isla, and he was my closest ally in the group.

  “Carter? Are you sure your brain isn’t just fried and you can’t remember?”

  He rolls his eyes at me, and I swear to God he looks like he has trouble focusing after they’re righted in his head again. “I’m sure. He bet me twenty points that I couldn’t get Isla to give up her virginity. I was so close to leading behind Ford, I had no choice but to take the bet.”

  The game.

  That’s what we called it back in high school, and our antics because of it are a lot of the reason why we were called the Classholes at the time.

  All through high school we’d bet each other points to do horrible things, and whoever had the most points at the end of senior year won the game. Five points to pants some loser in gym class in front of everyone, twenty points to get the hot music teacher to kiss you, ten points to cause a cat fight between a pair of cheerleaders—nothing was off the table if it got you the points.

  “Why did you film it?” I ask, glancing over at Ryker.

  “Carter told me I’d earn ten points if I filmed it,” Ryker admits. “But that video wasn’t ever supposed to get out. I have no idea how the hell that happened.”

  Guilt twists like a rusty knife in my gut. It’s weird for all of us not to be completely in on every bet.

  I’m pissed at these guys, but do I have any right to be? Back in high school I would’ve been right there with them. I did my fair share of fucked-up shit to gain a few points and I didn’t give a shit who I hurt. Like the time I slept with Brittany Peele and then told her in front of the entire cafeteria that she couldn’t give head worth a shit, so there wouldn’t be a repeat. She ran out of there crying and didn’t return to class for a week. Then she spent the rest of her sophomore year trying to prove me wrong by giving blow jobs to any guy who asked.