Forever Branded (Billionaire Love Series #1) (23 page)

“Oh, no!” She breathed out in outrage. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it. To complicate things, I’ve also received a mysterious invite to some unknown event on Saturday night.”

“Do you think the two things are connected?”

“Absolutely. Beau Shepard is toying with me.”

“That Beau! What’s he up to?” she asked, her green eyes lighting up with mischief.

“I don’t know. But he wants to blackmail me somehow. I can feel it. Can you believe him?”

“No, sugar. I can’t.”

“I need your help, Grace. I don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, you definitely need a game plan.” She rubbed her hands together like she was coming up with something good. “Two can definitely play at this little game he’s created.”

The waitress brought us our tea at that point, along with the delicious heart-shaped scones. We each filled a sunflower inspired cup and fixed a scone with Devonshire cream and lemon filling.

Divine.

One of my favs.

I took a sip of my tea “What do you have in mind?”

“First of all, you’re gonna be cool, calm, and sexy. Don’t let him see you sweat, no matter what he wants from you.

I stopped eating. “Sexy? I haven’t been that for a long time.”

“Well, dust off your mojo and let yourself shine, Marla Matthews. You’re a hot woman, celebrate it.”

I smiled, appreciating her words. “It’s been a long time, but I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit. What do you think he wants from you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been wracking my brain. Maybe he’s just playing a mind-fuck game.”

She furrowed her auburn brows together in thought. “I don’t buy that. He wants something...a lot of somethings. He just doesn’t know it, yet. Whatever it is, he’s using the salon as leverage and you have to neutralize the leverage.”

“Okay, how do I do that?”

“What are Beau’s soft spots? His weaknesses?”

“I don’t know.” I tried to remember what got him riled up. “In high school he had a soft spot for those in need or those who were weaker than he was.”

“So how can you use that to your advantage?”

“Hmm... that’s a good question.”

“Think about it. Eventually he’s going to lay out his demands and you’re going to need to know how to counter them.”

“So I need to figure out what to say to him to get him to back off?” I asked, picking up my teacup.

“Yeah, but are you willing to sleep with him?”

I almost spit out my tea. “Grace! Why would you say that?”

“Because he’s a man and sex is certainly something he wants from you.”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that. I’d just hoped I could talk him out of his ridiculous demands.”

“You’re not going to talk him out of it. You just have to show him why his plan wouldn’t be a good idea.”

‘Give me an example?”

“Let’s see...I know Sam can’t stand injustice. So when I want him to do something, I always point out how he can make things right in a situation and he’s suddenly ready to take on the world.”

My mind suddenly clicked into gear. “Ah, now I get what you’re saying. I just need to mention the fact innocent people would get hurt if Beau shut down my salon.”

She nodded, her glance full of encouragement. “So, you know what to do?”

“Yep, I got it.”

“Good. Now don’t forget to have some fun.”

I smiled wryly. “I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try.”

I left Teaz that day, feeling confident I could handle whatever Beau threw at me at our clandestine get together.

Over the next few days, I continued to think and plan, wondering what was in store for me. More clues arrived as several packages were delivered to my house the day before the mysterious event was to take place.

In a series of baby blue boxes, I found a beautiful barrage of gifts.

La Perla red lacy panties.

Silk stockings complete with a red garter belt.

Jimmy Choo black patent leather five-inch heels.

I wasn’t even sure I could walk in them, let alone look sexy.

Finally, a red sequined, cocktail dress was unveiled as I opened the last big box.

It was beautiful, but so daring.

It was wickedly short, clingy, and had an exposed back. The skirt would barely cover my generous butt.

I held the dress up against my frame, wondering if I had the courage to wear it. It would fit, but I couldn’t wear a bra and sitting down would be a bit of a problem. My legs would always have to be seriously crossed.

There was no note or explanation with the expensive goods. Obviously, I was expected to wear this outfit on Saturday night.

Later that day, another package came. I gasped as I opened a black velvet case. A stunning diamond chocker along with a pair of diamond chandelier earrings glittered with exquisite clarity against the dark velvet. They were definitely real.

Beau had thought of everything.

I didn’t know whether to be flattered or disgusted.

I guess I was a little of both.

I hemmed and hawed about wearing his gifts, but in the end, I decided I would just wow him.

After all, I owned a salon with talented hairdressers and makeup artists at my disposal. So, I spent Saturday afternoon being buffed out and painted up in my best to match the new outfit.

Emma stopped by to counsel me, while I sat getting my hair pinned up in curlers. “Keep your cell phone on and call me if anything gets weird,” she reminded me.

I crinkled up my nose. “Weird? This whole thing is weird. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it, but remember you’re fighting for our livelihood. A lot of people are depending on you.”

“I know.”

“You look fabulous, big sister,” she said, placing a kiss on my cheek. “You’re gonna knock him dead.”

I sighed. “I hope so. I need something to go right tonight.”

*****

Dusk settled over Baltimore, the orange highlights of the sunset slowly giving in to the dark of night as I waited nervously at my front window, peeking out every couple of seconds wondering what was coming for me.

I checked my appearance one last time in the full-length mirror in the living room. The dress clung to me, my boobs looking perky thanks to some contraption Emma gave me to hold them up. My legs appeared long in the short dress and sexy black heels. My brown hair was tousled and wild, hanging down my back in ringlets.

My makeup was flawless with a subtle cat’s eye on my lids and bright red lipstick hugging my generous mouth. Looking mysterious and worldly, I was a knockout, ready to take on Beau.

Anticipation settled in my belly, making it flip-flop in nervous excitement. It was a little like experiencing Christmas morning as a kid mixed together with waiting for the doctor to give me news about some tests.

Nauseating and exhilarating.

I hadn’t done anything like this in...well, ever.

At eight o’clock on the dot, a black stretch limo pulled up in front of my house. I grabbed my black clutch purse and bravely headed outside. Smoothing out my barely there dress, I walked with confidence toward my ride.

A burly chauffeur ushered me into the plush backseat of the limo, where I found instructions to wear a black silky blindfold.

I sighed, wondering how far I would dare go with all this.

I’d always wanted a little adventure, hadn’t I?

The black silk fell against my face as I tied the ends around the back of my head. Complete darkness engulfed me as I tried to keep my bearings and figure out where we were going.

Clearly, we were on some kind of highway as we left the city, the hum of urban noise growing less as we traveled along. I settled back and relaxed into the seat, wondering what awaited me.

I had to give Beau points for style, between the outfit and the mysterious journey in a limo. I thought he would just want to corral me in a restaurant, but apparently, there was something more exciting in the works.

At last, we stopped on what sounded like a dirt road, the tires rolling over bits of gravel. The smell of earth filled my nose as stillness descended and the wind whistled through what sounded like stalks of grass.

Great, I was in the middle of nowhere, probably in Virginia somewhere.

“You may take off the blindfold,” the driver directed as I quickly undid the silky material over my eyes.

He opened my door and I stepped out, desperate to focus on my surroundings. A ton of cars were in a makeshift dirt parking lot, in front of an abandoned warehouse. Large parcels of land were on either side of the building, confirming my suspicions that I was way out in the country somewhere in Virginia.

The chauffer offered his beefy arm and I clung to it as we walked toward the metal structure. The dirt was uneven, marred by deep tire tracks and rocks.

“Watch your step, Ms. Matthews,” the driver said as I gripped his arm tighter.

“I’m trying. What is this place?”

“I can’t tell you anything, but you’ll find out soon enough,” he offered cryptically.

A large, metal door creaked open revealing a bald, tall, scowl wearing bouncer who gruffly asked, “Password?”

“One eighty five,” the driver told scary dude.

He nodded and we stepped into the dilapidated warehouse. It reminded me of an old shed my grandfather used to have which hung on by just a couple of nails.

At one time, the warehouse was probably a thriving granary, but it had fallen into disrepair and was little more than a bare bones shell. A mixture of corn and metallic hit my nose as my heels crunched on the cement floor covered in a fine, chalky film of wheat.

The building was shaped in an L with a huge ceiling dotted with old industrial lights hanging from the rafters. It seemed like just the place for something illegal or underground to flourish. Not that I knew anything for sure, but I had a hunch.

A crowd of people were milling around. From men in suits to farmers in overalls, these folks were serious about whatever was getting ready to go down.

Before I had time to guess, I was quickly led up a long staircase, my heart pumping excitedly as we arrived in a little room at the top of the stairs.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” the driver motioned to the one chair in the room. “Someone will be with you shortly,” he said, leaving me alone.

Cautiously, I stepped into the square room, searching the space for any sign of danger. I took in the drab grey walls, the peeling paint, and the musty smell emanating from the cement floor.

Barren and dingy, but empty. It must have been an office at one time.

I sighed in relief as I slid into the metal chair facing a couple of large, rectangular, glass-less windows that gave me a panoramic view of the space below. People were gathering, talking to each other, and placing bets. Like the stock exchange on its busiest day, money was changing hands at an alarming rate.

“Ms. Matthews.” A man dressed in a formal black suit appeared at my side, scaring the bejeezus out of me.

I jumped about five feet off my chair. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“So sorry, Ms. Matthews, to have startled you,” he said in a British accent that sounded as if he were the King of England.

“Where did you come from?”

“There’s another room through that door.” He pointed to the door I had obviously missed in my inspection. “I’m Reeves, Mr. Shepard’s butler. Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps?

“Yeah, a drink would be great.”

“We have a nice Montrachet Chardonnay that Mr. Shepard had special delivered from France.”

What did I know about wine? “Sounds delightful. Pour me a glass.”

He puckered his thin mouth at my unimpressed answer. “My pleasure, Ms. Matthews. Mr. Shepard wants you to know he has arranged for you to receive every accommodation during your stay.”

“My stay? Am I being held captive?” I asked, trying to get at least a smile out of the stodgy butler.

“No. Mr. Shepard just wanted to see to your comfort.”

“Oh, great. Where is the thoughtful Mr. Shepard?”

“He is currently indisposed.”

“Indisposed?”

“Yes, but he has directed me to tell you to turn your attention to the octagon.” He gestured toward the front of the room and disappeared through the mysterious door again.

“The octagon?” I asked, peering through the window dominating the space in front of me.

A serious-sized octagonal cage—basically, a mat with a fence around it— was in the center of the cement floor.

How had I missed that?

“Oh, my god. I’m at some kind of underground fight club,” I exclaimed as I sat back in disbelief.

A gripping drama unfolded in front of me as two men in the cage rushed each other, exchanging blows as the mob of people teeming with unbridled primal energy, feasted on the explosive violence.