Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires #1) (3 page)

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.

Alexis

M
onday 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 wall 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.

Beneath it was a letter.

Swallowing, I slid the paper into view. The surface was smooth, a single word scrawled, hidden by the sweet treat: Pet.

Blushing, I lifted my head, eyeing the room. Had anyone seen this?
No. Laralie would have mentioned it.
She was nosy, so if
she
had said nothing...

Biting my tongue, I worked the envelope open. Inside, the same brand of paper I'd touched several times waited for me. It shone in the overhead lights.

Pet,

If you want this to end, the choice is yours. Throw out my next gift, and I'll bring this to a close.

Enjoy the cupcake.

—S

Shutting my eyes, I hung my chin low. The note was the first real evidence that made something abundantly clear. Something I'd denied again and again and again.

The gifts
were
meant for me!

Gripping my skirt, I pushed my shoulders into my ears. My muscles were bunching, trying to control the wild rush of heat and nerves that danced inside of me.

S hadn't made any mistakes. Whoever he was, and whoever he thought
I
was, this... all of this was for me.

I'm Pet.

Snapping my eyes open, I stared at the glimmering cupcake. The 'S' on top looked bigger, heavier than before.
This means he knows me. Do I know him?

Dammit. I really did have a secret admirer! But who? Who could it possibly be?

Warily, I peered side to side, expecting to find someone watching me. Even in this busy office, I was essentially ignored.

Caressing the card-stock, I folded it carefully. Next to me the trashcan sat, mouth wide and waiting. Throwing this all away—the letter, the cupcake—would take no effort. Who would know? Who would care?

My hand with the letter dipped low.

He would care.

I hesitated. The cupcake sat there, expectant.

Lifting the dainty, frosted dessert, I took a bite. Vanilla and sugar exploded on my tongue. It was better than any cupcake I'd ever had. Smooth, rich; I came close to rolling my eyes back in my skull.

With one last look at the trashcan, I squeezed the letter. It was proof that this game was being played with me.

With
me.

How could I end it, when I'd only just realized I was actually a player?

****

I
nside my locker was a single box. The sight of it ramped up my adrenaline. Had I really missed opening these things so much?

No. It was more than that.

For the first time, I knew this gift was
for me
. That gave the whole experience a new allure. My guilt was gone, the lead in my guts melting into butterflies. What I experienced now was genuine excitement.

Collecting the box, I drove home, trying not to break the speed limit.

It had been over a week since the last gift; the lingerie that I now regretted throwing in my trash. I consoled myself by saying I couldn't have known. This was an esoteric game, I'd never been involved in anything like it.

Casualties were bound to happen.

I had, however, kept the emerald earrings. They'd gone unnoticed in my car's cup-holder. I'd found them minutes ago when I'd set my coffee into the deep indentation, spilling some when it didn't settle right.

Crossing my living room, I dropped my coat and keys on the floor. I wasn't thinking about being tidy. Opening the package was an obsession, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Migrating into my kitchen, I scooted into a chair and placed the box on the round wooden table. Like most of my furniture, it served its purpose, but that was all I could ask of it.

Reaching down, I noticed my hands were quaking.
Easy, easy.
Laughing nervously, I made tight fists. When I peeled the tape away, my fingers still trembled.

The package split open, a heavy object tumbling onto the table. It was thick as a carrot, but shaped like some odd, swooping curve that tapered on one end, wide and blunt on the other.

Stroking the pliant, magenta surface, I blinked. “What the hell?” There was no one to answer my question. No one but S, perhaps.

Searching in the box, I found a note.

Pet,

This is a special, unique treat that I believe will bring you great pleasure.

Enjoy it to your heart's content. The idea of that will keep me very, very warm.