Stirring Up Trouble (Inspiring the Greek Billionaire) (18 page)

He smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Trust me.” He kissed her cheek then strolled over to the mega-producer. “Mr. Baker, I’m Braden Angelopoulos. I own
Acropolis
.”

“Please, call me Rand.”

After shaking the music icon’s hand, he led the man into the restaurant and sat him at a table in front of the stage. “Lola is just finishing up with the health inspector and then she’ll give you a concert you’ll never forget. She’s really special. I expect you to take good care of her out in California.”

No matter where she went, he’d keep tabs on her and would destroy anyone who failed to treat her with the respect she deserved.

Rand lifted the glass of
ouzo
Jenny brought him and tilted his head. “Let’s see how today goes before we make plans about California. But based on what Alexander had to say about her, I’m guessing I’ll like what I hear. He never steered me wrong.” Rather than sipping it as was customary, he slammed the shot.

“You knew him well?”

“We went to college together. He was quite a musician himself. Had a good ear for talent, too. I offered to make him a partner, but he had a different dream. We stayed in touch though. He was a good man. Argumentative and stubborn, but he had a big heart. I miss him already.”

Alexander was an enigma. Worth billions, he’d obviously exerted great power judging by his ability to maneuver everyone like pieces in a real life chess game. But what had motivated him to play matchmaker?

Braden watched Lola salute the inspector again, hand the woman a plate of
baklava
, and lead her to Frank’s table. Looked like Alexander wasn’t the only one who played matchmaker.

Lola caught his eye and winked as she crossed the room to him, appearing every bit the Siren of his dreams.

Rand stood. “You must be Viola Dubrovsky.”

Her eyes widened in awe. “Yes. But you can call me Lola. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She shook his hand and stared. “If you’ll have a seat, I just need a minute to get ready.”

Rand gave her a huge smile. “Take all the time you need.” He walked over to speak with George and Reina.

“How’d it go with Nora?”

She bowed. “I passed. In fact, I think I know the health code better than her. She told me I should apply for a job.”

He didn’t doubt she could do anything she put her mind to, but he chuckled at the image of Lola all buttoned up with a briefcase in hand. “I want to thank you for everything.”

“You don’t need to thank—”

When she playfully slapped his chest, he seized her wrist and pulled her close. It was time to come clean. “Shh. It’s not just that. Though I appreciate all you’ve done for
Acropolis.
I need to tell you something I’ve never told anyone.” He held onto her tighter. “I was married once.”

Her jaw dropped. “How did I not know this?”

“I’ve never even told Ryan. I met Theresa at a party in college, and from the moment I saw her, I knew I had to make her mine. When she told me she was engaged, I didn’t care. If anything, it made me want her more. I’d been on a two-day drinking bender, and I became convinced she could save me from becoming my father.”

“What happened?”

“I pursued her. Vigorously. I used every trick in the book. Flowers, jewelry, anything and everything money could buy. Through it all, she remained true to her fiancé, a soldier overseas. One day, I kissed her. I told her I wanted to spend my life with her. That I’d never leave her and I wanted to marry her. And do you know what she did?”

She frowned. “Slap you silly?”

He swallowed, ashamed of his actions all these years later. “No. She called off her engagement just like I’d wanted. We flew to Vegas, got married on Saturday and returned to school on Sunday. By Monday, I realized I’d made a huge mistake and asked for an annulment.”

He waited for Lola to storm off in disgust, but instead, she moved closer. “Do you know what happened to her?” she asked. “Did she get back together with her fiancé?”

He shook his head. “The last time I checked, she was single and in medical school.” Hurting Theresa was his biggest regret. That is, until he’d hurt Lola. “For a long time, I was convinced I was just like my parents. I couldn’t do commitment.”

“What changed?” Lola whispered.

He dragged a finger down the sweep of her neck. “I fell in love with you.”

Her breathing hitched. “Braden—”

“Here,” he interrupted, not wanting to hear she was still leaving. He dug a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to her. “I wrote these lyrics to go with the music you were working on. You left the sheet music in my office. You don’t have to, but I hope you’ll sing it today. I think it’s just what you need to get that recording contract.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Thank you.”

He tilted his chin toward the stage. “Go up there and give us a show.”

Her lips parted as if she was planning to speak, but instead, she took a shaky breath and nodded as she moved to the stage, the silky fabric of her dress clinging to her provocatively.

She took a seat and rested the guitar on her lap. In lieu of a spotlight, Portia had lit dozens of candles around Lola’s stool in a half-circle. As the flames flickered and danced, she’d never looked more beautiful—until she sang that first sultry note, and then it was as if she were casting a spell on the entire room. For a moment, she was the Siren, Euterpe, summoning them all to her rock. The first two songs she’d chosen to sing were quirky, up-tempo, feel-good numbers which had everyone bopping their heads and smiling in enjoyment.

He stole a couple quick glances at Rand Baker. The music producer’s face remained dispassionate, his demeanor detached, except for the slight tapping of his feet to the beat of the music. No one was immune to Lola’s charms.

After the applause died down, she removed his song from under her chair and quickly read the lyrics. Tears in her eyes, she placed it on her lap and smoothed out the creases. “This is a brand new song. I haven’t played it before, and I hope I can do it justice.”

Before I lose my chance to tell you there will never be another.

Distance won’t change the hands of fate or make me not your lover.

I’ll let you go, I’ll set you free to discover who you need to be.

But wherever you go, you’ll always take with you the very best part of me.

Whoever says time heals all wounds, never spent a night with you.

I’ll always save you from your rock at sea.

You know just where to find me. 

I’ll always save you from your rock at sea.

You know just where to find me.

I’m here. Please come and find me.

On the final note of the song, the crowd gave her a standing ovation and tears slid down Lola’s cheeks. A slight warm breeze blew through the room, distinguishing all the candles on the stage, plummeting her into darkness.

Rand and George met Lola at the bottom of the stairs of the stage and spoke in hushed tones. There wasn’t a chance in the world the music producer wouldn’t offer her a contract. In less than twenty-four hours, Lola would leave for California.

Lola shook Rand’s hand then glanced at Braden. Arms linked, she and George left the producer by the bar, along with some dessert and liquor, and made their way across the room to Braden. When she stood in front of him, close enough to scent the lavender of her skin, he fought the compulsion to throw her over his shoulder and lock her up in his mansion. Instead, he played it cool as his heart pounded as if it was the beat to a rap song.

George smiled fondly at Lola. “I’m happy to report my future daughter-in-law has passed all the audits and met the conditions of the Will.” He laughed and turned to Braden. “And with the tape she made of Jon, I can assure you he will not bother you again. In fact, he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t go to jail.” Growing serious, he tilted his head toward Lola. “Have you decided what to do about the lease?”

Although she answered George, she kept her gaze on him. “Braden can have the lease for as long as he wants it. I’m sure Ryan and Portia will want to celebrate all their anniversaries here.”

Not giving a crap about the lease, he didn’t know how to react. Didn’t she have any response to his song?

George clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Like Portia and Ryan, you’ve inherited five million dollars for completing the conditions. Chump change for you, Braden, but—”

Braden interrupted, eager to skip over the details and get to the heart of the matter. “I’ll donate mine to Portia and Ryan’s arts foundation for underprivileged children.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that,” George said.

Lola licked her lips. “I’m going to donate mine as well.”

Braden innocently placed a hand on her shoulder then snatched it back. She didn’t belong to him anymore. “You should hang on to it. I’ve no doubt you’ll be a huge sensation in Hollywood, but until then you’re going to need money to live on.”

She grabbed his hand. “No I won’t, because I’m not going to California.”

Everything stopped. Around them, the room grew pitch black. Everyone else disappeared. Only he and Lola remained, a single candle allowing them to see each other. “You’re not?”

She moved closer, throwing her arms around his neck. “I turned down Rand’s contract. I decided I’ve moved enough for one lifetime. I’d like to try staying in one place for a change.” Her eyes glowed. “I love you, too.”

He slammed his lips over hers and crushed her against him in a dominant claiming, a silent promise of their future together. She melted against his chest as he ran his hands over the silk of her dress as he’d desperately craved all night.

Ripping his mouth away, he slid his fingers up her neck into her pink hair, bracing the back of her skull in his hand. “You’re really turning down a record deal?”

Her eyes flashed with arousal at his show of possession. “It’s not my dream anymore.”

“What is?”

A slow smile spread over her face. “I thought I’d help you cross over into the catering business.”

“Just as long as you stay out of the kitchen.”

“Hey, the critic loved our food. Of course, it helps that I can manipulate pheromones. If I cook for all the critics—”

He kissed her. “The only one you’re cooking for is me. But you know, I’m a billionaire with a music studio in my mansion. You don’t need Rand Baker to make a record. Hell, I can buy you a record label if you want.”

“Tempting. How ‘bout we start as a tag team? I’ll write the music, you write the lyrics.”

Someday soon he’d put his ring on her finger and show everyone she belonged to him and only him. For now, he’d take as much as she was willing to give. “Move back in with me. Not because you want to avoid your mother or because we have to because of the conditions of a Will, but because you want to. Because I want to. I want to wake up with you drooling on my chest. I want you in my kitchen making coffee. I want to make love with you every night in our bed. I want to lick my way around every tattoo on your body.”

She slapped a hand over his heart. “Save it, Romeo. I already have an answer for you inked on my back.”

He nuzzled the side of her neck. “What is it?”

She moaned softly. “It’s your most valuable possession.
Acropolis
.”

He cradled her face between his hands. “But
Acropolis
isn’t my most valued possession. You are.”

Thank you for reading Stirring Up Trouble!

Did you miss Portia and Ryan’s story?

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Sway With Me

Available now from Soul Mate Publishing!

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CHAPTER ONE

Tell me where is fancy bred,

Or in the heart, or in the head?

How begot, how nourished?

William Shakespeare,
Merchant of Venice,
act 3, scene 2

With anticipation surging through his veins, Ryan Sullivan strolled into the decadent marbled lobby of the most desirable office building in downtown Detroit. He didn’t believe in luck, but if Uncle Alexander came through for him, he’d believe in luck, fate, karma, and Santa Claus. Images of gold mines, Standardbred racehorses, and Greek islands danced in his head. What had his uncle bequeathed him? One of the recycling companies? The entire conglomerate? Or even better, plain cold cash?

When he’d gotten the phone call yesterday from a man claiming to be his uncle’s attorney, he’d almost hung up thinking his friend Braden was pranking him. Once he’d realized the lawyer meant business, Ryan had nearly fallen out of his chair. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve an inheritance, but he wouldn’t argue. Out of everyone in his family, he needed it most. Maybe now he could finally afford to move out of Braden’s house.

After a sleepless night spent envisioning the myriad of possibilities, he’d hopped out of bed before his alarm blared and left a half-hour earlier than necessary to get downtown. Of course, he hadn’t foreseen an accident closing the exit to the attorney’s office, or the construction which reduced the traffic to one lane, or missing the turn to get back on the highway. Luckily, his GPS gave him a shortcut through the neighborhoods.

Although he’d worked in the city before he was laid-off, that part-time legal aid job had rarely called for home visits. Only this morning, he drove down Detroit’s narrow, torn-up streets and observed firsthand the poor condition of the homes. With their broken windows, missing shingles, crumbling brick, and stripped aluminum siding, the houses appeared unfit for inhabitation, but the presence of dented cars in the driveways confirmed people actually lived there. The yards inundated by weeds and tall grass provided the perfect habitat for rats, which according to local news reports, grew to the size of a typical house cat. Didn’t the owners have any pride in their homes and neighborhoods?

Now, glancing around at the gleaming marble and Pewabic tile, the dichotomy between this ostentatious lobby and the houses located only a mile away wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t have the time to wallow in the injustices of the world. In a few short minutes, he’d hopefully go from living on the bottom floor to luxuriating in the penthouse.

His adrenaline pumping, Ryan glanced at his Movado watch and stepped into the empty elevator. Only five minutes late. He blew out a breath and pressed the button for the fifth floor. With a
ding
, the doors began to slide shut.

“Hold the elevator,” a husky female voice requested. A petite foot, encased in a black high heel shoe, wedged itself between the doors.

And what a foot.

The elevator doors bounced open, slowly revealing the foot’s owner. He dragged his gaze from the foot up the shapely calf, momentarily lingering, then continued up a deliciously toned, milky-white thigh . . . Swallowing hard, he slid his focus to the black fabric which hid what he was already dying to see. His intense perusal skipped over slim hips, to rest on a conservative, yet tight-fitted, black suit jacket, which accentuated a tiny waist, but sadly, concealed the size of her breasts. Ryan almost didn’t want to continue his examination, fearing her face would ruin the perfect fantasy.

Oh, what the hell. He’d only live once.

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