The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 1) (4 page)

“It isn’t, but it’s a tool I can use to my advantage.
Our
advantage,” he amended. “This will be advantageous for both of us.”

“I’m all for you being in position of CEO, Reese; you know I am. This is your destiny. Your legacy. The board is making a mistake if they look elsewhere,” Tag said.

“I appreciate that,” Reese said, meaning it. The Crane men had always stuck together. His youngest brother may ride his ass on occasion, but in the clutch, Tag had his back.

“But,” Tag continued, his tone cautious, “blackmail is low, bro.” He finally stood, slowly, then crossed his arms over his chest. Tag was taller than Reese or Eli, standing close to six-five. Massive shoulders, huge arms, and tree-trunk legs came from their father’s side, the towering height from their mother’s father. Granddad Weller was huge. Eli and Reese liked to give Tag a hard time about his hair, but Tag refused to cut it. Either he had a Samson complex or he liked looking like a beached merman, it was hard to say.

“It’s not blackmail. It’s proper motivation.”

Tag swept the legal pad off the desk, not a word written on it. Reese had no idea why he brought a pad to meetings except that maybe he thought it made him look like he fit here and not on a biplane in a jungle. Tag scrubbed a hand over his heavy facial hair. “I’m going to grab a burger. You?”

Reese shook his head. He’d eat at his desk like he did every day. Didn’t keep Tag from asking. Which he appreciated. As brothers who were musketeers at heart, none of them would ever let the other one remain in solitude.

“I need to make a few phone calls,” Reese said as he opened the door.

“Guess so,” Tag said, walking out ahead of him; then he threw over his shoulder, “You have a wedding to plan and a bride to propose to. In that order.”

T
hanks, Heather,” Merina said to the Van Heusen’s new bartender-slash-waitress as she headed out the door. Flame, the restaurant in the Van Heusen, hadn’t been terribly busy tonight, but Heather had handled the bar by herself, and given that she’d only been working for the VH for two weeks, Merina was suitably impressed.

Nearly a week had passed since she’d barged into Reese Crane’s office, and neither she nor her parents, as far as she knew, had heard from him again.

After she’d left the hotel’s doorknob on Reese’s desk, Merina had stomped back into the VH, snatched a few towels off a passing cart, and gone into her office. After snagging a sweater off a hook on the wall and putting it on, she went to her mother’s office, only to find her father in there, too, leaning over the computer.

Merina hadn’t given them a chance to acknowledge her before she started in on them.

“How could you keep something like this from me?” she’d asked while wringing her hair in the towel.

Her father had straightened and held up a hand. “Honey, take a breath.”

“I can’t take a breath. I can’t even think! You sold the hotel without telling me? How much financial strain were you under? Did you consider asking me for help? How could you go outside the family with this?”

When her emotions got the best of her and tears welled in her eyes, her father eased her down on the sofa in her mother’s office and they flanked her on either side.

Then they told her how things had snowballed into an avalanche.

Her father, Mark, had insisted on doing the financials himself and had overlooked many opportunities for write-offs over the years. The new accounting firm discovered back taxes they owed. Then there were the repairs needed. An inspection that didn’t go well. A recent turnover in employees because a guy had stolen money from the restaurant cash register. Add in her father’s recent hospital expenses and it was a recipe for desperation.

“Big Crane was willing to buy it,” Mark had told her, one arm solidly around her back. “As it stood, we would have had to put thousands into it just to sell. And your mother and I would likely be out of jobs.”

“But you’ll be out of jobs soon!” Merina huffed her frustration. “And so will I.”

Her parents hadn’t known that part, which made her feel moderately better—at least they hadn’t kept that from her too.

“I spoke with him,” Merina had confessed. “He won’t fire me immediately.” She didn’t know if that was true, but she intended to speak with him further about it. Next time with a dry shirt.

That day she’d wanted so badly for her parents to share in her outrage. Instead her mother had encouraged her in her typical glass-half-full way by saying, “You’re young, you’re brilliant, and we have faith that you’ll find where you belong, even if it isn’t here.”

Which made her suspect they were resigned to their plight.

Merina paced through the barren restaurant now, her mind latched onto the past. Reese had made it clear to her he wasn’t keeping any of them. Not her parents, not Merina, and she guessed the rest of the building’s loyal staff would be in danger of losing their jobs too.

She wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d forgotten about their discussion, but there were no further e-mails or appointments, and the locksmith had replaced the card reader on the hotel room door, only now there was a mismatched doorknob instead of the one she’d gifted to Crane.

No construction workers in hard hats had shown up to destroy the building during that week, so for that, she was grateful. The more Reese Crane dragged his heels, the more time she had to come up with a solution to save her job and the hotel from being turned into a glass shrine.

She flipped the sign around at the threshold of Flame so that it read
CLOSED
as her cell phone chimed. A text at one a.m.? Had to be Lorelei. Maybe back from a horrific date and ready to share all the gory details. Lore knew Merina didn’t go to sleep until three, sometimes four. But a glance at the screen showed that it wasn’t her best friend, but an unknown number.

Call me if you’re awake.

“Sorry, creeper,” she said as she pocketed her phone. “I’m not playing this game.” Before she stepped into the lobby, though, her phone chimed again. She dug it out of her pocket.

Reese Crane.

Her heart lifted to her throat. Reese Crane was texting her? He’d ignored her for the last week while she tried not to fret over whether he’d roll a wrecking ball down Rush Street for a surprise hotel smashing, and now he was
texting her
? She stared at the seven words on her screen as if she might consider responding.

Which of course she wouldn’t.

What if he’d changed his mind about the Van Heusen? About keeping Merina on as manager?

Don’t be ridiculous.

That’s not what he wanted. The man was an arrogant, pompous jerk who didn’t have any reason to contact her unless he wanted to twist the knife. He could call her during normal business hours.

But even as the thought occurred, she didn’t put her phone away. Only bit her lip and continued staring. If something was about to go down with the hotel, or with her job, or if there was a way to prevent things from going south, then she needed to know as soon as possible.

“Everything all right, Ms. Van Heusen?” Arnold asked from the front desk. He’d worked here since she was a little girl. And because she loved the nighttime, and so did he, she had often sneaked down to sit with him while her parents worked instead of stay in bed.

In the end, that memory was what changed her mind. If there was a chance to save their jobs, she owed Arnold and her parents the discomfort of returning Satan Crane’s call.

“Everything’s fine, Arnold. Thanks for asking. I’m making some tea. Can I get you something?”

“I’m good, but thank you.” He grinned, and the wide smile comforted her right to her soul.

“You’re welcome.” Her returning smile faded as she turned back into the bar area and tapped her phone screen.

“Just as I suspected,” Reese answered, his voice a smooth, low timbre.

“Hello to you too,” she grumbled.
Arrogant prick.
“What is just as you suspected?”

“That you don’t sleep.”

“I sleep, but it’s early.”

“It is.”

There was a gap of silence that stretched, and she let it. He was the one who wanted to talk to her. Let him talk.

“I have a proposal for you, but I’d like to deliver it in person.”

Behind the bar, she rested a clean mug on the surface. “Okay. Well, I’m free Thursday, or—”

“Now.”

“Now?”

“You’re at the hotel, I presume.”

“Yes, but—”

“See you in ten minutes.”

Silence.

She looked at the screen of her phone.
Call ended
. She frowned, not liking that he didn’t explain. Not liking how she felt as if she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Not liking any of it. Not liking
him
.

She was a big girl. She could take her medicine. Even if her medicine was a prescription written on a pink slip that she’d be out on her “fantastic ass” by the end of this week.

But she really hoped not.

She pulled the lever on a vat of hot water on the industrial coffeemaker, then dunked a tea bag into her mug and decided to run to the bathroom while it steeped.

A quick check confirmed she was as put together as one could expect at this time of night. Sure her hair had gone a little limp and her skirt and shirt were wrinkled from wear, but her makeup was reasonably intact and she’d brushed her teeth after a late dinner.

Not that she was trying to impress Reese Crane.

By the time five minutes was up, she was tossing the tea bag in the trash, and the revolving hotel door was spinning. Reese stepped in, wearing a dark suit and pale butter-yellow tie. In his pocket was a matching kerchief, and shiny black shoes poked out of sharp pants accentuating thick thighs and, yeah, she’d admit it, a nice ass. He’d made good time.

“Welcome to a real hotel, Crane,” Merina called from the doorway of the bar. “We can talk about your proposal in here.”

He turned to face her, his expression registering surprise that faded quickly into his usual take-charge façade. “Very well.”

His steps were sure and strong, his body moving like it’d been crafted to walk toward a woman. Merina expected Reese to look at home only in his whitewashed hotel with no personality. But he also looked like he belonged in the warmth of the Van Heusen, with its deep, rich woods and tapestry-style chairs. The soft lighting warmed his skin and made the flecks of gold stand out in his facial hair.

He was alarmingly attractive tonight, and she decided to blame that observation on her always-present sleep deprivation.

“How does it feel stepping into a place with soul?” she asked as he followed her in.

“You mean where I’m served milk and cookies rather than aged scotch?”

“We have both.”

“I’ll have a scotch.” With a nod, he moved to the bar.

“Sorry. Bar’s closed.” She wouldn’t allow him to come in here and boss her around. He was on her turf.

For now, anyway.

Glancing at her mug, he looked as if he was weighing his options of whether to argue about the bar being closed or not. He must have decided against it. He said nothing more.

Nothing. Even though he’d called this after-hours meeting.

“Would you like to sit?” May as well start the ball rolling.

His expression turned slightly amused before he nodded. “Sure.”

She led him away from the bar—no way was she propping up on one of those hard wooden seats after the day she’d had—and slid into a booth. He sat across from her, and with half the lights off in the lounge, the seating arrangement felt intimate.

He regarded the bar, his mouth twisting in indecision. Like he was debating on what part of it to tear out first.

“Okay,” Merina interrupted to take his mind off destroying her second favorite room in the hotel. She wrapped her hands around her mug of steaming tea. “What did you need to see me about?”

“A proposal.” His eyes snapped to hers. “I’m willing to let you and your parents keep your jobs and leave the Van Heusen as bohemian as you like.”

It was everything she wanted to hear. Like a miracle had occurred. Had he grown a conscience? Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

He smiled, then said two words that made her go temporarily blind in one eye. “Marry me.”

In all the imaginings she’d ever had about a marriage proposal, absolutely zero of them included billionaires she barely knew. A small, slightly hysterical laugh left her lips.

Reese didn’t flinch.

“Did you just say…” She closed her eyes and pushed the rest from her constricted chest. “
Marry you
?” Surely not. Surely she’d hallucinated that.

“Yes.”

She clutched her mug. Voice tight, she asked, “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“My father is retiring soon. The Crane Holdings board of directors isn’t convinced I’ll make a good replacement due to my dating habits.” He stated it clearly and unapologetically, though really, what did he have to apologize for? He was a grown man who could see whomever he wanted. In her opinion, he saw way too many
whomevers
. A string of silly women who were likely chasing after his wallet. “The shareholders are displeased with the fact that I have a reputation for being…”

“A playboy?” she finished for him.

He curled his lip and corrected with, “Not monogamous.”

“Are you capable of being monogamous?” It was easier to needle him than address the gauntlet resting between them like a huge pink elephant.

“I don’t prefer it.”

Which was no answer at all.

“So this is a bribe.”

“It’s a proposal.” One eyebrow lifted slightly. “In this case, literally.”

“You think the first time I walk down an aisle it’s going to be an arrangement with a coldhearted snake whose only goal in life is to deepen his pockets?” There was no way. No way she’d agree to this. Even if it meant she was fired, she wouldn’t sell her soul. “I’m not going to let you bribe me into marrying you. I don’t even like you.”

“You don’t have to like me. You have to pretend to like me.”

My God, he’s serious.

“No, I don’t.” Her neck prickled. Maybe this was an elaborate scheme. “I don’t have to do anything.”

“You do if you want your job. If you want to keep the Van Heusen intact.” He grimaced as he studied the bar. “If you turn me down, I might raze it just for fun.”

Her blood moved from chilled to boiling. There were not enough swear words—in every language in the universe—to sum up her feelings. She had to say something, however, so she went with, “You asshole.”

“Six months.” He dipped his chin and trained those heady navy eyes on her. “We get engaged, then married, make a few public appearances for show. The media starts writing favorable things about me instead of lies, and the board will see I’ve changed.” He shrugged one big shoulder. “Once I land CEO, we quietly divorce.”

Six months. For a split second she entertained the idea. Keeping her job and the Van Heusen intact would only cost her half a year of her life.

Wait.

No.

“This isn’t the sixteenth century, Crane,” she snapped. “Can’t you find a woman to date monogamously from the collection of dolls you’re always parading around the city? The senator’s daughter. That underwear model. Oh, what about that really short, cute niece of the famous designer?”

“No,” he answered, his lips cradling the familiar word. “I need someone who will keep up the ruse. Someone who is smart and savvy, who the media will believe I’ve settled down with long-term.”

She was pretty sure there were a few compliments in there, but damned if she knew what to do about them.

“Forget it.” She put her hands on the table and moved to stand.

“I’ll sign the Van Heusen over to you free and clear,” he said, holding her eyes with his.

Her currency. He’d found it.

She lowered to her seat again, palms sweating on the wood where they rested.