The TROUBLE with BILLIONAIRES: Book 3 (11 page)

But it wasn’t just the décor that was impressive. The number of movie stars and politicians and business moguls who streamed into the room in just the few minutes we stood inside, trying to catch our breath, was more than striking. It took a conscious effort for me to keep my mouth closed and my eyes in my head.

My fingers itched to take out my cellphone and take pictures so that I could send them to Madison and everyone else I knew.

I was in the same room as Chris Hemsworth and his beautiful wife, Elsa Pataky. Chris Pratt was there, too, and Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence…there were so many. I couldn’t keep track of how many of my movie heroes were standing within feet of me.

Talk about dreams coming true!

“You okay?” Logan asked, his lips so close to my ear that his breath washed deliciously over my neck.

“Yeah.” I looked up at him and suddenly all the other stars in the room dimmed compared to him. He looked nervous, maybe a little overwhelmed. I took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “We should dance.”

Logan looked dubious, but he followed me onto the empty floor. We faced each other…it was awkward for a moment. Logan didn’t seem to know where to put his hands, and I was a little unsure about standing close enough to him to initiate a slow dance. But then, we just seemed to get over ourselves and slide into each other, our hands landing perfectly where they should have been.

It was only a moment or two before other couples joined us on the floor. But I didn’t really notice. I liked the feel of Logan’s hands on the small of my back, the heat of his body under my hands where they rested on his shoulders. We didn’t really move a lot, just kind of swayed to the soft strains of the violins.

“Do you do this often?” he asked.

“No, not really.”

“You’re a natural.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“No, you are.”

I slid my hand to the back of his neck and flicked the tiny, short hairs that stopped just short of his collar. “It’s easy with a good partner.”

“You must be talking about someone else because I don’t dance.”

“You’re doing alright.”

“I’m holding you. That I can do.”

He looked down at me, lifting a hand to brush a curl from the corner of my lip. And then he kissed me ever so softly, his lips like satin, his nearness bringing to life nerve endings I never even knew I had. It was a magical moment.

I wanted to lose myself in that moment, wanted to stand there in our little bubble of closeness for the rest of my life. And the way Logan looked at me…I kind of hoped he felt the same way.

***

Mellissa

Beef stew, slow-cooked over the full course of the day. A fruit salad, freshly prepared.  A fresh loaf of bread—though I cheated a little on that one, buying one of those frozen loaves that only needs to be baked.

It all smelled so good that even I was a little hungry despite my lingering nausea.

Now all I needed was Conrad.

I set the table with his best china, digging through his kitchen cabinets and drawers until I found a suitable collection of cutlery, china, and cloth napkins. I even discovered some candles in the very back of the pantry that I lit a few minutes before seven, anticipating Conrad would be on time, as he always was.

But now the candles had melted nearly to the nub, and he still wasn’t here.

I checked my cellphone again, hoping that maybe he had texted and I just didn’t hear the alert tone. But there was nothing.

I told him this was important to me. I told him I had something to tell him. Didn’t that matter to him? Didn’t he want to know what was so important that I would go to all this trouble? It’s not like I was the cook in this relationship—if we could even call it that. I suddenly wasn’t sure what was going on between us. I thought we were in a committed relationship, but now I was beginning to wonder. Conrad was so focused on Rawn’s situation that he seemed too distracted to see that I needed him right now.

And then I felt selfish for even thinking that.

I just…I didn’t want to keep secrets any more.

But it was kind of hard to tell Conrad my secret when he couldn’t even be bothered to come home.

I blew out the candles and took the pot of stew back into the kitchen. I cleaned up, picking at pieces of the salad before I tossed it in the trash. Then, I grabbed my bag and left, suddenly not comfortable sleeping in Conrad’s bed without him there.

***

Annie

It was insane, the number of people who wanted to talk to Logan. There were reporters, other actors, producers and writers, politicians, even a couple of executives with NASA who wanted to tease Logan about the inaccuracies of his space movie. Logan clung to my hand the whole time, introducing me simply as Annie. I could see the curiosity in some people’s eyes, especially Logan’s former co-stars and the reporters. But they didn’t ask what our relationship was, and he never offered anything more than my name. But my hand tucked in his…it seemed to send a message.

I was floating on a cloud.

Alcohol flowed freely, making the rounds on the silver trays of the gloved waiters. Champagne, mostly, but you could ask for just about anything a bartender might be able to create. I drank a few of those lovely flutes, feeling like a queen. And Logan sipped at my glass when no one was looking, still concerned about the rumors of his drug addiction, I assumed. Being in that room, watching the way everyone was observed like bugs under a microscope, I could see why Logan was concerned. Between that and the rumors that circulated from the studio, it seemed impossible for him to do anything without someone reporting it and smearing it all over some magazine or internet site.

I wasn’t sure I could live under such intense scrutiny.

We danced again, sandwiched between other couples trying to escape the nonstop questions. It was the only place where we found a few moments of relative silence. And it came with the bonus of having Logan’s arms around me.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“That’s a complicated question.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s fun, meeting all these actors I’ve admired for quite a while. But it’s annoying, the questions people ask you and the way they stare at you when they think you aren’t being honest, or not answering their questions the way they expected.”

“You’re picking up on that.”

“Yeah.” I touched the back of his neck lightly. “But I like this.”

He pressed his forehead to mine and just stood that way for a minute. “You might be very dangerous for me, Annie.”

“How’s that?”

He didn’t answer, but he stole another kiss, this one just as tender as the last. But then he deepened it, the taste of champagne cool on his lips. I moved into him, my hand moving from the back of his neck to his jaw. I loved the way his jaw worked, the way kissing me stole his breath. Once again, I wanted to lose myself in his touch. When he broke the kiss, I groaned softly, disappointment that first impulse. But then he whispered against my ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

We slid through the crush of humanity and snuck out a side door. But, of course, we couldn’t avoid everyone. There was a pretty brunette in the lobby, descending on everyone and anyone who happened to make the mistake of attempting to leave the party early.

“Logan Mitchell,” she said with a smug sense of satisfaction, “there’s a rumor going around that you’re headed back to rehab. Is that true?”

Logan tensed in the middle of sliding my shawl around my shoulders. The reporter must have seen it because she jumped in immediately with another question.

“Is it true you were hospitalized last week with an overdose? Are you using prescription pain killers again?”

I couldn’t just stand there and listen to her.

“You have a lot of nerve,” I said, moving between the reporter and Logan. “Where do you get off asking him questions like that?”

The woman seemed a little taken aback by my outburst. But then she laughed.

“You must be the new girlfriend. Where did Logan dig you up? Obviously somewhere that doesn’t get a lot of exposure to the real world.”

My eyes narrowed as I took a step toward her. “How would your life stand up to this kind of scrutiny? Do you have a secret in your past that you would prefer not to be plastered all over the internet?”

“I’m not a celebrity.”

“So, just because he’s a celebrity, you have the right to invade his privacy?”

“Annie.” Logan laid his hand on my shoulder and tugged me back against him. “Let’s go.”

I glared at the woman once more, but let Logan led me out a back door to where the limo was waiting in a narrow alley. I expected him to yell at me the moment we were alone, so I beat him to the punch.

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stand to listen to her ask you those insane questions.”

Logan had been staring straight ahead, his hands clasped in his lap. But then they were suddenly on my face, his thumbs caressing the curve of my chin.

“No one has ever stood up for me like that. You…” He groaned deep in his chest. “You are amazing.”

And then he was kissing me, his touch no longer gentle, but intense. He pressed me back against the slick cushions of the car seat, his hand moving from my jaw to my throat, traveling slowly down along the swell of my breasts. His hand continued to travel, resting against my hip for a moment, tugging me closer to him as he explored every inch of my mouth. Then, he found that hidden slit and his warm hand slid over the top edge of my stockings, finding the bare space between stocking and garter.

I was so glad I had packed my garter set.

I wanted this; I wanted him. I wanted to get rid of that nicely tailored jacket and tug his tie from around his neck. I wanted to run my hands along the incredibly sculpted muscles of his chest, his abdomen. I wanted to make him moan, the way his touch made me unable to control the little noises escaping my lips.

I slid my mouth away from his and ran just the tip of my tongue along the sharp edges of his chin, down the warm, salty flesh of his throat. He grunted when I drew a tiny piece of that flesh between my teeth and nibbled with just the gentlest of touches. His hand told me he liked what I was doing, slipping higher along my thigh until he discovered my choice of French cut panties that rose so high on my hip that his hand had no barrier until it slid along bottom edge of my ass.

His pulse pounded. He captured my lips again when I moved too close to his chin, the weight of him pressing me back again. I pressed my hand to his chest, unintentionally unfastening one of the clips that held the front of his shirt closed. But it allowed me to slide my fingers underneath, to touch the ribbed undershirt he was wearing underneath. I was a little disappointed not to feel skin, but the image that burst through my mind of him stripped down to that undershirt only continued to fuel the fire burning deep in my belly.

Neither of us were aware enough to realize the car had stopped moving until the side door was opened by the chauffeur. Logan’s cheeks reddened slightly as he untangled himself from me and stepped out, reaching back in for my hand. It took a moment for him to tip and send away the car. I waited at the top of the stairs, chewing my bottom lip as my imagination took flight, considering what came next.

But something had changed. Logan wouldn’t look at me as he approached, choosing to focus on the front door instead. I moved up behind him and pressed my hand to his back, but he pulled away, pretending it was only because the door chose that moment to open.

“Logan?”

He marched into the solarium, shedding his jacket as he went. When I followed, I found him standing at the bar, pouring himself a drink.

“What’s going on?”

He didn’t acknowledge me. Just stood there and swallowed a full tumbler of whiskey before pausing to pour another.

“Why do you do this? Why do you kiss me like that and then shut it off, like I don’t know that you were as into it as I was?”

“I can’t get involved, Annie.” He turned, his eyes dark and closed off, as they had been too many times before. “I can’t ask someone to share this life with me. It would be grossly unfair to subject someone to the press and the rumors and…and everything that comes with being in a relationship with me.”

I inclined my head slightly, my heart shattering into a million pieces. But I refused to cry, refused to allow him to see the hurt his words created.

“What makes you think I want that?”

He grunted slightly, one eyebrow cocked in that arrogant way he had.

I crossed my arms over my chest, urging steel into my spine. “Do you really think I want all this bullshit in my life? I’m a college student. I have plans for the rest of my life, and none of them include living under a damn microscope with you.”

“Then what was that?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

“It wasn’t a request for a wedding ring. It was just what it looking like: lust.”

“Lust?”

“Does it surprise you so much that all I want from you is one night in your bed? I’m sure you get that quite often.”

He laughed, his chuckles drowned a little as he swallowed his second glass of whiskey. But he was completely sober as he stared at me, his eyes slowly raking over me like I was some piece of meat and he was a starving dog.