The Billionaire’s Secret Love (A 'Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires' Romance)

G
o
out to dinner with me
.

No, thank you
.

The conversation echoed in my head.
No, thank you?
Had she really turned me down? I couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned me down. For anything. My first reaction was to ignore her and pretend I didn’t care.

I couldn't do it.

I had no idea what it was about this girl that had so captured my attention. I’d only met her an hour ago, but I wanted her. I’d gone over to her apartment, geared up to confront her roommate over dumping my cousin, when Emily had opened the door and I’d tumbled head over heels after one look. It was the oldest cliché and one I’d never believed. Until now.

Taken part by part, she wasn't anything special. She shouldn't have been. Medium height, a little on the tall side but not quite tall. Long, straight, dark brown hair. Creamy skin. Gray eyes. And very, very curvy. Her faded jeans fit her sweet, full ass to perfection, and her sweater hung loose off one shoulder, clinging to her round tits. Her clothes hadn’t been chosen to show off her body, but they were too well cut to hide it.

Still, it was her eyes that got me. A clear, pure gray, like a lake in winter. She'd swung the door open, and I’d fallen into those fathomless gray eyes. If I was being honest, I still hadn't pulled myself out.

No, thank you.

I couldn’t stop hearing her refusal, repeating on a loop in my brain. Why had she said no?

I’d figure it out. First, I had to help my cousin, Holden, and Emily’s roommate, Josephine. Who would have guessed I’d be playing matchmaker? Or really, fairy godmother. Godfather. Whatever. I was the last guy to believe in relationships, but there was something about the way Holden talked about Josephine. She wasn’t just a hook-up to him, and when it had looked like she was blowing him off, I’d stepped in to save the day. Now, all I had to do was get Jo a bag of ice for her hand and get out of the lovebirds’ way. That was fine by me. I had my own potential hook-up to worry about.

I left Emily standing outside the office door in Mana, the night club Holden and I owned, and ducked behind the bar for the ice. Jo had punched the guy who tried to break them up, and her knuckles were bleeding. As soon as I took care of her, I could focus on dealing with Emily, who was standing outside the office door, her back pressed to the wall, arms wrapped protectively around her middle.

I was pretty sure she'd never been in Mana before. She didn't look like the type. Maybe that was why I found her so appealing. I was used to women in short skirts with perfectly styled hair and too much makeup. Emily didn't look like she’d done more than pull a brush through her thick, shiny hair all day. She definitely wasn’t wearing makeup. On her, it didn’t matter. Unadorned, Emily was more beautiful than any woman I’d seen in recent memory.

Hoping I was interrupting something, I unlocked the door to the office to find Holden standing in front of Josephine, cradling her injured hand in his. Looked like they'd already figured things out. Just in case, I said to Jo,

“You good?"

She didn't get a chance to answer. Holden did it for her. “She's good. You can go."

“
Are
you good?" Emily asked from behind me. Jo promised that she was, and Emily stepped back to leave the lovers in peace.

I heard the lock click on the office door and grinned. Nothing like the feeling of a job well done. If I hadn’t gone to confront Josephine, they never would have realized the loser on her team was keeping them apart. I didn’t normally interfere in Holden’s love life, but I’d never seen him so messed up over a woman. If for no other reason, I’d wanted to get a closer look at the woman who’d broken Holden’s heart.

She wasn’t my type, but I could see why Holden was crazy about her. Josephine was pretty, with a lush body and a sharp brain. A lot like Emily, except Emily was more. She was luminous, beautiful in a quiet way that seemed to have hooked my heart and mind along with my dick. And finally, we were alone.

Turning to her, I said, “Do you want me to show you around?"

She shook her head, eyes searching for the door. Damn. I’d been hoping the club would be a way in, but it looked like Emily was more interested in leaving. Mana was the hottest club in town, almost impossible to get into, and I was offering her free run of the place. I hadn’t expected her to say no.

I was proud of Mana. It had started as a hobby. A friend of mine had gotten in over his head and needed to sell out. Holden and I had the money to buy the club, and we thought it would be a good time. We’d tossed around the idea of opening a club for years, mostly for fun, never thinking we’d actually do it. We had our hands full with WGC, our gaming company, and neither of us needed another project. But we’d happened to have a chunk of liquid cash from an investment that had just paid off at the same time a good friend, who was also a club manager, had been looking for work. We hadn’t been able to turn down the opportunity. Between the three of us, Mana had become one of the places to be seen in Atlanta, and we were all making a ridiculous amount of money from it.

Emily was edging her way back down the hall toward the door to the alley. I shook my head. The girl was a mystery. Most people would kill to get into Mana, and she was trying to escape. I should have been annoyed. I was not known for my interest in difficult women. Easy was my motto.

I know what you're thinking, but cut me some slack. I'm not entirely an asshole. You have to understand, I'm a Winters. In Atlanta, that means power, wealth, and influence. It doesn't hurt that we’re all reasonably intelligent and good looking. The kind of women that pursue wealthy men
because
they’re wealthy generally don't care that much if they're not attractive, but it’s a bonus. Who wouldn’t rather catch a rich, hot, young guy than to have to marry some old geezer to get the good life? I was used to living with a target on my back.

Both Holden and I had spent our lives fending off the women we didn't want and helping ourselves to those we did. I never led them on, never implied that I was interested in anything more than a good time. And, yeah, I wasn't used to women turning me down when I asked them out. It probably makes me a sick bastard that Emily’s refusal only made me want her more.

I had the feeling if I didn't take charge, Emily was going to sneak through the door, into the alley, and out of my life. Fortunately for me, it looked like her best friend and roommate was now with my cousin, so even if she ran, I knew how to find her. But I wasn't letting her get away tonight without trying again. Reminding myself that I was charming and good with women, I followed her down the hall and caught her at the door, just as she was easing it open, checking furtively over her shoulder to see if I was following.

Gotcha.

"I can get home from here," she said.

"I know. Do you want me to drive, or would you rather walk?" I asked, deliberately misunderstanding her. Her apartment wasn't far, maybe a fifteen-minute walk, but if she thought I was letting her go on her own, she was crazy. The neighborhood was fairly safe, and it wasn't late, but I’d see her home. I wasn't always a gentleman, but I like to believe that if my mother had lived past my fifth birthday, she would have raised me to have good manners.

“I’ll walk," Emily said, turning to the end of the alley. It was clear she intended to do so without me. Tough luck.

"It's a nice night for a walk," I said agreeably, falling into step beside her.

"Are you sure you don't want to go out to dinner with me?" I asked, keeping my tone light and unthreatening. I didn't want to browbeat her into a date, but I had to figure this girl out, and the only way to do that was to keep her talking. Since she didn't seem inclined to get the conversation rolling, it was up to me.

"I'm sure," she said in the same prim tone she'd used when she turned me down the first time.

I looked at her, asking myself why I was so determined to win her over. At the sight of her long, dark hair shining in the streetlights, and her determined stride that did nothing to hide the sexy sway of her ass, I remembered. I wanted her. I wanted to peel off that T-shirt and take her prim tone with it. I wanted those clear gray eyes to go dark with lust while I fucked her senseless. I needed her to want me back.

Curious, I took her elbow in a loose grip as we crossed the street. Not wanting to scare her, I let go almost immediately, but not until I felt the shiver that went through her body at my touch. Her eyes flicked at me for a second, and I saw what I needed to know. She wasn't afraid of me, and she wasn't indifferent. She felt it too.

"So, just out of curiosity, why won't you go out with me?" I asked.

She risked a sidelong glance at me before her eyes skittered away. "I don't date."

"You don't date? At all? Are you into women?"

She raised a delicately arched eyebrow at me.

"It's a viable question," I said.

"Your assumption is that I must not like men if I don't like you?" she asked, her formerly prim in tone now frosty, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

I shrugged. "I'm just trying to figure you out. If you're not into women, are you saying you don't date anyone? Ever?"

"I don't have time for a social life," she said. "I have a dual concentration, and I’m working for two professors this semester.”

"Everyone has time for some kind of social life," I said, knowing it was true. She was busy, but so was I, and I still managed to get out of the office.

"I don't," she said.

I took her arm as we crossed another street, enjoying the way she trembled at my touch. I wasn't going to give up.

"Then it's not me you don't like," I said. “It's dating in general."

"I haven't been on many dates,” she admitted. "But they've always been a waste of time."

"That's because you haven't gone out with me."

She laughed. My ego might have suffered from her laughter, but the sound was unexpectedly beautiful, her cool voice transforming into something as clear and crisp and gorgeous as her gray eyes. I wanted to make this girl laugh again, to feel that sound falling over me, the joy and delight suffusing her, chasing off her restraint. I wished I'd been looking at her eyes when she laughed. I had a feeling they would be as alluring when she was amused as I knew they would be when she was aroused.

"There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?" I asked. She shook her head. Maybe it was my self-confidence talking, but I thought she looked a little regretful.

"I'm sorry,” she said, actually sounding like she was sorry. “I know this is difficult for you, since it seems no one ever tells you no, but I really do have to decline. I don't have time to date, and I'm not interested in being your flavor of the week."

"Hey, it's not like that," I protested, even though, with other women, it was exactly like that. Emily came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk and turned to face me, her eyes narrowed.

"It's not? You're looking for a girlfriend?"

I shifted my weight and fought the urge to squirm under her assessing gray gaze. Normally, people only saw what I wanted them to see—Tate Winters, the youngest male in the Winters clan, successful businessman and killer with the ladies. I liked to keep things on the surface outside my family. I'd learned the hard way that when I let people in, they were usually only interested in digging for scandal or money. Emily seemed to see more. Her eyes studied me, and somehow, I knew she knew that the Tate Winters everyone else saw was a front.

When I didn't answer, she said, "I thought so. Look, you seem like a nice guy, and it was very cool of you to come over and straighten out the whole mess between Holden and Jo. But I'm not going to sleep with you, and I don't have time for a relationship, even if you were interested in one, which you're not. Going to dinner with you would be a bad investment of my time."

She turned back toward her apartment and started walking again, leaving me behind. I caught up and walked beside her in silence, running various arguments through my mind and rejecting them. I thought about offering to sleep with her outside a relationship—that was an efficient use of her limited free time—but I got the feeling that casual sex was not on her agenda. Offering it would probably not improve my case.

That left me in a unique situation. Sometimes, when a woman said she wasn't going to sleep with me, she was playing a game. I didn't know Emily well enough to say this with certainty, but I was pretty sure she meant exactly what she’d said. She had no intention of sleeping with me. We were both working under the assumption that I didn't want a girlfriend. Was I sure about that? I'd never wanted one before.

I walked beside Emily in silence, sneaking glances down at her, watching the way the light played over her gleaming hair, how her hips swayed with every step, her round tits jiggling just enough to tease my imagination.

I didn't know if I wanted a girlfriend. I did know I wanted to pry this woman open and find out what was beneath her cool composure. I needed to know everything, inside and out—what she was thinking, what she looked like naked, how to make her laugh, how to make her come.

We reached her building, and I walked her up. I left her at her door, saying only, "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Emily."

I was tempted to try to kiss her goodbye, but I held back and was rewarded by a flash of confused disappointment in her striking eyes when I left without pushing for more.

She had one thing right, I thought as I walked back to the club. If all I wanted from her was a fuck, then I was wasting her time. What she didn't know was that if I decided I wanted more, she didn't stand a chance.