Reckless (Fractured Farrells: A Damaged Billionaire Series Book 2) (9 page)

If there was one ounce of him that thought Malia would let him pass the time with her in bed, he would’ve told Lindsey that if she called him again, she’d be fired. But from the tension creeping into Malia as the seconds passed, he knew she’d changed her mind.

“I’ll be right there,” he bit out before he stretched to hang up the phone. “We’re not done here,” he warned Malia as he pushed off her and stayed still on the bed for a moment. He couldn’t go anywhere until his cock calmed down. Judging from how turned on he was, he might not be going anywhere for days.

“I think this was—”

“Christ, Malia, if you say this was a mistake, I’m going to punch a hole through the damn wall. Considering I have to pay for all damages, I want to avoid that.”

She stayed quiet, but still on the bed. For a few moments, they stayed like that before Robert finally pushed himself up and out of the room. He was coming back though, and the next time he did, he damn well wasn’t stopping for anything.

––––––––

M
alia had done a few stupid things in her life. More than a few, actually. But this might take the cake.

What the hell had she been thinking? Had the nice, luxurious room completely taken over her inhibitions? No, that wasn’t it. It was Robert being so...nice. Even if his niceness had an ulterior motive, she was just so overwhelmed with how generous he was being.

Was that a sign of how starved she was for basic human decency? Or was Robert’s reckless pursuit of her finally chipping away at her persistent hatred of his family?

Whatever it was that led her to break every rule she had about Robert and, hell, men in general, she had full on kissed Robert Farrell. And it wasn’t like their time on the beach when she hadn’t known who he was. And it wasn’t like the time behind the boat when she could blame it on him because he’d started it.

No. She’d been overcome with stress, and okay, maybe she was horny too. It was hard not to feel that way when she spent so long around someone as ruggedly handsome as Robert, who was so completely into her. Why the hell would Robert Farrell be rugged? He was supposed to be some pansy daddy’s boy who’d never had to work hard for anything in his life.

Instead, he burst into her life with a ripped six-pack, deep voice, a jawline models would kill for, and a tongue that would haunt her fantasies.

“Ugh!” She screamed as she took a pillow and pulled it over her head. Not that there was anyone in the room to hide from. No matter where she ducked her head, she would never stop judging herself for what she’d just done with Robert. For what she totally would’ve finished if he hadn’t gotten that phone call.

She was seconds away from pulling down her shorts and ripping off Robert’s pants so she could finally get the relief that he’d been so close to giving her. Considering how skilled he’d been at merely kissing her neck, she was willing to bet he’d relieve her multiple times.

She moaned again and turned onto her stomach. This was bad. Like, so mortifying she never wanted to leave this room bad. Except this room was owned by the guy she wanted to hide from and her only other option had just burnt to the ground. A tent on the beach started to look better and better.

After a good half an hour of wallowing in her own self-pity, she finally drifted off into something that almost resembled sleep. The stress of the day must’ve caught up, because one second it was early afternoon and then it was four p.m.

It was only as her eyes were adjusting to the room and she tried to read the alarm clock that she realized what woke her up. Someone knocked on the door.

“Damn it,” she muttered as she rolled off the bed and ran for the door, pulling it open without even looking through the peephole. It was only as she stared at the strange woman on the other side that she admitted that probably wasn’t the best idea.

Just one more sign of how off-kilter she was. She blinked a few times and tried to look cheerful, even though she had a feeling she failed miserably. “Hello,” she managed to get out.

The woman, for her part, didn’t seem that flustered at the totally unkempt person opening Robert Farrell’s door. “Hey there. Mr. Farrell sent me up to make sure you’re doing okay. He’s going to be in meetings for at least a few more hours, so I can get you some dinner and your immediate care package is ready for you at the front desk if you want me to bring it up.”

Malia blinked a few times, her mind still a little foggy. “Umm...who are you?”

The woman laughed. “I’m sorry! I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Lindsey Shaw. I work in finance with Mr. Farrell.”

Malia nodded, not too surprised. Lindsey looked exactly like what she’d imagine a Farrell Enterprises accountant would look like. She was tall and thin, with long black hair that looked amazingly shiny pulled back in something she almost hesitated to call a ponytail because it looked so pretty. People like Lindsey were the reason Malia was a moron. Those were the types of women Robert should be passing his time with. Malia was a mutt compared to the purebred in front of her.

“I can see that I interrupted a nap. I’m going to have one of the bellmen bring up the package for you and we can reconvene in...half an hour for dinner?”

She’d rather order in something, but she couldn’t manage to bring out her normal, more outspoken self. All she could manage was a little nod.

“Great! Meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes!”

Malia nodded again as she shut the door.
Good grief.
She padded into the bathroom and managed not to scream in horror when she looked in the mirror. Her hair was a hot mess; the ponytail it had been in was now pushed to the side, with bits of hair frizzing out all over the place. The main saving grace was that she hadn’t worn makeup to the painting job at Dean’s, so her face still held up okay.

Robert’s jacket was still on the counter.
Damn.
In their sexual haze, they’d forgotten to call dry cleaning. She ran her hand over the stain, which had actually mostly come off. Maybe it was more a smear of dry paint chips. Lord knew she hadn’t worked any miracles on it.

She continued to run her hand along the soft fabric, all the while imagining what Robert’s hard chest would feel like. Not that she had to imagine much considering that she’d felt it firsthand just a few hours ago.

There was another reason she might’ve lost all control around Robert. Maybe she actually liked him.

She shuddered at the thought even as she couldn’t think of any logical denial. His seduction routine of acting like a decent guy was actually working on her.
No.
She’d have to remember all the grief his family had caused her. How he’d showed up at her home that morning and practically ordered her to leave and come stay with him. Which he’d gotten.

Shouldn’t be shocking. He was a Farrell, and Farrells got whatever they wanted.

There was a knock on the door, and the bellman dropped off about three bags filled with more than Malia would’ve ever thought to ask for.

She fished out a tip for the bellman. She didn’t have a lot, but at least none of her money was burned in the house. All she had was in her admittedly mostly empty checking account and the cash Dean had given her that morning.

But she’d worked enough of these small service jobs to know the importance of giving a tip. Once she brought the bags into the room, she emptied them on the oversized conference table.

She had to hand it to whoever did the shopping. They thought of things she would’ve never asked for. There was a phone charger—which was the right one for her phone—toothbrush, paste, floss, face cream, hair care products, a keycard for the room, and even a varied selection of snacks.

Malia didn’t realize how hungry she was until the chocolate bar tumbled out of one of the bags. And as soon as she scarfed down the candy, she remembered that she hadn’t had anything to drink since Tina had brought her those ice-cold diet cokes.

By the time she’d re-hydrated, organized the bags, and tamed her crazy hair, the half an hour had already passed.

She tucked the room key into her pocket and headed to the elevator. Lindsey sat on one of the plush chairs in the lobby to the resort. Pretty much anyone could pick out Lindsey as a mainlander. Her long legs were shown off in a gray pencil skirt and back pumps with a heel that wasn’t too high, but would probably cause Malia to trip and break her neck.

People in Hawaii weren’t big on business professional. Sure, people still dressed up sometimes for work. But Malia tended to see just as many professionals who wore Aloha shirts.

Lindsey saw Malia and stood, waving her over. “Hello! How are you feeling? I can’t imagine how hard today was for you.”

“I’m fine. I was just a little out of it when you stopped by earlier. You know, I really don’t want to put anyone out. I don’t need to go out for any nice dinners or anything.”

Lindsey waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ve got the corporate card, so we can go wherever we want. Trust me, I volunteered for this. Besides, you need more than one pair of clothes, right? That’s one thing we didn’t want to buy for you without your input.”

Malia chuckled. “That’s probably good.” She could only imagine the clothes Robert would’ve picked out for her. Probably everything super tight and short with as much skin showing as possible.

“The car is waiting. There’s a mall down the street, according to the Internet search I did while I was down here. Is that okay? Do you have any favorite stores?”

“Thrift stores.”

Lindsey laughed and Malia wasn’t sure whether the woman thought she was joking or not. But considering how often Malia did odd jobs and biked around the city, buying cheap, used clothes just made sense.

But it became quickly apparent that Lindsey viewed clothing shopping in an entirely different light. As soon as they walked into the department store, she pulled things off the rack for Malia to try on. Ten minutes after they entered, she asked an attendant to set up a fitting room.

“Are you in a hurry?” Malia tried to subtly glance at the price tag on the sundress Lindsey had grabbed for some reason.

Lindsey’s brows drew together. “Hurry? This isn’t how you shop?”

Malia let out a little laugh. “We’ve barely looked at anything.”

“Well, we can’t know what you like until it’s on your body. That’s rule number one. Never trust a hanger. Only your waist and your hips will give you the true picture. Besides, I got the idea you didn’t want to be out here all night, so I figure we just need to take one trip to the fitting room, maybe one more for extra sizes, and then we’ll be on our way to get some of the freshest ahi tuna I’ve ever eaten.”

Malia smiled, not faking it for the first time since she woke up. She was starting to warm to Lindsey. Somehow she’d expected someone working in finance with Robert to be a drone or uptight corporate type.

Lindsey followed her into the fitting room and hung up the assortment of shorts, shirts, and dresses. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need my opinion on anything, I’ll be right here, but I’m getting the idea you’re not going to be walking out and modeling anything.”

“Modeling isn’t really my forte.”

“Either way, I’ll be right here.”

“Thanks for your help,” said Malia, one hundred percent truthfully. Between the crazy tornado that was Robert and her limited support network on the island, it was nice to have someone in her corner.

A horrifying thought hit Malia as soon as she pulled on her first pair of shorts.
What if Lindsey wasn’t really on her side?
There
was
some crazy person who’d been spying on her and Robert, and now her house burned down.

Malia smacked her forehead.
Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner?
She was pretty sure that whoever took the pictures was more focused on Robert than her, what with their threat to kill her and everything.

And now she was out shopping with some stranger who knows Robert from the mainland?
Good grief, Lindsey could be a serial killer. A serial killer with great shoes, but still.
She knelt to the shorts she’d been wearing all day and pulled out her phone. Thanks to Robert’s obsessive calling (okay, now she knew he was calling to warn her, but at the time his repeated calls had put one more notch in her stalker argument), she had his phone number.

Of course, now that she was calling him, he didn’t answer his damn phone. Before she could get too freaked out, the cell vibrated in her hand. “Hello?” she said softly once she brought it to her ear. Lindsey could be right outside the room for all she knew.

“Hey. I was in a meeting so I couldn’t take your call right away. Is everything going okay with Lindsey?”

Thank God he at least knew she was with Lindsey. “Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine. Well, no. Do you think she’s the one who took those pictures?”

“What, her? No.”

“I know she’s pretty and all, but pretty woman can be crazy too.”

“This isn’t about me being attracted to her. Lindsey is married. Happily married. Her husband is actually here with her. They turned it into a mini vacation. He’s on a surfing thing all day so she volunteered to take you out.” He paused for a second. “Are you jealous?”