LOVE AND HATE (A Billionaire Romance) (2 page)

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Which brings me to the present. To my brain-splitting hangover, and to the luxurious hotel room I found myself in. I saw a garment crumpled on the floor. A dress so tacky it had to be expensive, blues and greens, glittery like a mermaid. What the hell had I done? The pieces started to fall into place, dropping from the ceiling like Tetris blocks. This was Scott Creed’s room. Putting the pieces together to the best of my muddled knowledge, I had, over the course of a night, become Scott Creed’s wife.

Scott

I probably would never have noticed the brunette at the bar if she hadn’t dumped her drink on my shoe. The martini glass had been filled with something pink and sweet, and she managed to soak the lower part of my pant leg, my sock, and my eight-hundred-dollar Burberry wingtip.

She wasn’t my usual style—I’m not much of a hunter. I let them come to me. Short skirts, high heels, expensive hair. The girl with the drink seemed much more natural, like someone who wasn’t out trolling for a good time. She wore nice slacks, low sling back heels, and a sleeveless top. When she bent over my foot with her napkins, trying to sop up the mess, I could see the contours of her white bra and the tanned flesh of her breasts. Exciting.

“I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz. The floor jumped up at me! We are spinning, after all”

We were in the bar at the top of the Stratosphere, all of Las Vegas rotating beneath us. I usually stick to classier establishments, but this one had always been my favorite. My friend Ryan and I were visiting Vegas this week to blow off some steam and have some fun, so I could make peace with my debauchery. It was time to settle down.

Even thinking the words made me cringe.

I had plans next Thursday to ask Giuliana PostvanderBerg to be my wife. Every time I reminded myself of this fact, I made a face like I’d bitten into a lemon. I knew she was looking for a husband. She had scads of cash from her first husband and her father, had all the right breeding, and she was gorgeous. I couldn’t pull off the Creed-Hall merger without shedding my playboy ways, and a match with a wealthy socialite would show them I was serious.

Giuliana was a bore, slightly mean, and a bit of a drunk, but I could manage her the way most of our set managed our spouses. We’d each take a lover—or several—after a few months, but as long as everything looked good for the Creed-Hall merger, and as long as we both were discreet, our marriage would be fantastic. In a year or so we would quietly divorce and go our separate ways.

I’d run my idea by her at a fundraiser for the New York Philharmonic, and half in the bag, she’d said it sounded like an excellent offer. She’d subtly groped my crotch, then staggered away. I could work with this.

For now, though, I was in Vegas mode. No consequences, no repercussions. I could do what I pleased for the next two nights. Giuliana and responsibility waited for me across the continent.

“Let me get you another drink,” I offered the woman.

“I should be getting you a drink! I may have ruined your shoe. I’m so sorry.”

“Scott Creed.”

“Mackenzie Taylor.” She stuck out her hand, and we shook. Her fingers were sticky from the drink. I reevaluated her figure under her clothes as we spoke. Some curves, generous tits, amazing ass. Her slacks were off the rack and didn’t fit quite right, the top bunched weirdly, and as I’d noticed before, when she bent over she gave the whole world a killer view. She might be fun for the evening.

“What are you drinking, Mackenzie Taylor?”

“Flirtini.” She tried to say it with a straight face, then laughed. “What a stupid name for a drink, you know? Who calls something that?
Flirtini
.”

“Whatever the lady wants, she shall have. No matter how stupid the name.”

I also noticed a stripe of untanned skin on her ring finger on her left hand. Was Mrs. Taylor stepping out on Mr. Taylor? This whole encounter just got more interesting. I slipped an arm around her waist, and she snuggled against me. I bought her the flirtini, and another, then we moved to tequila shots. Ms. Taylor, I learned, could drink.

We returned to the Bellagio, walking down the strip through the throngs of people. She gazed around like she’d never seen anything like it, and we paused at each of the casino’s flamboyant facades. She took her heels off and walked the last stretch in her bare feet. I took her to the exclusive Oak45 club near the Bellagio’s top floor. We sat in a dark corner of the bar, plush little couches gathered in a circle where a group of people could sit. We faced tall windows overlooking the fountains—currently dormant—and Paris and Bally’s.

Neither of us were steady on our feet at this point. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pointed at the tan line on her hand. “Does Mr. Taylor know you’re out with me tonight?”

Mackenzie’s face fell, and she pulled away from me. Busted, lady. Did she really think I wouldn’t notice the tanned spot on her finger? This was not my first rodeo.

She stood up and wobbled but resisted when I reached out to steady her. “I should go,” she said.

Damn, I wished I had kept my mouth shut. “Hey, look, we’re in Vegas. What happens here stays here. If you don’t mind, I don’t mind.”

“It’s not what you think.”

My laugh was crueler than I’d intended. “It never is.”

“No, I mean it. I caught him in bed with his personal trainer.”

Ouch. “Man or woman?”

“Woman.” She paused a moment and smirked. “I guess it could have been worse.”

“It can always be worse. So you caught them in bed together? I’m happy to be your sweet revenge.”

“I left him.”

“How long were you married?”

“We weren’t. We were engaged. The wedding was in January.”

“He couldn’t even wait before he started cheating?”

Mackenzie crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at me. “I should really go. I’m here on work.”

“Your boss sent you to Vegas? They’ll understand if you’re a little hungover in the morning.”

“Oh, I’m going to be hungover in the morning, alright.”

“I want to help you forget your ex.”

A tiny smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. The more time I spent with her, the prettier, more beautiful she became. And more intriguing.

“What are you into, Mr. Creed?” She sat again, though not cuddled up close to me like she had been before.

“Like, sex stuff?” My mind was on a single track. I couldn’t help it.
Dominating you, Mackenzie Taylor. Making you do things you’ve never imagined doing.

“No. Like in your life. What gets you excited?”

Oh. That answer wasn’t as easy. I didn’t say “money” because I knew how it would make me sound. I hadn’t discussed my financials with Mackenzie yet. She obviously knew I had money, but the scope of my wealth would have made her pretty head spin. Everything I could think of that I liked all came back to money. Not cool, Scott. What happened to you?

“Hiking,” I answered. How long had it been since I was out in the woods, just me and nature? “Craft beer. You?”

“What’s your passion?”

Again, money. Screw it, it’s a one-night thing. She can go if she doesn’t like it. “Money.”

She cocked her head. “How so?”

“I have… a lot of it. It’s like a garden. I like to grow it, and maintain it, and spend it.”

“Investments?”

“Many of them.”

“I’m picturing Scrooge McDuck diving into his money bin.”

“Now the
Duck Tales
song is stuck in my head. Do you know what would actually happen if you tried to dive into a bin of gold coins like Scrooge does?”

“I don’t know, but from my basic knowledge of physics and the expression on your face, I can’t imagine it’s good.”

I laughed. Mackenzie Taylor was a funny lady. “Let’s just say telescoping spine.”

“Not pleasant. I’d imagine it’s hard to clean the gore off the coins.”

I couldn’t resist. I reached for her, pulled her to me, and kissed her on her plump, luscious lips. She froze, and for a moment I thought I’d made a mistake, moved in too fast. Then she softened in my arms, her hand finding the back of my neck. Her lips parted, and she tasted like raspberries and flirtini. Her mouth was small, I noticed, and my imagination burned. I sat back on the plush couch and pulled her on top of me. She fell on me, legs wide, and she looked around to see who watched the gratuitous PDA.

“It’s Vegas, baby, no one cares,” I reassured her, my hands clasping her ass.

“I care,” she whispered into my mouth.

I was so used to being with women who only wanted me for my money, who wanted a quick roll in the hay because I own a yacht and I’ve got a six pack. Hearing her say that ignited something in me. I can’t lie: alcohol played a part.

“I have an idea,” I murmured against her lips. “Let’s get married.”

She laughed. “I’m drunk, but I’m not that drunk.” (Spoiler: she totally was that drunk.)

“No, seriously.” The more my whiskey-infused brain latched on to the idea, the more I liked it. To hell with Giuliana PostvanderBerg, I wanted Mackenzie Taylor. “It’ll protect your honor, and you won’t have to deal with cheating dirt bags ever again.”

She turned her big brown eyes at me full force, like dual laser beams. “Promise?”

The booze answered for me, full of enthusiasm. “I promise.”

The waiter brought the next round of drinks we’d requested. A pair of tequila shots and some beers as chasers. We slammed the shots, and Mackenzie yelled a little “whoop” of victory.

“You don’t think we’re too drunk for this, do you?” We chugged the two beers, clinking our bottles at the end.

“No way.” I grabbed my phone and called one of the chapels—they send a limo to the hotel to pick you up. The guy on the phone said the Clark County Clerk was open for another twenty minutes, and the limo would be happy to stop there on the way to the chapel. “You’d better hurry, then.” Sounded good to me. What a magical place that the clerk stayed open until midnight.

“I didn’t expect to wear this at my wedding,” Mackenzie giggled. She texted her friend Susie, I texted Ryan, but neither of them answered us. They snooze, they lose.

“We’ll get the license, we’ll get you a dress, then we’ll get married. It’s all good.” She loved it. She loved the limo. “Baby, you’ll get used to this if you stick with me.”

“I have to stick with you! I’m going to be your wife tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow seems so far away.”

God, I can’t remember the last time I laughed as much as I did with her in that limo. The clerk didn’t want to give us a license because we were both drunk. I asked Mackenzie to step aside, and I leaned in close to the poor woman who probably just wanted to wrap up for the day and go to bed. “It’s not a bribe because those are illegal,” I whispered. “But I’ll give you ten thousand dollars right now if you sign the slip.”

“Sir, you don’t have ten thousand dollars.”

I showed it to her, and I saw her eyes turn to dollar signs. My signature and Mackenzie’s were sloppy but legally binding. We kissed right there in the clerk’s office, running our hands all over one another. The clerk let us do whatever we wanted. She was a happy camper.

“I want to be a mermaid for my wedding. Can I do that?”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

We swung by the mall in Caesar’s Palace, and she found a dress that made her look like a mermaid, green and shimmering. The strapless top barely held her breasts in place, and I couldn’t wait to get back to my room to take it off her and make love to my new wife. The back cut so low she had to stick the underwear she’d worn in her purse. I ran my hand over her bare flesh. This was the best idea I’d ever had.

As we waited for the ceremony to begin, my phone buzzed. Ryan.
What the hell are you doing! Stop! Now!

He called me, and I hit ignore. Elvis asked me if I would take this beautiful mermaid to be my wife, and I enthusiastically said yes.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Mackenzie

Sucking in a deep breath, I slipped into the suite and retrieved the dress. Seriously, Mackenzie? What the hell was I thinking? I’d already bought the dress for my wedding with Lucas… five thousand dollars down the drain for white silk and a gazillion iridescent beads. I’d left the dress hanging in our bedroom when I left. Have fun with that, Lucas.

I scurried back into the bathroom and struggled to pull the dress on.

I studied myself in the mirror. Holy crap. I was a hot mess. My hair was matted and frizzy, raccoon circles darkened the skin under my eyes. And the dress. Oh God, the dress. I dimly remembered seeing it on a mannequin, squealing with delight, and insisting I be married in it. If nothing else, thirteen-year-old Mackenzie would have thought sparkly mermaid the coolest thing ever to wear to the eighth grade prom.

So work sent me here to get close to Scott Creed, to see what I could learn about him in reference to the upcoming merger. I guess I’d accomplished that mission…

Of course, as soon as he woke up, we’d have the marriage annulled. I was way too young to be a divorcee. The thought bolstered me. Of course he’d want this handled, and soon. It was…I racked my brain, in a city like Las Vegas, days lose all meaning. Friday. I didn’t know exactly how a marriage could be annulled, but it seemed like something a playboy like Scott would know.