The Complete Bad Boy Billionaire Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

  She drops her hands to her sides, then lifts one up and rubs at her forehead. “I had to run out.”

  “At three in the morning?”

  “Two-thirty in the morning, actually.”

  I cross my arms in front of my chest. What the fuck is happening right now? “Why didn’t you wake me up? Whatever it was, I could have sent someone.”

  Angelica shakes her head, then blows out a breath through pursed lips. “Not...really.” She shifts her weight to the side, then steps over to me, putting both hands one of my forearms. Her eyes are wide in the darkness. “My brother is having some trouble.”

  We’ve talked about her brother before, but she didn’t mention the fact that he lives in the city.

  “He’s in the city?”

  She hesitates for a split second. “Yeah. He lives here. It’s just—life has always been more difficult for him than it is for me, and he’s going through a rough time.” Angelica leans down and kisses my arm between her hands. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she says softly, and my heart turns over in my chest.

  “It’s all right.” I kiss the top of her head, then put my arm around her shoulders. “Is your brother going to be okay?”

  “For tonight, yeah. I told him things would be better in the morning.”

  “Good advice.” I start walking us back toward the bedroom. “I think we should sleep on it.”

  Angelica laughs, sounding tired, relieved...and something else that I can’t put my finger on. “I agree. So much.”

  We move through the darkness of the penthouse together, Angelica leaning her head against my shoulder. It feels so right my heart nearly explodes.

  And yet....

  Something pricks in the back of my mind. It’s odd that she decided to sneak out without leaving a note, or even sending me a text that I’d see when I woke up. She was trying so hard not to make any noise when she came back....

  I try to shake off the doubt, and when she strips off her clothes and climbs back into bed next to me, I almost succeed.

  Almost.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Angelica

  I meet Charlie three blocks from Jett’s penthouse in front of a bagel shop that’s open twenty-four hours. He’s lurking in the shadows, hidden away from the light that pours through the front windows, wearing shorts and a black hoodie. The sight of him sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s not pleasurable. I’m glad for the yoga pants and three-quarter length shirt I pulled on in the dark of Jett’s bedroom.

  Get this over with.

  I’m next to him in seconds, shoving the flash drive into his hand. “Here.”

  He clicks his tongue. “Someone’s in a pissy mood.”

  “It’s almost three in the morning.”

  Charlie shrugs, spreads his hands wide in front of him. “You’re the one who blew me off earlier.

  “Yeah.”

  This is too God damn much. The sneaking around in the middle of the night, lying to the man I love—

  The man I love....

  I can’t. I won’t. Charlie doesn’t know where Adam is, and I’m not going to tell him, and maybe he’s a big-time thug in New York City, but I doubt he’s going to send someone to search the rest of the country. So what if Adam has to start over somewhere else? It’s a great big world, for Christ’s sake.

  I turn to go, but Charlie follows. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m done with this, Charlie. You got what you wanted. My brother’s debt is paid. This is fucking ridiculous.”

  His hand is instantly wrapped around my arm in a vise grip, and he jerks me around to face him. His mouth is twisted, teeth gritted together, eyes flashing.

  “Are you sure you want to say that?” he hisses.

  I shake my arm as hard as I can, dislodging his hand. “Get. Away. From. Me.”

  Charlie glances to the left and right, but the sidewalk is empty. “You’re a stupid bitch, aren’t you?”

  “Not as stupid as you.” I turn away again, start walking toward the penthouse.

  Charlie is by my side in an instant. “Think about what you’re doing.”

  “I’ve thought about it.”

  “How does your mother like living in Elsie?”

  My shoe catches on the sidewalk as soon as his words register. My mouth goes dry. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Charlie.”

  “Elsie, where your mother lives. In Michigan. You grew up there. Your brother’s visiting her right now.”

  My heart pounds against my ribs, and I have to swallow down an acid burst of panic. He knows. He knows where they are, and where they live.

  But that doesn’t mean he can get there.

  Does it?

  How far does Charlie’s empire extend?

  “I don’t know who you got your information from, but they’re an idiot.”

  Charlie laughs like I’m a stand-up comedian. “You’re a bad liar.”

  I spin to face him, crossing my arms. “If you’re going to threaten me, then do it.”

  “Oh, I’m not threatening you,” he says, his voice smooth and disgusting. “I’m giving you all the information you need to make a good decision.”

  “You’re so kind.”

  Charlie’s hand shoots out away from his body at lightning speed, and I jump backward. “See? You’re fucking scared of me. And you should be. Because if you walk away from me right now, it won’t be you who faces the consequences. It’ll be your mother. And your precious brother.”

  I bite my lip to force my chin from quivering. “I don’t believe you.”

  Charlie whips a phone out from his back pocket, holds it up to my face. “Do you believe this?”

  On the screen is a picture of my mom and brother sitting in a corner booth at the only cafe in town. The next image is one of a rough-looking man holding up yesterday’s paper.

  I swallow hard.

  “I know where they are, and you know what I’ll do. Choose.”

  I want to slap his face, I want to kick him in the balls and call 9-1-1, I want to put my own hands around his neck and make him feel like I feel right now—like all the air has gone out of my lungs.

  Instead, I hold out my hand, face up.

  He drops a new flash drive into it.

  “See you in a week.”

  And that—that’s not the worst of it, because Jett is waiting for me when I get back to the penthouse, my knees like Jell-O. The outline of him silhouetted against the darkness of the living room is so still that at first I think Charlie has sent someone after me, and they’ve managed to get inside.

  “Jett, you scared the shit out of me.”

  “What’s going on?” His voice is sleepy, suspicious.

  “I had to run out.”

  Think fast, Angelica.

  “At three in the morning?”

  “Two-thirty in the morning, actually.” I hate when other people say that kind of thing, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up? Whatever it was, I could have sent someone.”

  “Not...really.” I have to tell him at least a partial truth, I have to.... “My brother is having some trouble.”

  “He’s in the city?”

  This is making me sound unbelievably shady, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “Yeah. He lives here. It’s just—life has always been more difficult for him than it is for me, and he’s going through a rough time.” I want to touch him. I want to put my hands on him, even if he’s the anchor that I’m about to lose. So I go to him, put my hands on his forearm, feeling the warmth of him. Then I kiss the skin between my hands. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  Underneath my touch, Jett relaxes, just a little. Thank Christ.

  “It’s all right,” he says, and then kisses the top of my head. “Is your brother going to be okay?”

  “For tonight, yeah. I told him things would be better in the morning.”

  “Good advice.”
He wraps his arm around me and starts moving us back toward the bedroom. Relief floods my veins. “I think we should sleep on it.”

  “I agree. So much.”

  In the bedroom I ditch my clothes and crawl under the covers, hoping to fall asleep fast. Instead I lie on my side, Jett’s arm wrapped around me, my mind racing.

  There has to be a way out.

  And I have to find it fast.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jett

  Connor stands next to me inside the lobby of the Brandon, Inc. building. We’re receiving another deluge of information from Riley, a spritely woman from the PR department who has endless red, curly hair and talks about a mile a minute.

  “What we need to make absolutely clear is that none of our resources were benchmarked for their technology needs, so any investments we made in LoveLink were strictly campaign-oriented. At no time did we fund the hosting of any inappropriate materials.”

  “Got it,” Connor says, nodding down at the tablet containing his prepared statement. This press conference has been arranged for the sole purpose of putting the LoveLink connection far, far behind Brandon, Inc. I’m going to reassure the public that we’re an upstanding corporation deserving of their trust, and Connor is going to outline our now-defunct financial ties so that there’s no question about our involvement in the future.

  There will be questions, of course, but this position statement will be the perfect thing to point people toward.

  I can’t wait until this is over.

  It’s irrational, I know it, but the more that goes wrong with this fucking acquisition, the more I think it all started with Emerald. If I had been less distracted, if I hadn’t been so quick to think I was in love with her....

  No. I might be a prick, but I’ve never done anything as horrendous as the assholes at LoveLink allegedly did.

  Not that it really matters in a case like this.

  At any rate, I don’t love the idea of standing outside in the Indian summer heat to answer questions—there’s such a thing as a digital broadcast—but Riley and the rest of the PR team think the best image to present involves me, along with Connor, addressing the reporters in person outside the building.

  Whatever.

  I haven’t been listening to Connor’s question, but Riley is answering it in great detail.

  “The key when it comes to the financial discussion is going to be remaining clear and concise. We’re not apologizing for anything, but....”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. Angelica must have forgotten that I had the press conference scheduled for noon. This morning we both slept a little late, and she clearly had something on her mind. I’d guess she’s still thinking about what happened last night.

  But it’s not Angelica. The name that pops up on the caller ID is Jackson Cook. His accounting firm handles my personal finances, and he’s been the lead on my account since I turned 21 and gained access to my trust fund.

  “Excuse me,” I say, just as Riley inhales another breath to launch into her next explanation. “I have to take this.” I move away toward a deserted corner of the lobby and answer the call. “Brandon.”

  “Hello, Jett. I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of the work day.”

  I have to laugh at that. “When else would you bother me, Cook?”

  But the man’s gravelly voice has an undercurrent of tension. “I’m sorry nonetheless—I know you’re a busy man. Do you have a moment to talk?”

  It’s air-conditioned in the lobby, but something in his tone makes my skin go hot underneath my summer-weight suit. I can’t remember the last time Jackson Cook sounded concerned about anything involving my account. I pinch one of the sleeves of my jacket to make sure Mrs. Henderson didn’t sneak one of my winter suits into the closet. “Of course.”

  “I’ll make it as quick as I can, Jett. One of my associates noticed something odd happening with a few of your accounts over the last few weeks.”

  Eyes narrowed, I look out the lobby doors at the members of the press gathering around the podium. “Odd how?”

  “She brought it to my attention today, and I reviewed the accounts personally before I called you. It appears to be a number of small transactions—and by small, I mean a few dollars each—moving from account to account.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the automated investment system we set up last year?” Cook wanted to test it with a few accounts, not a significant risk, and it performed well enough that they deployed it for most of the clients at the firm. Most of my assets are still managed by hand, but there’s something to be said for a diversified portfolio.

  “That’s why I wanted to call and check with you. You’re not a client who has a particular interest in making changes to your accounts without letting me know—unless something’s changed.”

  “Nothing’s changed.”

  Everything has changed. The moment the words are out of my mouth, Angelica’s face is all I can think of. Emerald might have come close to throwing my life off track, but Angelica....

  That brother of hers, though, and creeping out in the middle of the night....

  “That’s what I thought, but I needed to confirm. I’ll have my team begin a more thorough investigation. We’ll sort this out, Jett.”

  “Thanks, Cook. Keep me updated.”

  “I will.”

  I’m about to end the call when something else occurs to me. “Cook?”

  His voice comes from far away. “Yes, Jett?”

  “When did you say this activity started?”

  “About three weeks ago. Once we’ve gone over everything with a fine-toothed comb, we’ll have an exact date.”

  Three weeks ago was when I saw Angelica for the first time.

  It’s a bizarre coincidence, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to say something else to Cook, but there’s a touch at my elbow.

  It’s Riley. “They’re ready in three, Mr. Brandon,” she whispers.

  “I’ll wait for your results, Cook.”

  “Is there anything else you wanted to go over, Mr. Brandon?” Riley walks by my side back across the lobby to where Connor stands, reading over his remarks one final time.

  “No. Thanks, Riley. You’ve been very helpful.”

  She smiles brightly and backs away, giving Connor and me a little space.

  Connor glances up at me. “What’s going on?”

  “Something weird with my personal accounts.”

  “Yeesh,” Connor says. “Did they figure it out or just start looking into it?”

  “Just found out today.”

  Connor snaps his fingers three times, then gives me a meaningful look.

  “Damn right.”

  I force myself to focus on the press conference, but my mind wants to linger over what Cook said.

  Three weeks ago, three weeks ago....

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Angelica

  It’s a pile-on at work on Tuesday and Hadley is in rare form, so I’m stuck at the office well past six o’clock. Finally, when my eyes are burning from staring at the computer screen for so long, I give up. It’s painful just to write a summary email for Hadley.

  Jett isn’t waiting up against the car when I get down to the sidewalk. He’s sitting inside it. Stuart is the one who comes around and opens the door for me. I give him a little smile and a thank you, then slide in beside Jett.

  He’s staring deeply into his phone.

  “Hey.”

  He blinks up at me, but his face takes several seconds to light up. “Hi.” Jett leans in and kisses me, but it’s the closest thing to a peck on the cheek we’ve ever exchanged.

  Stuart pulls the car away from the curb, and Jett looks back down at his phone, absently patting my nyloned thigh with one of his strong hands. I put one of mine over it.

  We ride two blocks in silence before I can’t stand it any longer.

  “Tough day at the office?”

  He shakes his head like he’s trying to break himse
lf out of his train of thought. “Not especially. We held a press conference today to put all that shit with LoveLink behind us.”

  “It didn’t go well?”

  “It went fine. Connor was the life of the party.”

  Connor is his CFO and a close friend. I looked up his picture online after Jett told me about him. To say “sexy All-American” would be the understatement of all-time.

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes.”

  Another silence. Jett looks out the window.

  I try telling him a joke. “Did I keep you up too late last night?”

  He attempts a half-smile while his eyes flicker back to me, then away. “Those three o’clock shenanigans disturbed my beauty sleep.”

  I intertwine my fingers with his and catch his eye. “I’m really sorry about that, Jett. I was trying my damnedest not to wake you up. There was nothing you could do.”

  When he answers, his voice has an edge to it. “I could have had Stuart drive you. I could have driven you myself.”

  “I was safe.”

  Lie. Charlie’s fingers around my upper arm left a faint bruise that thankfully escaped Jett’s notice.

  Jett sighs heavily. “You’re a grown woman. I’m just on edge because my accountant called today.”

  I look at him with eyebrows raised. “Connor?”

  “No, my personal accountant—a man named Jackson Cook. One of his people noticed something strange going on with several of my personal accounts.”

  My stomach churns like it’s filled to the brim with acid. It’s all I can do not to give myself away. “Strange how?”

  Jett shakes his head. “Small transactions, and lots of them, going from account to account. At first he thought it might be an automated investment program we set up last year, or that it might have been me making changes to the accounts without notifying him.”

  “That’s not the case?”

  “No.” He takes a deep breath. “It could be something going haywire with the automated investments, but Cook didn’t seem to think so.” Then he smiles at me, his teeth brilliantly white but his eyes still distracted. “We don’t have to spend the evening worrying about it. They’re investigating right now. I’m assuming they’ll be back with me in a couple of days at the latest.”