ALL THAT HE WANTS (Volume 1 The Billionaire's Seduction) (21 page)

“Don’t worry, I’ll go back in and get some.”

“You don’t have to – ”

“It’s already a done deal, so quit saying ‘You don’t have to.’ Let me just get you settled first.”

Johnny led me over to an empty cabana. I looked at him like
What are we doing here?

He gestured at the area, which was big enough to house a twenty-person party. “There you go.”

“There I go what?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Sit down, have something to eat, something to drink. Enjoy yourself.”

I looked around in a bit of panic. “I can’t sit here!”

“Why not?”

“I’m just one person! I can sit over there!” I said, pointing at one of the tables in the sun.

“This is the penthouse cabana. You sit here,” Johnny said with a tone of finality.

“But – ”

“If you don’t, I’m going to ask what you and Connor did after I left last night.”

I turned bright red. “I’m sitting, I’m sitting.”

“Good girl,” he grinned. “I’ll be right back with the sunglasses.”

Suddenly, with a huge wave of guilt, I remembered Anh. “I need to borrow your cell phone.”

He pulled it out of his pocket, punched in a code to unlock it, and handed it over. “See you in a minute.” Then he walked off.

I sat down in one of the plush chairs and sighed. It felt
so good.

Ahhh, Los Angeles at 11AM on a late spring morning. It was about 80 degrees with no humidity – just enough to make me want to pull off my robe, but not enough to overcome my shyness yet. The sky was deep blue with a few wisps of clouds. It had rained a few days ago, which always clears out the smog and makes everything beautiful.

There was an eighty-five old man in Anh’s and my apartment building who had lived in LA all his life. He told me once that after the rain, he caught a glimpse of what the city
used
to look like year-round when he was a boy.

Anh.

I started to dial the number –

“Hi there, my name’s Celia. What can I get you?” a friendly voice chirped.

I looked up to see a tall, really pretty blonde waitress in a white blouse and black skirt, with legs all the way down to Antarctica.

Man, did
every
woman who worked here have to be runway-worthy?

“Uhhh… water, please. Ice water. And…”

My brain clicked through hangover cures.

Greasy food, yuck. Goody’s headache powder… eh…

Hair o’ the dog that bit ya.

“What’s good for a hangover?” I asked, squinting up at her.

She laughed. “Well, I always go for a Bloody Mary.”

“Okay, that sounds good.”

“Spicy?”

“Noooo, just… regular. Uh, non-spicy. Do you guys have food?”

“We certainly do – hold on.” She walked over to a little desk at the cabana and pulled a menu out as though by magic, then handed it to me.

“Are you guys still serving breakfast?”

She smiled. “We serve brunch all day. Even if we didn’t, I think I could arrange it for
you
.”

And then she winked.

“Um… okay…”

I didn’t quite know how to take that.

Is she HITTING on me?!

Thoughts of my waitress’s sexual orientation disappeared as I looked at the menu and almost choked.

The prices were
astronomical
.

I thought about scratching the Bloody Mary, but I really wanted to stop the pounding in my head.

Instead, I quickly scanned for the cheapest food I could find.

“Could I have… a cup of strawberry yogurt?”

“That’s it?” she asked, a little surprised.

Actually, I was ravenous. A cup of yogurt wasn’t going to cut it, so I scanned for the next-cheapest thing, too.

“Um… and an order of toast.”

“Whole wheat, white, rye, French bread, or sourdough?”

“Um… sourdough.”

“…anything ellllsssse?” she asked, as though to say,
C’mon, get the caviar… get the caviar…

“That’s it,” I smiled.

“Okay, just keep the menu if you change your mind,” she said brightly. “Be back with your drink in a jiffy.”

I watched her strut away and wished I had legs like that.

You managed to sleep with an ultra-hot billionaire WITHOUT legs like that,
a little voice in my head pointed out. Not the mean, snarky voice, but the
You go girl!
voice that I heard far too seldom.

And then everything fell into place.

Ahhhhhh… I bet THAT’S why she winked at me.

After all, I
was
in the penthouse cabana, right?

And Connor owned the hotel.

I bet it was common knowledge who had checked in last night…

…and who he checked in
with
.

I looked over at the blonde waitress, and saw her whisper to a brunette co-worker over by the bar. They both cast glances back at me and said something else.

Oh, man, I wanted to crawl under the glass table. I could feel the blood in my cheeks.

People all
over
the hotel were probably gossiping right now. I could hear them:

Connor Templeton slept with HER?!

Yes he DID, honey, and don’t you forget it,
my sassy little voice
mm-hmmed
in my ear.

I stopped worrying so much about what other people were thinking – but then found something else to worry about.

If what Sebastian had said on the phone last night was right (“By any means necessary”), then the hotel had probably kicked somebody out of the room.

I winced.

That sucks.

I wondered what the hotel had to give them as compensation.

A free stay in the future?

A free week in a regular room?

Business tips from Connor?

OF COURSE.

Now it all clicked.

The guys in the lobby staring open-mouthed at Connor as he passed – especially the old, fat dudes. The ones who read
The Wall Street Journal
and
The Financial Times.
The ones who would have known what he looked like.

And the hotel staff – especially the supermodel desk clerk – all acting like Jesus had just booked a room.

I pondered that for a second.

If I were rich enough to afford a penthouse… and Warren Buffett kicked me out… but I got to talk to Warren Buffett for ten minutes about stocks,
and
got a free stay in the future… maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad trade.

I wonder what Anh would –

Anh.

Damn I’m so A.D.D.

That’s ‘attention deficit disorder,’ not anything hip ‘teh kidz’ are saying these days, by the way.

I started to dial Anh’s cell number –

“A beautiful day, isn’t it?” a deep male voice interrupted.

I looked over in shock, halfway wondering,
Who’s this gonna be, the general manager?

But it wasn’t a hotel employee, unless the hotel allowed guys to walk around out of uniform.

He was completely bald, but in a Jason Statham or Bruce Willis badass way, not a ‘needs Rogaine’ kind of way. He was slightly dark with olive skin. He was wearing a black short-sleeve shirt and black dress slacks, and his arms and chest were powerfully muscled underneath. His nose had been broken once and never healed straight. His jaw looked like it was made out of granite, and he was wearing black sunglasses that completely hid his eyes.

He was kind of scary-looking, though his voice was pleasant enough.

And he was standing just at the edge of the cabana.

“Uh… yes. Yes, it is,” I agreed warily.

“I have to tell you, I’ve been to hotels all over the world,” the man said, “and this ranks with the best of them. Best in Los Angeles, by far.”

He had the lightest hint of an accent, but I couldn’t place it. It wasn’t American, though – not a Southern or New York or Texas accent, for instance. It sounded vaguely European.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I smiled politely, and looked for the waitress or Johnny.

“Oh, you haven’t been to too many places?” the man asked.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh, well, I’m sure that will change now.”

“Ex
cuse
me?”

I wasn’t
exactly
sure what he meant, but I didn’t like what I
thought
he might be hinting at.

Turns out that was
exactly
what he was hinting at.

“Now that you’re travelling with such an impressive… companion,” the man smiled.

Anger flared up in me.

Asshole.

“I don’t know who you are, or if you think you’re being funny – ” I started.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” the man asked as he stepped inside the cabana and sat down in a chair across the table from me. The smile never left his face.

I felt like a spider had crawled up my arm. I jerked away from the table, even though the man was still a good five feet away from me. “Yes, I do. I’m not comfortable with – ”

“You should tell Mr. Templeton that he should tread lightly,” the man said, never altering his smile. “He’s very good at alienating people. He should remember that spurned allies sometimes turn into enemies.”

The spider on my arm had turned into a snake slithering down my spine.

I stood up, knocking my chair over, and took a couple of steps back.

“Leave me alone,” I said, as coldly and with as much control as I could muster, “or I’ll scream.”

He
tsked
with his tongue. “No need for that, I’ll be going now. Just remember to tell him what I said.”

Then he stood up quickly and disappeared behind the cabana, as though he were just out for a stroll.

My mind whirred quickly, even though my limbs felt like they were stuck in molasses.

This guy was threatening Connor – I needed to find out who he was, where he was going –

I stepped around the edge of the cabana, to see where he’d gone.

He was disappearing into a doorway at the end of the patio, into what looked like the kitchen area for the pool.

“Lily!” a voice called out behind me, and almost made me jump out of my skin.

I turned around. Johnny was striding towards me, a pair of sunglasses on his face and another one grasped in his hand.

“Where you going?”

I pointed towards the door and said in a fast, frantic voice, “Bald guy – sunglasses – black shirt – he threatened Connor – ”

Johnny’s face suddenly went cold and stone-like, and his easygoing manner turned taut and lethal.

“Stay here,” he said, then rushed for the doorway, his hand edging up towards his jacket.

Towards his gun.

I watched him run past a startled waitress, then disappear into the doorway.

I stood there trembling, hugging myself, still dressed in my robe. Despite the sunlight beating down on me, I felt like a winter wind had chilled me to the bone.

There was a light
crack!
behind me, and I jumped.

I turned around to see the blonde waitress setting down my Bloody Mary on the glass table.

“Here’s your drink – oh my God, are you okay?” she asked, real concern in her expression. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I’m okay, thanks,” I whispered, and turned back to look at the door.

It was a very, very long three minutes.

Johnny finally came back through the door, a grim look on his face. The gun was still in his holster.

“Did you see him?” I asked.

“No,” he said, and held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

I looked down at it, then handed it over.

Dammit, I didn’t call Anh!

Although I wouldn’t have known what to say if I did.

Hey, Anh, I hooked up with this hot billionaire, and this other guy sorta kinda threatened him and ran off, so I gotta say goodbye so the bodyguard can use the phone. See ya!

He hit a button on the smartphone’s screen and waited a second.

Somebody answered – apparently Connor, judging from the conversation.

“You in the room?” Johnny asked tersely. “Good.
Stay there.
We’re coming up.”

He hung up and took me gently by the elbow.

As we passed by the table, I looked down at my untouched Bloody Mary.

“Wait – I have to pay for it – ”

With
what
, I had no clue, but I thought it would be rude to dine and ditch.

Or drink and ditch.

Well…
not
drink, but still ditch.

For the first time since he’d come back, Johnny smiled and shook his head. “You’re a keeper, Lily.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked warily.

“It means you’re the first woman I’ve met around Connor who worried about paying for something herself, much less paying for it after having her life threatened.”

A little glow sparked in my chest.

At least there was
something
unusual about me, as far as the women in Connor’s life went.

Even if all it was, was that I didn’t want to stiff a waitress.

“Thanks… but he didn’t really threaten
me.
”

“Close enough.”

“But they’ve got food coming, too – ”

“Don’t worry about it,” Johnny said, and hustled me past the mystified wait staff.

I hope they don’t think I’m getting pulled upstairs pronto because Connor decided he wants to have sex,
I thought, mortified.

Although that wouldn’t have been such a bad reason.

It would have been a lot more preferable than his life being threatened.

Connor opened the door, his face a question mark. “What’s going on?”

Johnny hustled me into the room. “There was an incident.”

Connor smirked at me. “Lily, did you slap somebody?”

“I wish I had,” I answered honestly.

He frowned, and Johnny made me recount exactly what had happened.

Connor listened the whole time with his arms crossed, his chin on one thumb, and his index finger crossing his lips. He stared deep into my eyes as I talked.