The TROUBLE with BILLIONAIRES: Book 3 (4 page)

“I’ve been talking to these reporters all day, and they know more than they should. It’s like...” He shook his head. “Whoever leaked this information was not just a nurse or doctor at the hospital. It was someone who knew exactly what Logan Mitchell was supposed to be doing this morning, who he was doing it for, and what happened. Some of them even seemed to think they knew what drug brought on the seizure. As far as I know, Logan doesn’t even know that.”

“How could they know all that?”

“That’s the question.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “Have you talked to Rawn about it?”

“Not yet. I’m going to call him in the morning.”

“Do you think it’s someone from Cepheus?”

“The only people from Cepheus at that photoshoot were Rawn and Madison. I’m sure someone else at Cepheus knew about it, but I can’t imagine many people knew. Aurora, before she left this last week, and Russell.  Maybe someone in financials. But all the details were handled at my firm.”

“Do you think Aurora…”

I didn’t have to see Conrad’s face to know he didn’t like that question. I could feel it in the tension that filled his shoulders. But I also knew him well enough to know that he had likely already considered it. Aurora was, after all, his ex-wife. And her Alzheimer’s already led her to slip information to Peggy Duprey. Could she have slipped more information to someone else, someone else who still had a reason to hurt Cepheus and its employees?

“I really don’t know. But I do know she couldn’t have been the one to slip the drug into Logan’s water bottle, if that’s what really happened. And it’s that fact that worries me the most.”

“Maybe Rawn will have some ideas tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” Conrad leaned into me and kissed the tip of my nose. “I’ve kept you up long enough. You should get some sleep.”

“What about that shower?”

A warm smile slipped across his lips before he stood and held his hand out to me. He was like a child with a new toy. But I wasn’t really complaining…

Annie

The door to the bedroom was still closed when I woke the next morning. Logan had insisted I take the bed, but I convinced him I would prefer the couch. I regretted it now, the crick in my neck promising to be stiff by the afternoon. But it didn’t seem right to make the guy who’d been in the hospital just that morning sleep on the rock hard couch.

I sat up and drew my fingers through my hair, wishing the bathroom had a door from the hallway—instead of being accessible only from the bedroom. I used the sink in the kitchen to wash my face, pressing wetness into my hair to try to tame some of the tangles. I was thinking about putting on my shoes and going down to the convenience store on the corner when I heard someone turning a key in the front door.

I grabbed a bat Logan had found in the back of the bedroom closet and raised it over my head, ready to clobber whoever happened to walk in.

It was a good thing I recognized Madison before I swung.

“What the hell!” I cried. “You could have texted or something.”

“Sorry,” she said, kicking a heavy duffle across the floor in front of her, my overnight bag in her hands. “I thought I’d drop off some clothes for the two of you. Everyone kind of forgot about that last night.”

“Thanks.”

I took the overnight bag and opened it, digging through until I found my favorite gray sweater, a cardigan that I wore so often last winter Madison threatened to burn it.

I sighed contentedly as I pulled it on.

“I thought you’d appreciate that.”

“You know me too well.”

Madison shrugged nonchalantly, but there was nothing nonchalant about the way she was looking at me. “How did it go last night?”

“We talked,” I said. “He’s really incredibly intelligent. Did you know he went to Princeton?”

Madison shook her head, but the way she continued to look at me…

“We just talked, Madison. For hours. It was nice.”

I knew Madison well enough to know when something was bothering her. I wanted to ask what it was, but I was suddenly afraid I didn’t want to know the answer. Was she jealous? Was that it? Did she like Logan now?

“Hey, ladies,” Logan said, as though my thoughts had brought him out of the bedroom. “How are you today?”

“How are you?” Madison asked, concern etched in everything about her as she turned to him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well.” He smiled, his eyes bouncing between the two of us. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No.”

I crossed the room and brushed past him to get into the bedroom, then the bathroom. It was a small apartment—with fairly thin walls. I could hear them talking and imagined it had something to do with me. Or maybe that was just my paranoia. Maybe I was just jumping to conclusions because I so wanted things to work out between Logan and I. And we did have such a nice time last night…it was like a first date without all the awkwardness and the interrupting waiters.

I washed my face again in the bathroom sink, searching the drawers and cupboard for a comb or a toothbrush. I found some mouthwash, which I used vigorously just in case Logan happened to get close enough to smell my rancid morning breath. Not that I thought he might. He’d had plenty of opportunities last night, but he never took a single one. He was a perfect gentleman.

Damn it!

I looked at myself in the mirror one more time, twisting the front sections of my hair and tucking them behind my ear so that they didn’t hang down in my face. I wasn’t bad looking, if I did say so myself. The deep red of my hair set off my pale skin perfectly, better than most redheads. I didn’t have the same multitude of freckles that a lot of redheads were cursed with, just a few across the bridge of my nose. And my lashes were thick and long, highlighting my hazel eyes better than the most expensive bottle of mascara could probably do. I was pretty, even, still young enough to have a tight stomach and perky breasts.

So why was he so hands off, so gentlemanly? Any other guy would have taken advantage of a night alone with a pretty girl.

Just my luck Logan Mitchell wasn’t like other guys.

I shook my head, turning away from the mirror and my depressing self-assessment.

Madison and Logan were standing face to face next to the kitchen when I came back into the room, too close for their conversation to be anything less than intimate. Madison looked up when I cleared my throat, guilt slipping over her pale features before she turned away to gather her keys from the countertop.

“I should go. Rawn’s waiting for me at the office.”

“It’s Saturday,” said Logan

She shrugged. “That rarely makes a difference to him.”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t try to talk her out of it,” I said, moving up beside Logan. “She’d rather be at the office than anywhere else. Especially when it involves Rawn.”

Madison shot me a look, even as Logan inclined his head in surrender. “I suppose I can understand that.”

“Conrad called this morning. I guess he has something he wants to talk to everyone about, so we’ll be meeting here about lunch time.” Madison backed away, her eyes moving over my face for a long minute. I again got that feeling she wanted to tell me something, but she just turned away. “I’ll see you then. If you need anything, text.”

She was gone without another word.

“That was clandestine,” I said, brushing past Logan to grab the orange juice from the refrigerator.

“We were just discussing the PR mess Conrad was dealing with last night.”

“I’m sure.”

“Really, it was just—”

“You don’t have to explain to me.” I poured the juice into a glass and offered it to him, but he waved it away. I took a small sip. “Madison and I are best friends. If something’s going on she thinks I need to know, she’ll tell me.”

Logan inclined his head slightly. “I’m sure that’s true,” he said softly.

I glanced at him, a little confused by the dark bent to his tone, but he had already turned away, headed back to the bedroom. “I guess I should get dressed if everyone’s going to descend on us in a few hours.”

I just nodded, not sure what else there was to say. It seemed the easy companionship we’d achieved the night before was gone.

What
was
going on between him and Madison?

***

Conrad and Mellissa were the first to arrive—they sure seemed connected at the hip these days—with bags full of delicious smelling food from a local Mexican place that served the best empanadas. I stole one before Mellissa was done pulling all the food out of the bags, prompting her to slap the back of my hand a little playfully.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

I glanced over to where Logan and Conrad were talking by the windows. “I don’t know. He’s cold and cranky one minute, funny and charming the next.”

“Maybe he’s still reeling a little from what happened yesterday morning.”

“Maybe. I can’t imagine it’s much fun having a seizure. And there’s no telling what was in that water bottle and how it affected him.”

“You still think he was drugged?”

I shrugged. “Why would he lie?”

Mellissa shrugged. “It just…some of it doesn’t make sense. I mean, if someone’s going after Cepheus, why drug the actor? Why not drug the president of product development? Or his assistant?”

“Maybe that was the plan, but Logan just happened to get the wrong bottle. Or the first.”

Mellissa’s eyebrows rose. “That’s possible, I suppose. I hadn’t thought of that.”

I sat back on the stool where I was sitting and glanced over at Logan again. “I remember the woman with the waters and sodas was pushing them on everyone, but especially Rawn. At one point he even had to ask her to get out of the way while he was trying to discuss what he wanted with the photographer.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Maybe Logan wasn’t supposed to seize. Maybe we were just all supposed to get high.”

“What would that have accomplished?”

“I don’t know.” I picked at the crust of my empanada. “Maybe they were hoping Rawn would do something that would embarrass the company.”

I took a bite, sighing at the savory flavors of the meat encased inside. There was once a time when heaven was a hot empanada and a good horror movie on the television. And Madison curled up on the couch beside me. But that was before Rawn, before Cepheus, before her kidnapping and all the intrigue that followed. Back when we supported each other in our endeavors.

Madison and Rawn walked through the door as that thought ran through my mind. Was it just a coincidence that her eyes darted to Logan’s before she seemed to notice anyone else in the room?

“Hey.”

She came over and squeezed my shoulder lightly, a soft smile on her lips that didn’t quite touch her eyes. She was worried. I’d known her for nearly four years. I knew when she was worried.

“Hey,” Mellissa said, coming around the counter and offering Madison a big hug. “How you doing, sweetie?”

Madison shrugged. “The CEO’s pissed at Rawn, so he’s pissed at the world.”

“Why? What’s going on now?” I asked.

“Some reporter wrote a story about Cepheus that mentioned trouble at the photoshoot for the Alessa yesterday. It didn’t really give any specifics, but the CEO thinks that it won’t be long before the truth comes out. And then…Cepheus is on rocky ground as it is. If the stocks start to plummet…”

“Wow.”

Mellissa nodded. “I can’t imagine the bad press surrounding our ordeals last month helped any.”

“There’s been a lot of bad press circling Cepheus these past few weeks,” Madison said. “If someone gets wind of even a little of the truth of what happened to Logan, it could cause a lot of trouble for stock holders. And if customers start backing out, or inventors stop bringing their stuff to Cepheus because of it…”

Silence fell heavy between Mellissa and Madison. They both worked at Cepheus; they both had something to lose if it went under. I didn’t. All I cared about was what this bad press could do to Logan.

“They didn’t use his name, did they?”

Madison glanced at me, but she didn’t have a chance to answer. The men came over to join us, reaching for plates as they discussed how amazing the food smelled.

I slipped off of my stool and stepped out of the way, feeling a little like a fifth wheel as I watched Conrad slide his hand over Mellissa’s hip before he reached for a spoonful of beans, and Rawn’s not very pissed looking smile as he brushed past Madison on his mission to get to the enchiladas.

“It’s like a bad rom-com in here,” Logan said, coming up to stand beside her.

“Am I the only one who feels like a voyeur or something?”

“No, you’re not.”

I smiled and he winked, a gesture that felt as sexy as it looked. I wanted to move into him and whisper some very inappropriate suggestions in his ear. I wanted to remind him of the long, lingering stares we shared at the launch party, then again last night. I wanted to fulfill all the fantasies I had ever had about him, and a few I hadn’t had yet. Mellissa and Madison had found their dream guy. Wasn’t I allowed that chance, too?

But then Madison was shoving a plate into my hand and suggesting I grab a couple of empanadas before they were all gone.

Madison. Again.

In a few minutes, we were all settled around the living room. I was on the floor, tucking into my food with relish by the coffee table, just a few feet from Logan’s…well, his feet. He was on the couch next to Madison who was tucked in beside Rawn. Mellissa was on the stool I had abandoned, Conrad eating on his feet so that he could stay close to her.

“So, Conrad, you called us here,” Rawn said—after a few deliciously indulgent minutes. “What’s going on?”

Conrad pressed a napkin to his lips, waiting to swallow his last bite. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening talking to a dozen reporters. Each one had slightly differing information, as they are wont to do. But most of them knew Logan suffered a seizure; they knew he was taken to the hospital; and they knew it all began at the photoshoot—a photoshoot meant to augment the Alessa 3D X100 ad campaign—which is why they called me. They also knew exactly who was there, when it happened, who called 911, and which hospital he was taken to.”

Rawn shrugged. “A half decent investigator could have figured most of that out.”

“Yes, but most reporters will get a tip, and they’ll check it out first by making a few fishing phone calls to see if the information is genuine. When I get calls like these, the reporters usually all have a few details, but very few of them have specific details and even fewer have this many correct details.”

“You’re saying whoever tipped them off was the same person.”

“And that person had to have been at the photoshoot—or had someone at the photoshoot to report back—to have so many of the details down perfectly.”

Rawn glanced at Madison. “But the only other people at the shoot were the photographer and his assistant. I’ve worked with him before. He wouldn’t go to the press.”