Taming the Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle

by Sierra Rose

  “Really?” He slumped against the counter with obvious disappointment. “Bags?”

  “Not bags,” I corrected, “purses.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “A bag is something you use to haul around make-up and phones.”

  “...and a purse?”

  “A purse is something you use to carry make-up and phones. There’s refinement.” He chuckled softly as I picked one up to examine it, looking it over with a practiced eye. “This one might actually be big enough for my entire laptop...”

  “No—come on!” He stood up suddenly. “A work purse? That’s what you’re choosing?”

  I glanced up in surprise.

  “...yes? Why does that matter?”

  “Because it’s boring!”

  “It’s useful!” I shot back. “I’ll use it every day!”

  A timid-looking Ruby appeared from nowhere and ventured in between us.

  “More champagne?” she offered.

  We downed another two flutes and sent her on her way.

  “Fine,” Nick glared, “I’ll get the damn purse.”

  He snatched it out of my hands and stormed away. But he didn’t head back towards the front counter to pay. Instead, he started winding in a circuitous path around the entire store.

  “Damn it to hell—Nick!”

  I hurried after him, as fast as my borrowed heels could take me.

  He was in the shoe section now, looking over the rows of heels with the bored, yet practiced eye of a man who had grown up in high society.

  The second I rushed around the corner, he seized me up and down with the suddenly-not-bored, and practiced eye of a man who had slept with a great many women.

  “What are you? A six? Six and a half?”

  What the fuck kind of voodoo skill was that?!

  “Why does it matter?” I panted, breathless from the chase. “I already picked out the purse. It’s price equivalent. Let’s go.”

  He completely ignored me, focused on my feet. For a second, it looked like he was about to tear them off and just check for himself, then his face illuminated with a sudden realization.

  “Those are Gemma’s shoes. She was a size six.”

  All at once, the hunt was on. His eyes swept up and down the rows as he marched between them, dismissing each one of them at a glance. I rushed after him, confused as hell and starting to feel a little dizzy from the champagne.

  “Seriously Nick, what are you—”

  “Aha!”

  With a look of great triumph, he reached down and extracted a shimmering pair.

  I had truly never seen anything like them. You hear about gladiator sandals, but never gladiator stilettos. At least...not like this.

  The sides of them were inlaid with the same miniature crystals that had been sewn into my gown. But instead of glistening innocently in a pattern, they swooped up with a sudden streak of jagged light that I was sure would stretch all the way up my calf. They were kept in place by a series of silken straps, so thin, that all you could see were the gemstones. The heel itself was a weapon. A knife-like point so high, it might have brought Nick and me up to the same height.

  “What do you think?” he asked eagerly.

  There was that doting look again. I’d seen it so many times. But why the fuck was he using it on me? Had it really been so long since Gemma? Or Anya? Or whoever came next?

  “I think...” I stepped forward, laying a hand on the display case to steady myself. Two glasses of champagne? Hadn’t I said the limit was one? My eyes widened as I saw the price. “I think they’re two thousand dollars!”

  Nick blinked. Not at all following. When I stayed incredulously quiet, he asked again.

  “Yeah—but about the shoes? What do you think about the shoes? Do you like them?”

  “Have you completely lost your mind?”

  He paused. Then smiled.

  “That’s a yes.”

  And just like that—he was off. Both the shoes and the purse draped over his arm.

  Come out with me, he said. I just want to apologize, he said.

  THE MAN HAD GONE ROGUE!

  “Nicholas!” I hissed, as he circled back to the lingerie.

  There were quiet snickers coming from the saleswomen gathered behind the desk. No doubt they thought we were having some sort of lover’s quarrel. The only thing that confused them was why I would be here in person. Nick usually shopped for his women alone. And his women certainly wouldn’t have put up a fuss about the things he was choosing.

  “How about this?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks, as he held up an ensemble so sparse and sexually inviting, that I literally glanced around for the hidden cameras. Surely this was a joke, right?

  “I’m sure Anya, or Claudia, or Sophia, or Olivia would all love it.” My cheeks flushed as the saleswomen giggled even louder. “Put it the fuck down, Nick.”

  But Nick was his father’s son, whether he liked it or not. He was born to take the things he wanted. He was born to do this at all costs.

  Rule number one: never admit guilt.

  “This?” He jiggled the hanger with a little smile. “This is not my fault.”

  “Oh really.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I couldn’t wait to hear how he tried to get out of this one. “And how do you figure?”

  His handsome face shone with self-righteousness.

  “You were the one who picked that terrible bag.”

  “Purse,” I corrected, rubbing my temples.

  “That terrible bag which couldn’t be more than twenty bucks—tops.”

  Twenty bucks?!

  “Nick—it is several hundred dollars.” I couldn’t have stressed the word more. “That’s why I picked it. We agreed this was supposed to be price comparable, right?”

  He nodded curtly.

  “That’s what I’m doing. Honoring our professional arrangement.”

  A sarcastic bout of laughter burst out of me, as I gestured to the lingerie.

  “And what about that is possibly professional?”

  Both of our eyes swept over the laced bra, for a moment. The black satin straps that hung down. Connecting to a thong. Connecting to a garter. Connecting to something else that...well honestly, I’m not even sure what it was. At some point, it could have been footies.

  Nick faltered for only a moment, before regaining his perfect composure.

  “I’m glad you asked. The thing that’s professional about this, is the price.” He lifted his chin proudly. “It’s a little over a hundred dollars. Bringing us closer and closer to our goal.”

  There was a burst of laughter from the front of the store, and I shot a furious glare over my shoulder before turning that glare back to him.

  “A hundred dollars?” I stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Let me see.”

  In one fluid motion, he ripped off the tag and stuffed it into his pocket. If I’d really pressed him, I’m sure he would have swallowed the damn thing.

  “Sorry,” he said dryly. “Reflex. Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

  To trust him.

  I took a step back, and for a moment, everything paused.

  “What are you doing?”

  Over the last ten minutes, I’d asked the question a million times. But this time, it came out completely different. No banter. No games. We were talking about thousands of dollars here. It didn’t matter if that was pocket change to him, it was still a hell of a lot of money. The kind of money that shouldn’t be spent on employees, no matter how good of friends they might be.

  Nick’s playful smile vanished for a moment, replaced with something almost shy.

  Shy. From a man who didn’t know the definition of the word.

  This, more than anything else, stopped me dead in my tracks.

  “Just...let me.”

  There was no entrapping debate this time. No tricks or champagne. Just a simple request.

  Let me.

  Chapter 10

  WE
STARED AT EACH OTHER for a long moment, gazing appraisingly into each other’s eyes. It was a look we had shared countless times before. Times when we were measuring each other’s opposition to an idea. Measuring each other’s intoxication. Measuring each other’s willingness to participate in either a PR venture, or a whimsical, hair-brained scheme.

  It had never been quite like this. Truth be told, it had never even come close. But no matter his intentions now, the age-old question remained: When had I ever refused him?

  “Alright, but that’s enough.”

  He thrilled, then hesitated. Wedging his bets. Probably thinking about the word compromise for the first time in his life. Weighing its merits.

  He clearly didn’t like it.

  “Abby, we are friends, are we not?”

  I studied him cautiously as some of the previous tension began to melt away. There was a little dimple forming in the corner of his cheeks, and those twinkling eyes worked even better than the booze. The accent was a lilting as ever.

  “Yes...we’re friends.”

  He nodded seriously, then held up the things he’d collected.

  “Well as your friend, I cannot allow you to walk outside like this.” He glanced over each of them in turn. “In nothing but a garter, a purse, and some shoes? How could I?”

  I dropped my head with an exasperated smile, covering my face in my hands.

  “Nick—”

  “One: you’d surely freeze to death. Probably before we got to the next hotdog stand, and I do really want a hotdog. Two—and this can’t be overstated: you are going to attract men if you go outside like that. Lots of men. Too many to count, and lord knows I can’t fight all of them off by myself. Truth be told—I’ll probably be one of them.”

  I shook my head, lips pursed as he stared back with coaxing smile.

  “So...please? Let a guy buy you a dress?”

  My chest tightened in dismay, as I glanced automatically over towards the gowns. Now he wanted to buy a whole other dress? How much was this going to end up costing?

  “I promise not to make you jump in a fountain...”

  Okay—even I had to grin at that one.

  “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

  He threw back his head and laughed, grabbing me by the arm once more as he snapped his fingers for more champagne. A second later, we clinked glasses and cheers’d again. This time, to nothing really in particular.

  “You know,” Nick glanced over with a smile, as we wandered back towards the front of the store, “you’re the only girl I’ve ever met who would call me a dick for buying you shoes.”

  I considered this for a moment, grabbing his arm as I swayed with a bit of a buzz.

  “Well, the girls you like...they like to be taken care of.”

  Yeah—there was a definite buzz. I never would have said that otherwise.

  He glanced down in surprise, keeping his arm steady for me all the while.

  “And you don’t?”

  There wasn’t an ounce of slur to his voice. After years and years of diligent practice, Nick had the tolerance of an Irish sailor. It would take more than champagne to unsteady him.

  Again, I considered the question thoughtfully.

  “I would I guess...I’m just proud of being able to take care of myself. In the neighborhood where I grew up—that wasn’t the easiest thing for a woman to claim.”

  He looked at me seriously for a moment, and my cheeks flushed crimson at having given something so personal away. His lips parted to reassure me, but sensing my discomfort, he lightened the mood instead with a joke.

  “I can imagine that it must have been tough. I hear that Brooklyn’s mostly an agrarian society...”

  I snorted with laughter as we came to a stop in the middle of the gowns.

  There were so many shapes and sizes. So many colors, and cuts, and fabrics—I had no idea where I’d even start to look.

  But Nick seemed to have a very good idea. In fact, from the way he made a beeline for a specific one, I was willing to bet he’d had his eye on it from the moment we came in.

  I couldn’t help but watch as his fingers slid the zipper down the mannequin’s back. The expert way he eased the sleeves off its shoulders before pulling the whole thing over its head.

  Talk about a specific skill set.

  There was a soft gasp, as behind me, the saleswomen were doing the exact same thing.

  By now, the alcohol had taken firm effect and I was curious. Unlike the rest of his selections, Nick didn’t hold this one up for approval. Instead, he’d slipped it discreetly into the purse—shielding it from view.

  “Well?” I asked with a little grin. “Can I see it?”

  He shook his head firmly.

  “Nope. It’s a surprise.”

  I must admit, I was a bit crestfallen.

  “What?” I took a step forward. “Why? Just let me—”

  “Not a chance.” He held the purse out of reach, looking down with a smile. “You’re going to have to wait.”

  I surrendered easily enough and followed him to the counter.

  “Wait for what?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, grinning at my petulant tone.

  “For the rest of the apology.”

  That was enough to shake me from my intoxicated stupor.

  “The rest of the apology?” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Nick, this is so much more than enough. Surely even you can see that.”

  “Actually...” he came to a stop in front of the jewels, “it needs one more thing.”

  By now, I didn’t even try to fight it. I just stood there quietly as he pursed his lips and looked over each piece in their collection with a slight frown. Occasionally, he would hold something up to me, but each time, he put it back down without a word.

  ...until he got to the necklace.

  “This.” His eyes glowed as he picked it up. “This is the one.”

  My lips opened, then closed. No words could come.

  It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful necklace I’d ever seen. It was long. Overly-long, in the style of 1920’s flappers. But instead of a string of pearls, this was a chain of diamonds. The thing sparkled like you wouldn’t believe. Dropping almost down to my navel, before ending in a teardrop-shaped pendant that was as big as my thumb.

  “Mr. Hunter,” Ruby gasped. “It’s absolutely stunning. The finest piece in the store.”

  Nick ignored her and turned to me instead.

  “What do you think?” he asked softly. “Do you like it?”

  I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to tell him it was obviously too much, that this entire spree had been kindhearted but confusing as shit, and walk right out of the store.

  But the words ‘too much’ had never really registered with Nick. He wanted to do something nice to apologize. He was staring deep into my eyes.

  In the end, I pulled in a breath and did the one thing that people who work in PR are never supposed to do.

  I told the truth.

  “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  A beaming smile spread across his face—a smile I’d never seen before. It wasn’t bored, or mischievous, or amused, or anything else I’d come to associate with Nick.

  It was sincere. A soft kind of radiant that seemed to glow from the inside-out.

  “Then it’s yours.”

  Chapter 11

  BY THE TIME WE EMERGED from the store, the afternoon sun had already risen high in the sky. We got hotdogs from a nearby stand—just as Nick had requested—and ate them in silence on a bench in Central Park. Watching the pedestrians. Tossing bread to the pigeons.

  Neither one of us had really said much since the moment with the necklace. And while this silent, over-analytical tendency was completely normal for me, it couldn’t have been any less so for Nick. The man didn’t have an ‘off’ switch. Truth be told, the only times I could remember him being silent, were when he was sleeping.

  Several times, he glanced ov
er at me. Several times, he glanced down at the Dior bag by our feet. Each time, he was either unwilling or unable to speak.

  When he finally did say something, it was the last thing I ever expected to hear.

  “So,” he began softly, “do you have a list of names for me?”

  For one of the first times in my professional life, I blanked.

  “I’m sorry,” I sat up a little straighter, trying to catch up, “names?”

  His face tightened for a second, then smoothed clear.

  “Of girls. Girls the company would approve of. Girls you think I should date.”

  It was all I’d wanted that morning—to hear him say those words. To ask that question. I would have given anything I had just to make it so. But now?

  For some reason, it made my skin go cold.

  “Oh. Right.” I dropped my eyes down to my lap, before forcing them back up. “Yeah, we should talk about that.”

  The hotdog wrappers were thrown away. The Dior bag was slid out of sight.

  “We could go one of two ways,” I said slowly, trying to will away the lingering alcohol so I could think clearly. “Either find someone you already like and know—someone that would make the board breathe easier, or...” I trailed off, unable to say the rest.

  Nick cocked his head curiously to the side.

  “Or?”

  I glanced at him apologetically, already anticipating the fall-out.

  “Or...we could find a complete stranger. Someone that could use the exposure, and would be using you, just as much as you used them. Happens in PR all the time.”

  He didn’t say anything, and I moved quickly forward—dismissing the idea almost as quickly as I’d introduced it in the first place.

  “But that’s probably a bad call. It has the benefit of keeping things strictly professional, but in doing so, I’m sure it would get terribly awkward. You’d be faking every kiss, every intimate moment caught on camera. Whereas with someone you already knew, there would at least be a personal aspect to it, and you wouldn’t have to pretend—”

  “Let’s go with a stranger.”

  I came up suddenly short, glancing up in surprise. My tablet—which I’d pulled out the second we started ‘talking shop’ paused on a list of Nick’s ex-girlfriends, freezing them in place.