The Bad Boy Billionaire's Wicked Arrangement (6 page)

She so kindly gave him the opportunity to live down to her expectations. She found herself holding her breath and glancing up at his impossibly handsome profile.

“Do you not want to marry me?” he asked, as if that had anything to do with it. She had not even considered it.

“Your Grace, I don’t even know you.”

“A minor detail, and one that is easily remedied.” Then he glanced down at her with dark eyes and a suggestive smile. “It would be a pleasure to become better acquainted.”

He said this, of course, in a manner that left no doubt as to what sort of pleasure or acquaintance he intended.

Jane Sparks

10 minutes ago near San Francisco, CA

Romantic weekend with my new fiancé! —with Duke Austen.

When we arrived at our hotel around lunch time, everyone from the check-in girls to the bellhops fawned over Duke.
Could they help him with anything? Did he need anything?
The girls, especially, checked him out. At first I had just seen a charismatic, but scruffy guy. But he was really good looking and he carried himself like he mattered, like nothing would stand in his way. That alone was incredibly sexy. I wondered, too, if they knew about the millions. These girls saw. And they wanted. He didn’t exactly rebuff them, either, treating them to seductive smiles that made a girl’s resolve just melt.

I coughed. “Ahem.”

Duke grabbed my hand. Kissed me on the lips. The girls sighed and looked away.

“See? You’re helping already, Sweater Set.”

Our room was a spacious suite on the top floor, with a balcony and a stunning view of the city. There was a king-sized bed in the bedroom. In the sitting room, in addition to comfortable couches and chairs there was a desk with a sleek new MacBook Air, plugged in and almost ready to go.

“Give me your vintage computer,” he said. “I have a lunch meeting to go to, but I want to get started transferring all your data.”

“Is that for me? I can’t accept that,” I stammered. I had looked longingly at them in the store until I saw the prices.

“This iPhone, too. Jane, I can’t date someone who uses outdated electronics. It’s like you dating someone illiterate. It wouldn’t work and it’s not remotely believable.”

“Thank you,” I said genuinely, grateful for the gift and oddly warmed by the thought and effort he had put into our fake relationship. “Who is your meeting with?”

“My CFO, Ethan. My lawyer. And our possible investor, Augustus Grey. Maybe some guys from the banks, too.”

“Is that what you’re wearing?” I eyed him warily. His outfit of jeans, sneakers and a threadbare Pets.com T-shirt didn’t exactly declare TAKE ME SERIOUSLY and TRUST ME WITH YOUR MONEY.

“Yeah,” he said, as if he’d heard this all before.

“Shouldn’t you put on a tie? Or a button-down shirt at least?”

Duke made a face. I just shrugged. “Whatever. I thought you wanted to appear respectable . . .” With a scowl, he stalked over to his suitcase and pulled out a wrinkled button down shirt and put that on over his T-shirt, leaving it open.

“For you, Sweater Set,” he said with a half smile. “But I don’t own a tie.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m off. We have a dinner thing at eight tonight. I’ll come back and pick you up. Stay out of trouble.”

“Isn’t that what I should say to you?”

Later

$(“.tie”).remove();

“Well don’t you look pretty,” Duke murmured when he arrived back at the room at quarter to eight.

“Just for you,” I replied. “And for whomever we are trying to impress at dinner tonight.” Duke had given me no indication of what to expect at this dinner—fancy? Casual? Big dinner party? Small, intimate gathering? Given our conversation this morning, I figured those fashion distinctions would be lost upon him so I wore a black shift dress, nude patent pumps, pearl stud earrings and a whisper-thin black cashmere cardigan. I spent an hour blowing out my hair.

“Oh, and I bought you something,” I said. He looked up at me from his iPhone, intrigued. I handed him the long, flat box. “Just a little thing from the gift shop.”

I had also gotten myself a something: a hefty princess cut engagement ring, made of the finest cubic zirconia Duke’s money could buy.

“Oh, Jane,” he said with a laugh when he opened the box and saw. “A tie?”

“You said you wanted to be respectable,” I protested.

“Yeah, but startup guys don’t wear ties.”

I rolled my eyes. I bit back thoughts of how handsome Sam looked when he dressed up in a suit. I could still recall the scent of wool and starched shirt. For our fifth anniversary, I’d gotten him silver cufflinks in the shape of books.

“Actually, do you know what we use ties for?” Duke asked in a slow, sexy manner that sent a tremor racing along my spine.

“No, and I’m not sure I want to,” I said. “We have to go to dinner.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he murmured, smiling and letting the grey silk fall through his hands. “C’mon here.”

I had a clue from the wicked gleam in his eye.

“We have to go to dinner in ten minutes.”

“We can be late.”

“I think that kind of attitude is what got you in trouble in the first place.”

“So what’s a little more? Besides, I thought we agreed that you didn’t get in enough trouble.”

“I don’t know how you get away with this kind of stuff,” I remarked. But I was intrigued. Tempted.

“Me neither,” he said with a laugh. “Close your eyes.”

I did. Oh, I did. I felt the silk cover my eyes and I felt him tie it in a knot at the back of my head. The world turned black and there was nothing but a heightened awareness of Duke’s nearness. I inhaled, breathing in the scent of him. I could feel the warmth of him oh so close. My nerves started waking up and wanting to feel his skin against mine.

Duke started with a kiss where my neck curved to my shoulder while he possessively held my waist and pulled me close. Kisses, higher, my lips parted, wanting, until finally his mouth crashed against mine.

His phone pinged. A tweet or text or whatever.

He ignored it and unzipped my dress, sliding his hands across the bare skin of my back. Would he take it off? Did I want him to? Yes. God, yes. His hands kept roaming, his touch kept in check by the dress, clinging haphazardly but still
on.
Even though he couldn’t see it, I was totally glad I had taken Roxanna’s advice and packed sexy underwear, just in case.

I reached out for him, fumbling and feeling the soft cotton of his T-shirt as I pushed it aside, needing to really feel him.

“I think I might tie you up later,” he murmured.

“We’ll see about that . . .” I whispered. And then I forgot about that when Duke’s palm closed over my breast and I gasped. The things he did . . . Bunching up my dress, his hand slid up to between my thighs, finding exactly the right spot and teasing me like crazy with slow, deliberate circles.

I unbuttoned his jeans. He sucked in his breath.

His phone started to ring. We ignored it. We kissed. We got a bit carried away.

Whoever called left a voicemail and then called again. Duke only pulled me closer and kissed me harder. Both of us, breathless. Both of us in ridiculous states of not-quite-undress.

Now the phone in the room started to ring.

“Sounds like someone wants to talk to you,” I whispered.

“I’m busy,” he murmured. Oh, I knew.

But the spell was broken.

“And I’m supposed to be making you respectable. And just look at me!”

“Oh, I am,” he replied with a lingering, heated glance that took in my wrinkled dress and messed up hair.

I tugged off the tie and tossed it to him. “Wear this tonight. It’s your turn.”

“If that’s how you want to play it, Jane . . .”

Chapter Seven

Word count: 10,251

Twitter followers: 621

Thoughts of Sam: 7

Thoughts of silk tie
and
. . . : 103

O
NE HUNDRED AND
fifty million dollars on the line. One hundred and fifty million dollars of investment could propel one of the fastest growing startups into one of the biggest companies ever created. As long as Duke didn’t fuck it up as he had in the past.

As we took the elevator down to the hotel restaurant I smoothed out my dress and thought about the money. I had learned, thanks to some Googling, that almost all the other VC’s had passed. It seemed the success of Project-TK was reliant on a successful monetization strategy of their huge user base. Success was also a little too reliant on Duke’s brilliant coding and magnetic personality. Unfortunately, he was notoriously unreliable.

I was here to help Duke convince the renowned venture capitalist, Augustus Grey, to pony up one hundred and fifty million dollars
and
to make Duke retained control of his precious company.

I was
not
here to indulge in tie-me-up, make-me-late-for-dinner sex. Already, this farce was off to a bad start. We were late to dinner.

The elevator doors pinged and opened.

“What are you doing?” I asked. He was fixated on his phone again.

“I’m checking in,” he replied.

“Should I do that?”

“Go for it.”

“Oh, look we get extra points for checking in together!” I exclaimed. I had no idea what the points were for, but I had extra!

“Shhh,” Duke said, rolling his eyes. “You’re supposed to know that since you’ve been on Foursquare for months and we’ve checked in a million times together.”

“Right,” I said, adjusting my dress, my cardigan, my hair . . . oh God, my hair. My blow-out hadn’t quite survived our make-out.

As we approached the restaurant, we were directed to a private room where a bunch of guys like Duke milled about, drinks in hand. Not one of them wore a tie.

“So this might not be the intimate deal-closing dinner I had expected,” Duke murmured to me as we crossed the lobby to the restaurant. “It looks like we have competition. Grey loves nothing more than to pit people against each other.”

“I’m a librarian. Not an actress.”

“No, you’re a writer. Tonight you just have to compose your lines on the fly.”

I smiled as we strolled up to the legendary VC, Augustus Grey. He was a distinguished guy probably in his forties with greying hair. His eyes were his most striking feature: blue, keen, intelligent and sharp. They missed nothing, those eyes. Nervously, I reached for Duke’s hand. I didn’t think we’d be able to pull this off. Beside him stood a young, handsome man. Duke whispered that he was Ethan Parks, the CFO of Project-TK.

“Duke Austen deigns to grace us with his presence. I am so honored,” Augustus said dryly. Not a good start.

“I fancied some extra spending money so I thought I’d drop by,” Duke said and I gasped audibly. I glanced up and saw him grinning. Ethan smiled tightly.

“As impertinent as ever. How predictable. How dull,” Augustus replied.

“My sincerest apologies,” Duke said. “I forget we are all here for the amusement of an ornery old investor.”

“You’ll do well to remember it, Duke. I might be the only investor you’ve got,” Augustus replied with a pointed look. I couldn’t believe the way these two spoke to each other. No wonder Duke had the reputation he did. If Duke secured the funding, it would be because of some criteria and formula that I’d never discern—and not because of his manners or respect for authority.

And then, all eyes shifted to me.

“This is my fiancé, Jane Sparks.” Duke smiled and pulled me close as he performed the introductions—August looked skeptical and Ethan devolved into a sudden coughing fit.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Grey,” I said.

“Are you really?”

For a moment I was taken aback by his abruptness.

“Yes,” I said smiling. “I’m also very nervous.” That brought a reluctant smile to his face.

“I suppose he warned you about this dinner,” Augustus said. “Lots business and tech talk. I hope you’re not too bored.”

“I’m sure it can’t be any worse than a blind date,” I replied nervously.

“Ah, but you’re not dating any more. You’ve snared this . . . gentleman,” Augustus said in a manner suggesting that he used the term “gentleman” loosely.

“He’s alright,” I said smiling, “But it wouldn’t hurt if he cleaned up a bit.”

I was rewarded with a faint smile and gruff nod of approval.

“While I am just delighted you two are getting so well, I think Jane would like to meet the other guests,” Duke said, taking my hand in his.

“I can’t imagine she would,” Augustus said. “They’re a giant lot of boorish fortune hunters.”

Said batch of boorish fortune hunters had the decency to shift awkwardly, glance down at their drinks and seem dismayed by the pronouncement. But it was the truth: funding from Augustus Grey could be the key to their success. Duke and I were no different.

Dinner was a disaster.

If only the dinner conversation consisted of business and tech talk. Boredom would have been welcomed. Instead, Augustus and the others had questions about Duke and me.

We all took seats around a long, sleek wooden table. Chandeliers with Edison bulbs hung overhead. Each place setting contained fine, handmade porcelain plates, silver cutlery and delicate glasses. The restaurant was homemade, rustic chic that served farm-to-table fare.

Duke and I found ourselves sitting on either side of Augustus. Was it a mark of favor—or was he suspicious about our engagement?

“Welcome to dinner,” Augustus began, raising his glass. “I know you all are ruthlessly competing for funding. If you are at this table, it’s because I think your startup has promise. But I’ll probably only decide to fund one of your companies.”

“What criteria are you looking for?” asked a youngish guy with thick, black-framed glasses.

“I choose the winner based on criteria I will not disclose.” His reply was followed by the sound of disgruntled murmurs up and down the table. “It is non-negotiable,” Augustus said firmly. “If you do not think this fair, take to Twitter and see if anyone cares. Remember that you are free to leave at any time. Nor was your presence here required. In fact some of your presences were not even requested,” Augustus said with a pointed look at Duke, who adopted an expression of utter innocence and said, “Fortunately, we have corrected that appalling oversight.”