Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  I just waited. She'd finish when she was ready.

  Molly leaned forward, her eyes flashing. “She said that she’d heard I was doing sex shows and dirty movies on the side to make ends meet. Then she offered to help me out if I ever needed cash because I was such a sweet girl…I didn’t need to do that sort of thing for money. It wasn’t safe.”

  I gaped at her. “How did…what?”

  “You heard me.” She shrugged as if it didn't matter. “I’d freaked my old roommate out. She wasn’t comfortable with me being bisexual so she decided to tell weird stories about me. First, it went from me having orgies up to me being a stripper and then suddenly I was having gang-bangs and selling amateur sex videos.” She pushed her hair back. “The point is, I’d known all along she wasn’t comfortable with me after that night she walked in on me. I should have confronted her and dealt with it, then. I didn’t. But I did after that mess with Mrs. Hagerty. She tried to laugh it off like it was a joke, but then she spun me this crap about how if I slept with other women, she’s pretty sure I’d have to be involved in that other dirty stuff too. And oh…by the way, she’s not happy with me being her roommate and she has other people lined up, so how about me vacating…”

  “But…this apartment, isn't it in your dad’s name?”

  Molly grinned. “Yes. I booted her out on her ass.”

  I tipped my face back to the ceiling. “What a bitch,” I muttered. “Okay, so… A- if you were stripping for money, so what? That’s your concern. And B- it’s none of her business if you’re asexual, bisexual, trisexual, metrosexual or anything else.”

  “Damn straight.” Molly pursed her lips. “Trisexual, huh?”

  I snickered. Then, drawing my legs up, I hugged them to my chest. “Dominic’s not going to tell crap stories about me, Moll.”

  “No. But his mom might,” she said.

  Fuck. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed my forehead to my raised knees. I hadn’t even thought of that.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think that’s likely. She sounds too image conscious. She wouldn’t want the New York elite to know her precious baby slept with a girl like you.” Molly’s voice held enough scorn that it was clear what she thought of the word choice. “But that’s not the issue, honey. You won’t feel better until you confront him and deal with this. You need to find out why he just stood there and he needs to know that it hurt you.”

  She was right.

  A hollow empty ache spread through me and I started to rock myself slowly back and forth.

  After a moment, Molly came to sit beside me, curling her arm around me. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to.

  She was right. I had to go back.

  * * *

  Morning dawned cold and brittle and the sunlight had a sharp edge.

  That was rather how I felt. Cold, brittle and all sharp, jagged edges.

  I’d borrowed some of Molly’s clothes. We weren’t exactly the same size, but the nice thing about leggings was that they stretched and Molly had a couple long tunics that worked. Granted, the one I was wearing reached her knees and barely hit me mid-thigh, but I wasn't going to a club or anything. For this, it was fine.

  I called for a cab. Six weeks ago, I couldn’t have afforded it, but now I could. Of course, that could change in a blink. Most likely would change. I was trying to hope for a positive outcome, but I wasn't holding my breath.

  Molly came down with me and we stood chatting for the few minutes it took the cab to get there.

  As it pulled to the curb, I hugged her and she kissed my cheek.

  “It’ll be okay,” she said.

  “How can you be so sure about that?”

  “Because you’re tough and you’re going to make it okay,” she told me. “No matter how. You’ll make it okay for yourself. Call me when you need me.”

  I nodded and ducked inside the cab.

  She was already in her apartment building by the time the cab pulled away from the curb.

  I gave him the address and leaned back, my eyes closed as he moved into the light traffic.

  Most people heard a lot about New York City traffic. What people didn't hear so much about was that the traffic on the weekend wasn't all that bad. It was like half the population disappeared or went away for the weekend.

  It didn’t take much time to travel from Molly’s place to central Manhattan. I opened my eyes as we drew closer to the penthouse and stared up at the bright sparkling windows of the magnificent building as it jutted up into the sky.

  Sunlight bounced off the glass and I closed my eyes against the harsh glare.

  “Here we are,” the driver said. He recited the address to me, confirming we were at the right place.

  Without responding, I used my credit card to pay for the drive.

  It was odd how easily I’d adjusted to having money at my disposal. It could be gone in a blink. Soon, I'd find out whether or not I’d be going back to living on a shoestring budget.

  The doorman, Stuart, saw me the moment I started walking up to the building and his eyes widened. He came rushing toward me. “Miss Aleena! Mr. Snow has been worried sick. Where have you been?”

  At the sound of Dominic’s name, my heart lurched. “Out.” I kept my response short and sweet. Or maybe not so sweet, I decided after Stuart drew back at the abruptness of my voice.

  “Are you alright?” he asked softly, almost hesitantly.

  In a more moderate tone, I said, “I’m well enough. I had a rough couple of days.”

  I glanced upward, as though it would give me the answer to my next question. “Is he up there?”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “No. Mr. Snow went to the house in the Hamptons yesterday, thinking he might find you there. He has called several times asking if you’ve returned. I’ll call him and let him—”

  “No!” I snapped, my insides freezing at the thought of seeing him. I wasn't ready.

  Stuart went still. Then he looked away.

  He looked terribly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Miss Davison, but I must let him know you’re here. It was a direct order.”

  “An order,” I said slowly. Why wasn’t I surprised? I ran my tongue across my teeth and then nodded. “Fine.”

  Without another word, I walked inside.

  * * *

  The penthouse was quiet.

  It had been cleaned and put to rights and I stood there, inside the door, staring at the couch for a moment, in the same place Jacqueline had stood on Friday. I twisted a strand of hair around my finger, imagining I could hear the murmur of his voice in my ear, the way his fingers had tangled in my hair and tugged, my skin burning under the harsh impact of his hand after he’d spanked me.

  Then I went cold as I recalled his mother’s words.

  She might as well have backhanded me—it probably would have done less damage. Physical force was something I could have dealt with much easier. Hit her back, threaten to press charges. Ruin her precious reputation.

  But the cool disdain in her eyes?

  It hadn't even been hate.

  I could handle hate. That had been different. Like I wasn't even worth the effort to feel anything but disapproval. I'd been dismissed, brushed aside like I didn't matter.

  The sound of the phone ringing made me jump. I ignored it. I already knew who was calling. Just enough time had passed for Stuart to have spoken with Dominic and then for Dominic to have called the house phone.

  When I didn’t answer, I heard a faint beep.

  His voice came rolling out.

  It made me shiver.

  It also made me furious.

  “Aleena,” he said, his voice soft. “I know you’re there. Stuart called me…please answer.”

  “Not likely.”

  I shut the door behind me and calmly walked to my small apartment. Dominic continued to speak, but I deliberately blocked him out.

  When I got to my apartment, I groaned. My cell phone was in there.

  It was ringing now.
/>   I walked over, picked it up and turned it off.

  The phone beside the fat, comfortable armchair started to ring.

  I headed into the bathroom.

  I’d take a bath. There were no phones in the damn bathroom.

  But halfway there, I stopped.

  Dominic was probably on his way back here. I had a lock to my apartment, but I didn’t trust him not to let himself in and I wanted to be left alone. He and I could fight it out later…if he cared enough.

  For now, I needed time to clear my head.

  I scrawled a note on a piece of paper, taped it to my door and then went back inside. Then I took a long, slow look around my apartment. Finally, my gaze landed on the fat armchair.

  It would have to work.

  It fit, but just barely. The apartment’s entry way was small, forming an L shape that led into the living room. Sweating and out of breath, I stepped back and eyed the chair.

  If the penthouse caught on fire while I was in the bathroom, I was screwed.

  But I was willing to take that risk.

  Turning on my heel, I strode into the bathroom.

  Chapter Four

  Dominic

  The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

  It took me a moment to realize that she really wasn’t going to answer.

  Blowing out a controlled breath, I called Stuart.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “She didn’t leave again, did she?”

  Stuart hesitated for a moment before he finally answered, “Not by this door, sir. And I have been watching almost non-stop.”

  I wanted to tell him that wasn’t good enough, but I stopped myself. I wasn’t the only one who lived in the building.

  Forcing myself to count to ten, I checked the time. It would take another hour and a half to get there. There wasn’t much traffic, but I couldn’t make the distance any shorter. “How is she?”

  “Sir?”

  “Stuart, for fuck’s sake.” The past thirty plus hours had shattered my control. I was tired, my head hurt, I wanted some coffee and I hadn’t gotten around to taking a shower before Stuart had called and told me that Aleena was there. My mood was so far down below miserable, it wasn’t even funny. “How is she? Is she okay?”

  “No.” His voice was sharp.

  I’d known Stuart since I’d moved into the penthouse. He was a friendly kind of guy. When he’d shown me pictures of a round, chubby-cheeked newborn baby of indeterminate sex, I’d had Fawna send a gift to him and his wife. His wife had thanked me with chocolate chip cookies and he’d thanked me with a handshake and tears in his eyes that had left me feeling uncomfortable.

  And this was the first time I’d ever heard the first edge of disapproval in his voice.

  I knew he adored Aleena. Just about everybody who met her did and in that short, simple answer, I’d heard a hundred things.

  “She’s upset, isn’t she?”

  “It would seem so, sir.”

  Flexing my hands on the steering wheel, I focused on the road. I could fix this. My mother could be a bitch and I knew it, but I had to believe it wasn't too late. “Can somebody cover for you while you go check on her?”

  “It might be best, sir, if we give her some time alone.”

  “Dammit, Stu! She’s had the whole damn weekend!”

  There was another one of those faint pauses and then Stuart, his voice stiff and formal, replied. “Of course, sir. I’ll see to it.”

  He disconnected and I almost threw the phone out the window.

  There were times when I knew I was getting close to the line into serious asshole territory. The past couple days, I suspected I’d fallen clear over. And maybe crawled a couple feet further.

  * * *

  Ninety minutes could speed by if distracted, having fun or otherwise engaged.

  On the flip-side, ninety minutes could also last an eternity.

  I couldn't say the ninety minutes it took to get back to Manhattan that day were the longest ninety minutes of my life. After all, I’d spent a year in hell.

  But those minutes—actually, that entire weekend—had dragged by inexorably and by the time I arrived at the penthouse, I was so ramped up and ready to be done, I thought I’d go mad.

  Okay, Aleena. We’re having this out now, I thought grimly as I climbed out of the car. I rarely drove myself. I preferred to deal with business while somebody else handled the wheel, but this time around, I hadn’t wanted to wait for the driver. Nor had I had the patience for speed limits. Driving had been bad enough. If I'd had to sit in the back with nothing to do but wait, I would've screamed.

  Tossing my keys toward Stuart, I said, “She’s still here?”

  He nodded politely.

  He’d called twenty minutes after we’d spoken and informed me that Aleena had requested some time alone.

  Fine.

  She’d had it.

  We could discuss this like rational adults now.

  Rational, I told myself a few minutes later as I let myself inside. A quick look around told me Aleena wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen and the utter silence would have made me think she wasn’t even there, but I caught a faint noise coming from her personal apartment. She was here.

  Rational. Rational.... We’d be rational about it. We’d be rational and I’d be calm and I’d apologize for how my mother had acted and she’d understand and—

  “Son of a bitch,” I growled, snatching the note from the door.

  She’d written me a fucking note?

  D.

  I’m tired and need time to think. Please respect this. We can talk later.

  A.

  “Tired?”

  I wadded up the note and spun around, hurling across the wide, open steps that led down into the main area of the penthouse. She was tired?

  Did she have any idea what I’d been going through? How scared I’d been?

  I turned back and grabbed the doorknob, ready to force my way inside and demand she talk to me.

  Then, slowly, I let go.

  Staring at the door, I backed away.

  A memory of her face as she’d looked Friday night ran through my mind and I closed my eyes.

  Time.

  Yeah. Okay.

  I’d give her some time.

  Feeling like I’d aged a decade since I’d pulled my car up to the curb, I moved slowly down the steps and sat down, her door in view.

  I didn't move.

  I just sat there and listened.

  But other than the faint noise I could hear from her TV, I didn’t hear a single thing from Aleena’s apartment all night.

  Chapter Five

  Aleena

  My alarm blared Monday morning, not that I’d needed it.

  I hadn’t slept more than a few hours and I’d been awake since before four. I spent the hours dealing with email and trying to prepare myself for...something.

  That was the thing. I didn’t know what I was preparing myself for.

  We needed to talk and I knew it had to happen, but I wasn’t ready to do it before we went to work.

  So, we do it after.

  That decision made, I was ready a good thirty minutes earlier than normal and since I knew his schedule like the back of my hand, I planned my exit strategy to coincide with the time I knew he’d be showering.

  Part of me wished he’d be waiting for me.

  I even held my breath as I glanced around the wide-open area that was revealed as I came down the hall that led to the stairs. But he wasn’t there and I could faintly hear the low thrum of water.

  Immediately, there was an image on my mind of that long, golden body standing under a fall of water and my belly got all hot and tight, my nipples hardening as they rubbed against the silk of my bra.

  Before the water could shut off, I hurried down the stairs and slid out the front door.

  I was down in the quiet elegance of the lobby chatting with the morning doorman when Dominic called.

  “Where are you?” he d
emanded, his voice flat.

  “Downstairs, Mr. Snow,” I said calmly, although my heart skipped a few beats. “We’ve got a busy morning and I was going over a few things, checking on the delivery of the breakfast I ordered for the morning meeting and–”

  “Fine.” The word was clipped, followed by the sound of the call being cut off.

  He emerged from the elevator a few minutes later and I swallowed. Convulsively, I tightened my fingers on the strap of my bag. It was a tidy little affair that served as both purse and briefcase and just then, it kept me from reaching for him.

  “We need to talk,” he said, coming in close and taking up all of my personal space and then some.

  “I'm aware of that.” I managed a cool tone. “I just don't think this is the time.”

  “Oh?” That single syllable seemed to carry the perfect amount of curiosity and royal demand. I had the fleeting idea that a hundred, maybe two hundred years ago, he would have been perfectly at home striding down a street in London, perhaps Paris—old world aristocracy of course—clad in a coat of velvet with one of those ruffled shirts men used to wear, over a pair of tight trousers that ended in a pair of polished boots right up to his knees, giving orders naturally and watching as the peasants scrambled to obey. We were really from different worlds.

  As I looked away, Dominic reached up and brushed his thumb across my chin. “When is the time, Aleena?”