RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE) (38 page)

BOOK: RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE)
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“Yeah. Not all of us can have an in with the
CEO of one of the world’s most profitable companies.” But then she swallowed
her anger, even though it lit up her face in a very sexy way. “Well, anyway,
I’d been putting up with a lot of shit over there. More so recently, though the
past few years hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park, either.” She looked at
me. “Do you know that the first day I was there, the receptionist who was
supposed to train me left for lunch and never came back? I had four hours’
worth of training before they threw me to the wolves.” She shook her head in
amazement. “It’s a wonder I survived my first six months, let alone four
years…”

 

“Sounds like they don’t have a clue what
they’re doing,” I said, and that much was a genuine commentary on the matter. I
had learned enough from my father, not to mention Harvard, to know an
incompetently-run business when I saw one. Or, in this case, heard of one. “You
were probably lucky to get out.”

 

Maddy
snorted. “Yeah, in one way, but
what about the other? I’m broke, Preston. Or I will be once I handle my bills
and rent this month. My lease isn’t up for another eight months, and if I break
it early, I’ll owe my landlord
thousands.

She continued to fret until the waiter came over to take her order. As she
struggled with remembering the name, I interrupted.

 

“She’ll have the beef bourguignon with your
Chateau
Musar
2011
Jeune
Rouge. Bring the bottle.”

 

Maddy
finally seemed to relax some at
the promise of wine. Or at least, she did until the waiter turned to me and
asked, “And for the lady’s date?”

 

I laughed. It wasn’t meant to offend
Maddy
, but I could see her cheeks flush. I waved my hand.
“No, no. We’re not… she’s my sister. Well, she will be, anyway.”

 

“I see,” the waiter said. “My apologies. What
can I get for you, Mr. Harvey?”

 

“The twelve-ounce
Wagyu
A5 Kobe, served New York strip-style,” I said. It was one of my favorites. Most
people were told to order a day in advance, but I wasn’t most people. “With the
regular sides.”

 

“Very good, Mr. Harvey,” he said. It seemed
strange that he knew my name but I couldn’t remember his face, let alone
anything else about him. The hostess probably tipped him off. That’s just good
service. The waiter took our menus and hurried off in the direction of the
kitchen while I turned my gaze back on Madison.

 

“Where were we?”

 

She blinked. “You were ordering five hundred
dollars in beef, and I was telling you about how broke I am.”

 

I winced. “Right. Uh. Go on.”

 

She sighed, slumping back in her chair and
tucking a strand of her chocolate brown hair behind her ear. I liked the way
her nose twitched when she brushed the lock away from her face. It made the
light dusting of freckles over the bridge of it dance.

 

“It wasn’t just stuff like that, though.
There were other things that happened there. A lot of harassment, sexual and
otherwise.” She didn’t look at me when she said the words, like she was ashamed
of something that had been done to her by people outside of her control. “What
kind of place lets their managers call their administrative assistant a cunt
right to her face, just because she disagrees with him about a decision?”

 

I almost choked on my water. I glanced around
to see if anyone else had heard my stepsister utter the dreaded c-word.
“Christ. Didn’t you tell HR?”

 

“Of course I did,” she answered. “But what do
you expect them to do about it? It’s my word against a supervisor’s, and as I
understand it, that supervisor and the HR director are very good friends.”

 

“So… I don’t know, go over her head. Write
the CEO, if you have to.”

 

She laughed. “Right. The CEO who doesn’t know
my name, who makes more money in a day than I do in a year. He’s going to come
fight my battles? I’d ask if you’d been drinking, but they haven’t even brought
the wine yet.”

 

“There has to be something,” I insisted. I
could feel my blood rushing now, boiling, burning in my chest. I didn’t get
worked up about a lot of things, but for some reason the idea of someone hurting
Maddy
had me seeing red. “You don’t deserve to be
treated like that, Madison. Not by anyone. Ever.”

 

She looked at me for a long time, silent and
wide-eyed. There was something scrutinizing about her gaze, like she was
searching my eyes for some kind of answer. By the time her lips parted, the
waiter had returned and set the bottle of wine on the table between us.

 

“Shall I pour?” he asked me.

 

I tore my gaze away from
Maddy
.
“No. I think we’ve got it.”

 

Although he let us be, the moment—whatever it
was—was now gone.
Maddy
was now more interested in
the wine than whatever she’d been on the cusp of saying, and I didn’t know how
to ask her what exactly had been on her mind. I didn’t want to push things with
her. After all, this was the first real conversation we’d ever had, and I
worried that prying too hard would be a recipe for disaster.

 

But the more I thought about her
predicament—her job, her finances, the cold-hearted bitch her mother was—the
more I realized that I did, in fact, have an answer. It was the answer to the
question she hadn’t asked, the question that maybe she was too proud to. But I
had it all the same, and now that I understood what her silence had meant, I
knew what I had to do.

 

I was going to change Madison Hearst’s life
forever. She just didn’t know it yet.

 

And maybe, just maybe, I could kill two birds
with one stone.

 

To
my utter shock, lunch with my
brother-to-be wasn’t the disaster I’d imagined.

 

Preston was a spoiled brat. I’d gleaned that
much on the first day I’d met him. He’d rolled up late to a family dinner in a
shiny new Tesla with a devil-may-care grin and lipstick stains on his collar. I
immediately knew everything I needed to know about him from that point on—or so
I’d thought.

 

The man sitting in front of me in the restaurant
was a completely different guy. He was genuinely concerned about me, my job,
and my future. He made me laugh and didn’t make me feel ashamed for crying. I
was starting to think maybe I hadn’t given him a fair chance. Sure, he’d always
be the rich kid and I’d always be the poor one, but there was no reason we
couldn’t be civil.

 

By the time we left the restaurant, I was
feeling better. I still didn’t have a game plan, but at least it felt like
someone was on my side in spirit. That meant a lot, not feeling alone.

 

“Do you have a car?” he asked me.

 

Slowly, I shook my head. The daylight was a
little disorienting after spending over an hour in the dimly-lit café. “No. I
take the bus wherever I need to go.”

 

Preston wrinkled his nose at me. “Seriously?
What about when you need groceries?”

 

I shrugged. “Not all of us can afford
eighty-five thousand dollar cars, Preston.” And then, in an effort to be less
defensive, I added: “It’s only me, so I try to only get a little at a time.
Lightweight stuff. Then I carry it back on the bus with me. It’s better if you
use those reusable bags. They don’t break like the plastic ones do.”

 

He stared at me like I was from some other
world. Maybe to him, I was. All he’d ever known were luxury vehicles, grand
manses and summer homes, penthouse suites and personal chefs. He’d never wanted
for anything a day in his life, and I sincerely doubted that Preston Harvey
ever took the bus—even to school.

 

But he didn’t say anything. He kept his face
a slate as he offered, “Well, you can’t walk home in those.” He nodded to my
shoes. “I’ll drive you.”

 

I raised my brows. “Really? You want to spend
more time with your stepsister?”

 

He smiled and shrugged, his buff shoulders
rippling underneath his button-down. He had the blazer draped over his arm, and
I didn’t blame him. It was warm out.

 

“You’re not all that bad,” he informed me.
When I pursed my lips, he chuckled again. “Hopefully you can say the same for
me.”

 

“Maybe,” I relented. “I’ll say this for you:
you’re definitely not who I’d expected you’d be.”

 

Now it was Preston’s turn to arch an eyebrow.
“And who were you expecting?”

 

“The guy who showed up late to dinner,” I
said. “The one who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed with a woman. You
know. A playboy. An elitist fuck.”

 

Preston grinned from ear to ear, one of those
shit-eating grins that would have looked infuriating on anyone else. And it
did
look infuriating on him, too. Just
not in the way I had anticipated. Beneath my annoyance was amusement, though I
was loath to let it show. There was something about him, something I couldn’t
quite place, but the more I was in his company, the less irritating he seemed.

 

I studied his face for a moment. The sun made
his short, tawny hair glitter like gold, and his impossibly blue eyes sparkled
like the clearest diamonds I’d ever seen. No, that wasn’t right. They were more
like the bottom of a glacier: a deep, frigid hue locked away beneath a layer of
ice that somehow seemed to be melting the more I stared at him.

 

I turned away, my heart beating in my ears
and my cheeks heating up. Preston was very handsome. Maybe if we’d met under
different circumstances… Maybe if our lives weren’t quite so different…

 

“All right,” I said, trying to clear the
awkward silence between us. “I’ll go with you. I’m really not all that far from
here, so you shouldn’t waste too much time.”

 

Preston shot me a look meant to remind me
that time wasn’t something he particularly worried about. Then he ushered me
down the sidewalk to his car, that beautiful Tesla I’d seen parked in the
driveway of his father’s estate the first day I’d met him.

 

I supposed billionaires and their sons could
do as they pleased, but I had to admit that I’d expected Preston to have some
sort of driver. Then again, from his suit, it looked like he might have just
come from a business meeting. I thought about asking him what it was about, but
I didn’t know a thing about his father’s company and in all likelihood, knowing
the details would only bore me.

 

I slid into the seat next to him, letting the
cream-colored leather cradle my body. It was supple and buttery, smooth and
warm, just the right temperature from having sat out in the sun half the
afternoon. I had to admit that I loved the car’s design. The angles and planes
were just so masculine, so clean, and the digital dashboard display was just
plain nifty.

 

I watched him plug in my address to the
built-in GPS system between the air vents. When he pulled out of the spot he’d
parallel parked it, it was like we’d hardly moved until he pressed the
accelerator and forced me hard into the back of my seat. The display of manly
car-grunt complete, we settled into the little trip.

 

“I have to admit, this is a really nice
ride,” I told him, admiring the contrast between the beige bottom half of the
dashboard and the charcoal-colored top. “Smooth, too. Feels like we’re
floating.”

 

“And it’s eco-friendly,” Preston said,
putting on a pair of sunglasses as he merged into heavier traffic. “That’s sort
of a pet interest of mine. My father owns enough factories to personally be
responsible for the depletion of the ozone layer, but just because he doesn’t
see how harmful it is doesn’t mean I don’t. One day, when he’s gone, I’ll
change things.”

 

I blinked, impressed. “You’re going to save
the planet?
 
Duly noted. Any other
hobbies I should know about?”

 

Preston smiled. “Well, I like sailing. I like
the vastness of the ocean, how you can just ride out into the center of it and
there’s no one for miles around. It’s kind of like meditating, only I don’t
have to clear my mind—the sea does it for me.” Though I couldn’t see his eyes,
I thought Preston looked a little wistful. “I haven’t been out there in a
while, though. Not since our parents got engaged.”

 

“What does that have to do with
anything?” I asked him.

 

He sighed, turning down one of the side
streets the GPS had ordered him onto. “Ever since my father decided to remarry,
he’s been gung-ho about inducting me into the family business—more so than
usual. My best guess is that he’s considering an early retirement, but that he
wants to keep the money flowing in without having to worry about what a board
of directors might do with it in his absence. That falls on my shoulders. Hell,
the honeymoon they’re planning means he’ll be gone over a month, and I guess
that’s when he intends to hand over all of the control and responsibilities to
me.”

 

“Jeez,” I muttered, looking out the window at
the city passing us by. “What the hell are they going to do for over a month,
anyway?” I winced once I heard the words come out of my mouth. “Ugh, no. Don’t
tell me. I
really
don’t want to
know.”

 

Preston laughed. I was beginning to like the
sound of it. “Neither do I. So let’s talk about something else…” He eyed me
over his shades at an intersection. “Since we’re on the subject of love lives,
how’s yours?”

 

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but
smile as well. “Nonexistent. You don’t have to worry about me flying off for
over a month any time soon.”

 

“Not even a boyfriend?”

 

“No. Not for a while.”

 

“Girlfriend?”

 

I looked back over at him and sighed, shaking
my head. “What about you?”

 

He hesitated long enough for me to get the
idea that if there was someone, it wasn’t an official someone—or at least,
nobody that he wanted to admit to. I briefly wondered if Preston was the sort
of man who used his wealth to rent out escorts, but then I considered how
attractive he was. With those muscles and that face, there was no way he had
any trouble picking up women for free, or as “free” as a billionaire could get
away with, I supposed.

 

“Not really,” he settled on at last. “No one
I would bring home, anyway. There’s this girl, but…” He trailed off as he moved
through the light. “We’re not in love, or anything. She doesn’t respect my
boundaries. I called it off a few weeks ago, but she still got her claws in me.
I have a feeling it’s going to get messy.”

 

I was surprised he was being so honest with
me. Surprised, and impressed. Preston was inspiring a lot of that in me lately.
Maybe I’d finally found a family member who gave a shit about someone other
than themselves.

 

“If you’re not happy, it’s better to cut
things off now. Cold turkey,” I assured him, dispensing my first piece of
possibly-unsolicited sisterly advice. “The longer you drag things out, the
worse it will be in the end. If she’s as bad at reading your intentions as you
say, then giving her any hope might seem like some kind of promise. And next
thing you know, you’re screwed.”

 

Preston nodded slowly. I could tell by the
way the muscle twitched in his jaw that he was mulling over everything I’d just
said. “You
know,
I was thinking the exact same thing.
Still, it’s hard to let someone down like that, especially when you think they
might go off the deep end the moment you do.”

 

“It’s better either way,” I said. “Trust me.
I’ve lived through it. I know.”

 

It was true. My last relationship had ended
badly. We’d been together two years, and they were the most hellish of my life.
Sometimes I couldn’t figure out which was more abusive: Tyler—my ex—or my job.

 

Former job,
I reminded myself as my apartment
building came into view. The trip hadn’t lasted very long. It really put into
perspective what a roundabout way the bus took.
All this family bonding has been great and everything, but don’t
forget: you’re still screwed.

 

As soon as Preston put the Tesla into park, I
could feel a panic attack swelling in my chest. I sat still for a moment,
trying not to think about how bad things were, how this might be the last month
I’d spend living in my upstairs apartment. I felt sick to my stomach suddenly,
like I was going to throw up, but then Preston put his hand over mine and I
gasped out loud.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

 

I turned. His face was so close to mine that
I could smell his cologne. There was something luxurious and silken about it,
maybe Givenchy or Clive Christian. The latter wouldn’t surprise me. It was the
most expensive cologne in the world, but someone like Preston Harvey could
certainly afford it.

 

Right now, I wasn’t thinking about his money.
I was thinking about the flash of his eyes, the sharp cut of his jaw, the soft
strength of his hand holding mine. On some strange instinct, I lifted my thumb
out from beneath his palm and caressed the backs of his fingers, brushing the
pad down from his knuckles to the tips of his nails.

 

He didn’t move his hand away, nor did he tear
his eyes from mine. There was comfort in his embrace, but the longer our hands
remained entwined, the more I felt that solace shift to something more.

 

Something darker. Something more heated.
Something that I wasn’t sure if it terrified me, or if it gave me the greatest
thrill I’d ever known.

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