Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires #1) Read online

  He said she doesn't have his number.

  Too much of this was still a mystery.

  Part of me was glad he hadn't handed over his phone number. It meant I wasn't tempted to do what he'd said; take a photo in the outfit and—Stop, I chastised myself. You know that's wrong, plus you wouldn't have the guts. Besides, if you had his number, you could finally explain the mix up.

  Yes. Of course.

  Then everything would go back to normal.

  Smoothing my hair back, I sighed. Boring, but normal. Why did that feel so depressing suddenly? I wanted to stop the packages, or...

  I thought I did.

  Peering at the lingerie, I chewed my lip. This is a dangerous game. S could be anybody, Pet could be anybody. I was getting too deep into their little world, it wasn't meant for me. I should have thrown everything in the trash, or at least never opened the boxes.

  Why was resisting so hard?

  My heart thumped, and finally, I reached for the bustier.

  Under my palms, it was cool and luxurious. Helplessly, I rubbed it on my cheek. How much did this cost? I'd never gone inside a fancy lingerie store, just seen the occasional expensive bra while browsing the sale items at my local outlet mall.

  As I breathed in the clean scent of the material, I pictured—or tried to picture—this S as he shopped. Had he gone past the display window, then turned back for a closer look? Had he been out deliberately looking for lingerie?

  And... and what would it feel like, wearing this? Having him see me in it, aching to touch me while I longed to be touched? A shudder rolled down to my toes.

  Standing, I hurried to my bedroom.

  Don't do this, I told myself. It was futile; I already had my jeans around my ankles. Tossing my plain clothes aside, I eagerly slid the bustier over my head. Every place it touched brought bliss. My cells woke with excitement.

  Whatever resistance I had vanished. It was as if the lingerie was pouring over my skin, milk into a glass, a thick coating that made my tongue tingle and my eyes flutter. It drifted over my hips, tickling my flesh.

  It took me a second or two to figure out the garters, but when I did, I was delighted. They held the lace-topped leggings in place, the silk encasing my thighs tightly. It was an intimate embrace, stroking my arousal.

  Peeling the panties upwards, I couldn't help but imagine they were being tugged onto me by someone else. Someone with calm, controlling muscles... someone who knew what he wanted and was determined to show me.

  When the panties cupped my pussy, I breathed out sharply. My pulse went into overdrive. I was doing exactly what he'd said. That thrilled me in a way I couldn't describe. I was peering into a perverse new world.

  Catching a glimpse of myself in my full-length mirror, I froze.

  The person looking back wasn't me. She was elegant, flaring with heat and eager to be touched. This was no shrinking, mousy girl, this...

  This is wrong.

  Blushing, I hurried to take everything off. I fumbled with the garters, toppling onto my bed in my panic. Get it all off! The backs of my eyes throbbed. Why did I think this was okay?

  Every piece of clothing crumpled to the rug. Breathing heavily, I let the clean air rake over my naked skin. I'd been sweating, hot from the inside of my core.

  In the mirror, I saw the confusion in my wide eyes. Yes. This girl looked more like me.

  Baffled, lost.

  Pathetic.

  Ruffling my hair, I eyed the outfit as if it was made of acid. It had felt so good to wear it, but the fantasy wasn't meant for me. Dipping into this private world that existed between two strangers, it was horrible.

  As I hugged myself tight, flooding with shame over my actions, I couldn't deny the other feeling inside of me. Something crisp and wild that grew day by day.

  Even if I knew this was wrong, and even if I admonished myself for going so far...

  I anticipated the next gift more than ever.

  - Chapter Three -

  Alexis

  “Those are lovely earrings.”

  My head snapped up, fingers touching my ears reflexively. Against the soft pads of my fingertips, the silver edges felt like barbed wire.

  I knew I shouldn't have worn them, I just... I couldn't resist. I'd gotten so bad at controlling my impulses these days.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, forcing a smile.

  The cashier nodded, perhaps noticing my unease—perhaps not. “Where did you get them?”

  My heart stopped. “Uh.” What do I say? “Well...” Shit shit shit. Her question was innocent, but it forced me to remember how awful I was behaving. Where had I gotten these earrings?

  I could never explain.

  “They were a gift,” I mumbled, face red and hot.

  “Oh, lucky you,” she chuckled. “Someone is generous.”

  My smile was brittle. “Yeah. Right.”

  She finished bagging my groceries, and I was just as quick to pay and leave.

  Stupid, I told myself, tossing the food into my car's backseat. You should have known better than to wear these out. Or to wear them at all!

  Settling into the car, I looked in my rear view mirror. This jewelry, it drew every eye—just like S had said it would. Once upon a time, I hadn't been so nervous about standing out in a crowd. It's funny how things change.

  Or what changes us.

  Don't think about that. You can't go down that road.

  The past is a painful, vulnerable place. I preferred to avoid it.

  I started the car, then paused. None of the gifts I kept receiving belonged to me. Never mind how illegal it was that I was opening these packages, what about all the moral codes I was breaking?

  Setting my jaw tight, I pulled the earrings off and put them in my cup-holder. Removing them made me feel both lighter... and somehow more deflated.

  This has to end. No more playing around. It didn't matter if I liked the gifts, my reality was clear as ice; none of this generosity was meant for me.

  Playing pretend had to end. I couldn't return the gifts, but I didn't have to take them home with me. No one could force me to be involved in this whole mess.

  I'm in control of my life. I need to remember that. I turned my radio up louder. Crushing the wheel, I steered my car towards my house. I don't have to be so passive!

  Yes. I could do this.

  I could turn the gifts away.

  Who the hell was going to stop me?

  I dropped my groceries off at home, checking the time as I did so. Need to hurry and get to work. Untangling my hair, I headed into my bedroom to find a change of clothes. Flipping through the racks of basic blouses and pants, I slid the hangers sideways.

  In the far corner of my closet, a flash of red called to me. Briefly, I eyed the dresses that hung in the shadows. It was amazing that I had kept those for so long. They were from another time.

  Quickly, I snatched an opal colored blouse and long skirt from the closet. Safe and bland—it was appropriate for my office job. Hoisting the clothing high, I twisted around. My toe caught in the mess on my floor, nearly tripping me.

  Scowling, I straightened and eyed my unorganized bedroom. I really needed to clean up. Scanning the small space, my attention fell on the full laundry basket, the half-open wardrobe, the cluttered floor.

  And then I saw it.

  Shivering, I eyeballed the lingerie with both envy and unease. The silky material was flooding me with too many emotions. I couldn't bury the delicious memory from just the other night of how it had felt to wear the outfit.

  Inching forward, I hesitated. No. Don't do this. My fingers clenched in the air. Think about what you decided. Did you forget so easily?

  Right. My decision.

  Gritting my teeth, I snatched up the lingerie with clawed fingers. Then, I stomped out of the room, not slowing until I shoved the beautiful clothing into my kitchen trash. When it was out of my grip, I leaned on the counter, breathing heavily.

  I was proud of myself.

/>   I also couldn't shake the cloying sensation that I'd wasted something wonderful.

  No. I lifted my chin high. This is how it has to be.

  Seeing the lingerie had nearly spiraled me into trying it on again. Or, at least, made me want to hide it in my dresser and never lose it.

  Pushing a hand to my chest, I endured my throbbing heart. My abrupt laughter startled me. Am I that worked up over this? I'm ridiculous. I'd turned a small problem into a huge deal.

  My mother would have called me dramatic.

  And maybe she'd have been right.

  Glancing at the clock, I winced. And now I'm going to be late for work. Great.

  Stripping quickly, I pulled on my plain outfit and scrambled out the front door.

  ****

  I managed to bury myself in work for the next few days.

  It was easy enough; the place was buzzing as we prepared for a new magazine launch, and I had loads of papers to catch up on. For a little while, my mind was free from stress.

  By the time I finally got the courage to return to the post office, it was Thursday. I'd never gone so long without checking my mail, but I just couldn't handle the anxiety over what I might find.

  In the end, my nerves about forgotten bills or other important documents forced my hand.

  Pushing into the tiny, faded building, I side-eyed my locker with growing unease. But this had to be done. Just get it over with. I couldn't keep hiding from my own mailbox forever. What an idea.

  Steeling myself, I gripped the handle, slid my key inside, and cracked the door gently. Unfortunately, the pressure of the contents finally being freed meant that no matter how quiet I tried to be, the boxes and papers still exploded to the floor.

  I shouted, stepping back with a wince. Not surprisingly, every customer stared my way.

  I was becoming the local clown.

  The packages spilled like rain; angry, bloated rain. In just five days, S had stuffed my locker with an assortment of presents.

  A gangly young man in a postal uniform came my way. His brow was knotted, eyes darting from me, to the mess, and back again. “Are you alright?”

  On reflex, I shook my head side to side. Then I cleared my throat. “Uh, fine. Just fine.” I motioned helplessly at the boxes. “I didn't expect so much mail.”

  “That's not all of it,” he said, flinching at my wild eyes. Nodding towards the counter, he shrugged. “Couldn't keep shoving it inside. There's a bin in the back with about four more packages. Want me to—”

  “No.” I cut him off, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. “No, I don't want any of it. In fact, I'd like you...” I stared at his name tag. “Kerie—or whoever else—to stop putting unaddressed mail in my locker.”

  Kerie scratched the side of his neck. “What should we do with all of it?”

  Gathering up the mess, I grunted as I stood. “Throw it out. That's what I'm doing, anyway.” I turned, shuffling out of the building with great strides.

  Approaching the dumpster out back, I threw everything into it with a grunt. The boxes rattled inside, joining the refuse. I was tired of being responsible for someone else's game.

  Hopefully, he'd get the message that he had the wrong target. S needed to find his original play-thing, whoever she was.

  Dusting my hands off, I walked to my car and glorified in my decision to get out of this weird pen-pal exchange. Was it really pen-pal, if I could never reply?

  Would I have replied?

  Biting my tongue, I jumped into my car and fled the scene. I drove as if everything might explode behind me, some violent fireball from an action movie.

  I'd made my choice.

  No one could stop me.

  Not even him.

  - Chapter Four -

  Alexis

  Monday arrived, just as wet as the rest of the weekend had been.

  The rain had been coming down all morning. I'd been smart enough to bring an umbrella, the purple material turning slick from the downpour. Even so, as I darted across the parking lot and into my workplace, I couldn't avoid the puddles.

  Observing my soaked ankles and flats in dismay, I hurried through the doors and sighed. Did that dumb orange cat really have to be right about Mondays?

  The downtown building was large, brushing the clouds where it stood. Inside, multiple businesses rented sections for their own purposes. The tiny plaque inside the elevator indicated my destination—the twentieth floor.

  Fixing my frizzy hair, I stepped into the publishing house of Salvador and Goldheart.

  The wide room was a crisp eggshell color, dotted with overly green plants; most were fake. The soft hum of people flipping papers or talking about current projects was a constant white noise.

  If I looked closely, I could see many of my fellow employees were half-asleep in their chairs. We ran the fashion magazine known as Velcro. I mean, as a secretary, I didn't exactly run much of anything. Not my dream job... but it kept me busy, and it helped pay my bills. What else mattered?

  “Oh, Alexis!” Laralie was dressed in her usual style; tight black hose, red pumps, and a skirt that hugged her curves in a way I envied. She eyed my muddy ankles pointedly. “Still raining?”

  Grinning good-naturedly, I shook my umbrella out. She stepped back, making sure she didn't get splattered. “Yeah,” I said. “Still pretty wet. What's going on?”

  Running her fingers through her short, angular black hair, she nodded over her shoulder. “You've got to come see! You're a little late, but I'm sure there are some left.”

  “Some left? Some of what?” Draping my coat on the back of my chair, I glanced at the phone. I was relieved nothing blinked at me; no missed calls. “I should really get to work, Mr. Salvador will lose his mind if he doesn't see me sitting here when he shows up.”

  “He's already here.” She ignored my look of fright. Beaming, she gripped my elbow and tugged. “Just come on! Some food would be good for you. Unless you already ate?”

  On cue, my stomach rumbled. “This is about food? Alright, you win.” I hadn't eaten breakfast, so if there was something waiting for me, how could I turn it down?

  Following her through the office, we took a sharp turn into the backroom. It was where we ate our lunches if we decided not to brave the busy streets of downtown Portland.

  Laralie was blocking my view, so I couldn't see what was resting on the round table. I did spot the three other women who were hanging out and chatting, their hands gripping what looked like paper liners.

  The vanilla scent was hitting me hard, my stomach cramping with hunger. I realized what they were eating; cupcakes. “Is it someone's birthday?”

  Trying to make room for me to pass, Laralie said, “Don't think so. No one's sure who brought them.”

  “What?” I asked. “I don't get it, how can no one know—” My words died on my tongue.

  Stuffed inside a large pink box were five cupcakes. There had clearly been more, but even with the empty spots, the display looked decadent.

  They were squat, fat little things topped by metallic frosting. I'd never seen such beautiful designs on a cupcake before. The paper wrappings glowed, brilliant as moonlight.

  On top of every cupcake was a small, elegant letter S.

  “Don't they look beautiful?” someone said. It was hard to hear them, my ears felt swamped with water.

  “Alexis?”

  In a daze, I looked over to find Laralie staring at me. Her pretty blue eyes were wide with concern. “Alexis, are you okay? You look pale. Here, eat something!”

  She offered me a cupcake, and I nearly slapped it from her grip. “Sorry!” I stammered, hands held high. “I don't—I mean—” My skull was pulsing, pushing my eyes forward so they bulged.

  Laralie frowned, lowering the cupcake. “Maybe you should get some air.”

  Grabbing the door-frame, I nodded. “Yes. Air. Right.” With a nervous look at everyone watching me, I darted out of the room. My flats were damp; I slipped on the tiles, grabbing onto the wal
l to stay upright.

  Calm down! Just relax!

  But how could I?

  It was one thing to find mistaken packages in my mailbox. Here, where I worked... what did it mean?

  Laralie was right, I needed air. I needed to think. None of this made sense. S must have noticed I wasn't taking the gifts, which I'd wanted. But instead of giving up and finding the right person's address, he'd sent something here.

  But it's not meant for me. It isn't. It just can't be.

  The elevator 'dinged.' The doors spread, but I didn't step inside. The cupcakes are for someone else. I kept clinging to that as a fact. And since it had to be true, it meant one of my coworkers was Pet!

  The idea left my stomach in knots. I'd expected relief, but instead, I wasn't sure how to feel. Holding my temples, I chuckled—a tired, exasperated release. I am so ridiculous. This isn't about you.

  Latching onto the idea that S was trying to get in touch with someone else—someone who just happened to work here—gave me a funny feeling. I felt less pressure.

  I also felt a gnawing sensation around my heart.

  The reality was this; no one would ever go to such lengths for me. Not boring, plain, keeps-to-herself Alexis Willow. I was a nobody, and nobodies slid under the radar.

  I'd made sure of that.

  S was after someone in my office. His options were bountiful. Laralie was gorgeous and fun, Heather was a blonde from Editing that had our male coworkers swooning. Even Denise, who mostly sat in on meetings and just nodded, like she was important, was worthy of a secret admirer.

  Yes, I thought, crossing the room towards the solitary, wide desk that belonged to me. Sometimes a coincidence is just that. Sliding into my chair, I gave a half-spin, working so hard to ease my mood. Smile, I told myself. Cheer up, stop moping. Life was normal—my kind of normal. Boring and dull, but safe.

  Safe was what I was looking for.

  As I faced the room, settling in to check my email, my eyes caught something glinting. It drew me down, yanked at my center until my stomach was flipping, my mouth dry and electric.

  Impossible.

  I told my brain this, but it didn't matter.

  On my desk sat a single cupcake.