LOVE AND HATE (A Billionaire Romance) (3 page)

I heard a sound from the bedroom, someone stirring on the bed. Had I lost my chance to slip out quietly? My firm had his contact information on file. I could look him up and give him a buzz when we both got back to New York.

“Mackenzie?”

I froze. Actually looked around for a place to hide before I remembered I was an adult, and even if I’d been drunk as a skunk when I made my bad choices, I was still responsible for them. I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it again. God, my hands were actually shaking.

“Mackenzie?”

“In here,” I squeaked. I was gasping in tight little breaths, and my head spun. I forced myself to draw in a long, measured lungful of air.

“Are you all right?”

“Little hungover,” I said.

I heard the groan of the bedsprings. Some soft sounds. Please let it be Scott putting on pants. I didn’t think I could handle full frontal Scott—though my blurry memory of him was quite pleasant. It wouldn’t do for me to dry heave at the sight of my new husband’s genitals.

Just making the joke in my head almost sent me dashing, in my mermaid dress, to the toilet bowl.

Scott appeared in the doorway. Let me tell you a bit about Scott Creed based on what I knew from the prep work my company did with me before sending me into this lion’s den. He’s new money: His dad came over from Ireland in his twenties, and married a Southern woman who had land but no money. His father got in on the beginning of the dot-com boom and hit it big when Scott was in his teens. His parents lived in a modest house on Long Island, but Scott and his sister, Serena, fully embraced their new lifestyle. Scott had taken over the company, and Serena was one of those people who’d become famous for being famous. She had a Twitter account and a lot of money, which meant she was a well-recognized personality. Sometimes she screamed at the paparazzi, and one time she made a sex tape. So controversial.

All this thinking about Scott and his money made me think about my own problems. I had nothing now that Lucas was gone. I’d taken my stuff and moved out, the car was in his name, and I had a mountain of student loans. My credit card debt made me want to throw up even though I’d done that more than once this morning and had nothing left inside me. My job was good, sure, but living alone costs a lot. I bet Scott had pocket change that could make me debt free.

He’d pulled on a pair of shorts, which left his exquisitely muscled chest deliciously exposed. On his back a tattooed phoenix rose from flames starting at his waist and extending to the edge of where a dress shirt would cover it. The tattoo surprised me last night. I wondered what else about Scott I didn’t know.

He obviously spent a lot of time at the gym, and his physique showed it. Glorious six pack, bulging biceps, shapely legs. His frame was a little on the slender side, but he stood at least six feet, which made him almost a full head taller than I was.

He lingered for a moment, scrutinizing me. I told you, I looked a mess. He pushed past me, poured me a glass of water, and got some aspirin from a bottle. He held them out to me with big, strong hands. “Here, take these. Drink this.”

Of course I know that’s how you counter a hangover, but his assertions set me off. “I’m good, thanks,” I snapped. Bitchier than I should be, I know, but I hate being told what to do. Lucas used to talk to me in the same way, like he knew better than I did what was good for me or not. I could feel the same old rage bubbling up in me. I took it from Lucas for how long? I wasn’t going to take it from a guy I barely knew. Even if he was my husband.

“You’ll feel better.”

“I’ll feel better when I get back to my room and get out of this dress.”

“You look beautiful.”

I glared at him for patronizing me. I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. What kind of a fool did he think I was?

“I can call my personal assistant and have some clothes brought for you. I mean, if you don’t want to go out like that. I can also do room service, get something in your stomach?”

“I’m fine.” My stomach, the traitor, growled loudly. Scott affected this faux sympathetic look. I didn’t want his pity.

“At least let me get you a car. Where are you staying?”

“Linq,” I lied. I didn’t want him knowing where I was staying. I didn’t want his car, but I couldn’t find my shoes, and it was already going to be embarrassing enough going back to my room at God knew what time wearing this ridiculous dress. What was I going to do with the thing? Jesus, would he try to bill me for it?

I pushed past him to the sink and tried to deal with my raccoon eyes. Unfortunately, my mascara is one of the high end brands, which means it’s waterproof, and sticks like superglue. Works great on eyelashes, works just as well on my face. I scrubbed at myself until my skin was red and raw.

“What time is it?” What would Lucas say if he could see me now? Probably nothing, as I could only imagine the look of satisfaction on his face as Monica rode him like a pony.

“Two.”

“In the afternoon?” Jeez, Mackenzie, could you ask a stupider question? At two in the morning, I’d been standing at the altar.

Scott wasn’t smiling at me anymore. His tone changed. I could tell he was getting pissed. “Yeah, the afternoon. Hold tight and I’ll call you a car.”

“Hold tight” almost set me off again. What did he think I was going to do, pop down to the casino and shoot craps? I clamped my mouth shut, very aware it tasted like a baby dragon took a dump in there. I couldn’t wait to get back to my room, take a forty-minute scalding shower, and sleep until the next morning. I dreaded seeing how many messages Susie had left me on my phone.

What the heck would Lucas say?

I did the best I could with my hair without a brush. I couldn’t look at my reflection any longer, or I’d start to cry. I looked like crap, felt like crap, and foolish to boot. Feeling like an extra on
The Walking Dead
, I shambled out of the bathroom and into the suite.

Scott had pulled the curtain back, and the bright desert sunlight flooding the room made me cover my face with my hands. More like a vampire than a zombie, I guess. Scott looked like he wanted to say something, but apparently he’s not a complete idiot because he didn’t speak until his phone buzzed.

“Car’s here. Black stretch limo out back.”

“A limo?”

“You liked it last night.”

Yeah, there was a lot going on last night that I liked that I wasn’t so wild about now. I didn’t rise to his bait. I grabbed my purse, too afraid to deal with my phone, and headed for the door.

“Have dinner with me?”

“The thought of food makes me want to vomit.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

I sighed an over-dramatic sigh, complete with eye roll and shoulder slumping. Didn’t he care his driver was out there waiting? Of course he didn’t. Someone like Scott probably didn’t realize the driver wasn’t just an accessory that came with the car. I gave him my number.

“I’ll text you mine.”

I should have told him I had his number. Had his address. Had a floor plan of his New York penthouse, and had visibility into his taxes going back to when he turned fifteen and had to start paying taxes on the interest in his bank account.

I didn’t. I was in a foul mood, worried about puking again, and my head felt like someone was splitting it open with an axe. My manners didn’t escape me, though, and as I was leaving, incongruously, the words, “I had a great time last night” leaked out of my mouth.

I slammed the door behind me and was alone in the hallway. The swirls of the carpet were enough to induce vertigo, even if you weren’t hungover. I marched to the bank of elevators and mashed as many of the down buttons as I could reach. Pushing more than one makes the elevator come faster, right?

I got in with a mother and her daughter, who looked about ten. They carried towels and beach bags, headed to the pool. Who brings a ten-year old to Vegas? I stared at the blue green shimmers of my dress. They got off one floor above the lobby, and I couldn’t hear all of what the kid said as they left, but I distinctly heard the word “mermaid.”

I groaned. People milled in the lobby, and I could hear the buzz of them all around. I was going to lose it. On the other hand, looking around, I sort of realized I wasn’t the only young woman in my predicament. Probably the only one who’d accidentally married a billionaire the night before, but there was a fair amount of evening wear and frazzled hair. So I wasn’t a total freak, which was nice. I didn’t even stop to check out the glass Chihuly ceiling—something I’d meant to visit. Must exit ASAP.

I hated the weight of Scott’s ring on my finger—why was I even still wearing it? Truth be told, I’d been lost with nothing there. I’d worn Lucas’ ring for a year and a half, and when I’d stripped it off, I felt like I’d removed a part of myself. I yanked Scott’s ring off and shoved it in my purse. The white stripe on my skin stood out like a neon sign. Failure at relationships.

The gleaming black limo waited for me in the carport. Wouldn’t it be awful to get in the wrong limo? The car was totally for me, because I saw the driver take in my stupid mermaid dress and open the door for me as he tossed me a weak smile. When the sun hit the sequins on my dress, man, it was like a disco ball exploded in green and blue.

He closed the door behind me, and I muttered a ‘thank you.’ As he walked around to the driver’s side, I slammed the partition between us. Was I supposed to tip him? I didn’t know how any of this worked. Everything loomed over me like black clouds. Lucas, Scott. My job. This terrible dress.

Safely shut away in the back of the limo, I finally let myself break down and cry.

It wasn’t far to Linq, though the limos and taxis don’t go to the front of the hotels. All the taxi stands and parking is hidden around the back. Before I knew it, I was standing in the Linq hotel lobby in my ridiculous dress, wiping away the remnants of my tears. At least this was Las Vegas. I was far from the most absurdly dressed hotel guest, not even the teariest guest. I trudged to the crummy Flamingo and took the elevator up to the sixth floor. When I got out I did take a moment to look down at the flamingo habitat—the real flamingos were the best part of this place, to be sure.

I didn’t dare look at my phone. I’d just deal with Susie when I saw her. I couldn’t bear the thought of her tearing into me, reminding me I was stupid… Oh wait, Susie wouldn’t do that, I would do it myself.

I opened the door to the room we shared, impressed I hadn’t lost my key.

She lay on the bed with her nose in her laptop. She wore her hair in a Betty Page hair-do, rocking black cat eyeliner, and bright red lips. Her arms were covered in tattoos. When I came in, she grinned up at me.

“You’re a genius, Mrs. Creed.”

“Huh?” I wasn’t capable of words at the moment.

“Mr. Fallon loves it.”

“What?”

“Tricking him into marrying you so you can keep a closer eye on him as the merger gets close. I never would have thought of it in a million years. And OMG that dress. Kenz, you’re more devious than any of us gave you credit for. So when are you going to see him again?”

Scott

The desert sun beat down beside the Cypress pool, and Ryan and I lay out in the sun in adjacent chairs. I was parched and hungover from the night before. More than anything I felt like I had some emotional whiplash from Mackenzie’s hasty exit this morning. I took a pull off my bottle of Evian and tried to focus on the lurid horror novel I’d picked up for relaxation.

Potted palms dappled us in shade, and the bright blue pool water sparkled in the sunlight. Cypress is the child-free pool with a focus on relaxation. A few people murmured quietly to each other. Most folks read or scanned tablets. A woman who looked like a greased up Olympic athlete swam laps in the shallow pool around the fountain. I watched the way her toned legs moved. Her toenails were sparking red, matching her one-piece bathing suit. Delicious.

Ryan had gone up one side of me and down the other. “Giuliana is going to eat you alive.”

“It’s a convenience thing for her. She’s not actually into me.” His look suggested that may not be the case. “Isn’t she with Paulo Estevez?”

“The artist? I don’t think that was serious.”

“She doesn’t do serious things.”

“She’s going to freak out when you tell her.”

“She won’t. She’s going to roll her eyes, call me an asshole, and move on to the next thing.”

“I hope you’re right.”

My eyes tracked a delicious twenty-something in a barely-there bikini, diamonds glittering at her throat. I imagined asking her back to my suite and seeing what kinds of terrible things I could make her do.

“Dude, you’re married,” Ryan snapped. I made an involuntary face at the word. “You gotta track her down and get this shit annulled, bro. You don’t even know her. Giuliana is a way safer bet.”

I didn’t argue, but I did think Mackenzie and I had gotten pretty well acquainted the night before. Not just in the biblical sense. I had depressingly little memory of that part of the night, damn tequila. We’d talked a lot, and we’d laughed. Not at all what I remembered of the terrified wildcat, fighting to get away from me this afternoon. The woman from last night had been warm and smart. Funny and interesting.