For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance) (20 page)

Her eyes shone. “Then it means you lo—”

“And I’m telling you right now, it’s not possible.”

Oh.
But refusing to be disappointed, she insisted, “But what if—”

“Lane.”

“I just think we should give it a chance and see if we lo—”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to show you my bank account.”

“What?” She didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted by his threat.

“And I’m warning you, it has a lot of zeroes in it.”

Amusement won, and a giggle escaped.

“So if I were you, I’d back off. If you force my hand, I’ll have no choice but to let you know just how many homes I own—”

She started to laugh.

“Or would you rather I start with my yachts—”

“I surrender,” she interrupted him laughingly. “You win.”

“Good girl. Now come here—” He hauled her to him with a complete lack of grace, making her laugh again. His arms closed around her, and then she felt his lips brush the top of her head.

 
“I’m sorry for breaking my promise, tesoro.”

Oh.

“Ask me anything in return and I will give it to you as long as it’s within my power. Do you want your own island? A yacht? A twenty-carat—”

“Shut up,” she mumbled even though she couldn’t help laughing at the outrageous things he was offering.
 

She felt him smile over her head. “Anything within my power,” he murmured. “Remember that.”

Anything,
she thought, and it came to her then. She whispered slowly, “I do have something I want.”

“Tell me.”

“I want to attend one of your parties.”

Chapter Twelve

Dylan Charbonneau, lead vocalist for Minuit Rouge, strode down the expansive hallways with the confidence of one who was long familiar with the ins and outs of Angelo Valencia’s home. And so he was, although the paparazzi had yet to discover it.

Once in a while, he would be forced to stop, with the women of Angelo’s staff unable to stop themselves from asking to have their photos taken with him. The rockstar obliged every request, and the maids sighed dreamily when he walked away. How gorgeous and sexy he was!
 

If only he wasn’t engaged,
they thought sadly.

Upon reaching the entrance to the patio, the rockstar stopped dead in his tracks, his hand stilling on the steel handle of the glass doors separating the main house from the garden.

Was he truly seeing this?

Angelo Valencia III, a man infamous for his rigid control and conservative manners, backing away with clumsy haste and being stalked by…a girl half his size?

The girl was dark-haired and beautiful, and with the kind of curves he knew Angelo was fond of. Her taste in clothes was a bit questionable, though, and Dylan was surprised the billionaire had made no attempt to have her wear something else.
 

“Just let me go!”

His eyebrows shot up at the girl’s words. She had momentarily stopped her pursuit of his friend and was glaring up at Angelo, hands planted on her hips.
 

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Angelo snapped. “The answer is no!”

Interesting
, Dylan thought. This was the first time he heard of Angelo refusing to let a woman go. Normally, most women would cry and beg to keep Angelo as their lover.

“But you promised—”

“Because I thought you were going to use your brains,” Angelo snapped.

Now, Dylan was stunned. Angelo worshipped the rules of propriety, and yet here he was, practically telling the girl she was an idiot.

“It’s just a party,” the girl argued.

“It’s not any kind of party, and you know it.” Angelo’s voice became final. “You will not change my mind on this. You will not go to the party, and that’s it.”

Dylan blinked. So this heated argument…was over tonight’s party?
 

Crazy,
the rockstar thought.

“Just let me try, please.”

“You
fainted
upon encountering three strangers in my hallway,” Angelo pointed out curtly. “My parties’ guest lists can have as many as three hundred names—”

The dark-haired girl gave the billionaire a mulish look.

Angelo rolled his eyes. “That won’t work on me.”

She lifted her chin. “If you don’t let me, I’m going to kiss you, and I don’t care if you say we can’t do it just because I didn’t get to call home. I’m going to kiss you and—”

Dylan blinked again. Well, that threat was—

He saw Angelo back a step away from the girl.

Effective
, he thought incredulously. The threat actually worked!

“Do not be foolish.” But instead of sounding furious, Angelo’s voice was thick with desire.

Dylan shook his head. Poor man. He knew that look on his friend’s face. He was a goner, and it was time to lend the billionaire a hand. He pushed the door open, stepping inside as he said innocently, “Am I interrupting something?”

Angelo’s head swiveled in his direction. “Charbonneau.”
 

The girl glanced his way, too – just before gasping and running away…to hide behind a row of bushes.

Okaaaaay.

His fans did a lot of weird things when meeting Dylan for the first time, but that one right there could probably make it to his top ten.

Angelo strode forward to welcome his friend. “Glad to see you, Charbonneau.”
 

Dylan shook his hand, asking, “Seriously, Valencia, am I interrupting some kind of kinky role playing—”

An embarrassed squeak emerged from behind the bushes.

Dylan stopped speaking, but Angelo relaxed at the sound
. Good
, he thought. She didn’t sound like she was on the verge of collapsing. That was all that mattered. Clearing his throat, he turned to face his friend and murmured, “It’s, err, a long story.”
 

“Ah.” He glanced towards the bushes and saw the girl peeking at them over it. She gasped and disappeared from view. Repressing his smile with an effort, Dylan commented lightly, “She’s different from your usual, isn’t she?”

Knowing that Lane was listening, Angelo drawled, “She’s crazy.”

“Am not.” The words floated out of the bushes like a deeply affronted ghost had uttered them.

Dylan’s eyes widened. “I think I know who she is.” He said slowly, “March told us about this girl in CU—” When Angelo’s face suddenly became inscrutable, Dylan knew he had guessed right and he started laughing. “No way, man. I thought March was lying, but she’s real? The girl who’s gotten you running away from your own shadow? That’s her, right?”

A gasp from the bushes.

“Go fuck yourself,” Angelo said pleasantly.

But the rockstar only laughed harder. “And you’re
still
running away from her?”

He gestured to the doors behind Dylan. “Exit’s that way.”

Dylan did his best to control his amusement. “Fine, man. I can take a hint.” He cleared his throat. “So…I get why you’re, umm,
avoiding
her. Not running away, you understand,” Dylan said with exaggerated earnestness, “but just avoiding her.”

“Please. Don’t mind me. Fuck off.”

Dylan was impressed. “That’s twice you’ve sworn in the past five minutes. I didn’t even know you know how to use the F-bomb outside the bedroom.” Angelo’s eyes flashed in warning, and he coughed. “That’s the last dig. Word of honor.”

Angelo shook his head, muttering, “I hope Bree realizes what an ass you are and dates Steel March behind your back.”

Dylan scowled. “Below the belt, Valencia.” But the thought, even though impossible, was enough to wipe any smile from the rockstar’s face. He nodded towards Miss Girl in Hiding, asking, “Is she going to stay there the entire time?”

“It depends. Will you excuse me for a moment?” And without waiting for his friend’s reply, he turned and swiftly made his way to Lane.

She was seated on the grass, arms around herself, knees tucked under her chin. She looked up as his shadow fell over her, and she said glumly, “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me
I told you so
.”

He crouched down beside her. “Actually,” he drawled piously, “I was going to tell you that at least you didn’t faint.”
 

She made a face, knowing she had given him the ammunition he needed to keep her out of his parties.

“Do you think you can survive an introduction to him?”

“I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “You didn’t tell me your friend was
Dylan Charbonneau
.”

Angelo’s gaze narrowed at the way Lane spoke of Dylan.
So she recognized him
, he thought broodingly. He had thought Lane’s panic was because Dylan’s presence had taken her by surprise, but now he realized it was because she had recognized who the rockstar was.
 

The fact not sitting well with him at all, Angelo gracefully came to his feet, saying with deceptive kindness, “You don’t need to meet him if you don’t want to.”

Thinking that Angelo might use the situation as an excuse to keep her locked in her room again, she quickly shook her head. “No, actually, I think you’re right.” She scrambled to her feet, saying brightly, “If I really want to attend your parties, I should start practicing now. Right?”

Too late, Angelo realized that his plan had backfired and now there was no way he’d keep Lane from meeting Dylan. He said reluctantly, “If you’re sure—”

Lane gave him a determined smile. “Positive.”

Fuck.
 

Angelo changed tactics, and lowering his voice, he said, “He’s known to be touchy-feely with women.”

Her brows furrowed. “But I thought he’s changed ever since he got back together with his fiancée?”

He stared at her incredulously. “Are you actually one of his
fangirls
?” His lip curled at the last word, and if she said yes, friend or no friend, he was kicking Charbonneau out of his home.

“Don’t say it like that,” she protested. “And stop glaring at me. I just really like his band’s music.”
 

Normally, Angelo found Lane’s pink cheeks adorable, but right now it was the last thing he wanted to see. “Stop that,” he hissed, completely losing his cool.

“Stop what?”

“Blushing,” he almost roared.

Oh. Lane’s eyes widened as the truth dawned on her. “Oh gosh. Are you feeling jea—”

“Hold that thought,” he said curtly as he took her hands and brought them up to her cheeks. “Keep it there and stay here. I’ve changed my mind. You’re not going to talk to him.” He stalked away.

“But—”

He stopped, turned to face her again, and pointed to the bushes. “Stay.”

“Stop treating me like a puppy.”

“Stay.”

He walked back to Dylan and announced unhesitatingly, “She’s still too shy to talk to you, I’m afraid.”

“Then…how come she’s waving hi at me?”

Angelo’s teeth gnashed when he realized it was true. When Dylan was about to wave back, he snapped, “You’re wrong. She’s not waving at you. She’s doing finger exercises for her therapy.”
 

The rockstar raised a brow. That was the lamest piece of bullshit he had ever heard, and he had a hard time accepting it came from Angelo Valencia, of all people.

He shook his head, saying, “March was right about you two.”
 

“Whatever it is,” Angelo advised, “keep it to yourself.”

“Unfortunately—” Dylan grinned. “I’m extremely bad at taking advice.” He nodded towards the girl, saying under his breath, “I’ve never known you to be this crazy about a girl.”

Angelo remained silent.