Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (17 page)

Let them put
that
on the ten o’clock news.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

RACHEL

I hadn’t been expecting all of this fanfare outside of the hotel ballroom. When we made it inside, I was greeted by socialites milling about. I noticed the mayor and his posse across the room. The mayor smiled and held up his hand, waving us both over. Zane had such a firm grip around my waist I thought he might snap his hand off.

He was remaining true to his word: he wasn’t letting me get away tonight.

“Zane, so good to see you,” said Mayor John Samuel, flashing his creepy politician smile. He ignored me. “We have a seat for you right next to me and my wife. Why don’t you go scope it out and we’ll catch up later?”

Zane nodded and shook his hand. “Thanks, John. Much appreciated.” Zane steered me away toward the front of the ballroom. There was a small stage set up. “Fuck, I hate that guy,” Zane muttered under his breath. We made it to our table.

There was no placard for me. “Fuck,” Zane said loudly. He looked around the room and saw Jane. He waved her over. She came running, nearly tripping on her high heels.

“Rachel,” she said, nodding at me. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

“As do you,” I said.

I saw her eyes flash to the ring on my finger and Zane’s hand around my waist. She was trying valiantly to ignore it. “What’s up, Mr. Reid?”

“Rachel doesn’t have a seat at my table.”

Jane’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t RSVP for a guest.”

“Yeah, I did,” Zane said forcefully. “I most certainly fucking did.”

Jane blanched. “I’ll-I’ll get the party planner. But we really can’t get another seat for her at this table. We’d either have to bump the head of the network’s wife or the mayor’s, and you know that isn’t happening.”

Zane’s face darkened. “Fix it,” he said.

Jane didn’t fix it. She
tried
to fix it. But the Mayor swept Zane away, my fiancé mouthing a hurried apology to me. I was shunted to the overflow table near the bathrooms. It was just as well. I didn’t mind not having to be on my best behavior for the night. I put my purse down in a chair next to an old man who had fallen asleep. He was snoring in his tuxedo. I was reminded for one surreal moment of several months before in the library. The contrast between the moth-eaten chairs, a used newspaper and the moment before me made my head spin.

Look how far I’d come.

The band was playing rousing swing music and several people had started dancing. I sipped champagne stolen from the table next to me, completely content with my comatose companion. I reached into my purse and opened the Kindle app on my iPhone. I’d never done so much reading as I had since Zane had purchased this phone for me. I used to sneak paperback books into much bigger purses at parties when I was younger. Callie hated it. She said I was embarrassing her by being anti-social.

My stomach burned at the thought of my sister. I’d give anything to have her be upset right now that I was reading at a social function instead of why she was actually upset with me.

I opened up the recent release from my favorite romance author and started reading. It was my little secret that these were the books I loved the most. Their books were my only break my brain ever had from reality, and I relished in it.

I was twenty pages into the latest bodice ripper when the sound of a purse hitting the chair next to me nearly made me jump. “God, I hate parties like this.” I looked up. It was Liz.

“Hi Ms. Anders-“

She shook her head. “Call me Liz, please. I can’t stand any more sycophants tonight.” She took the place card of the person who was supposed to be sitting there and crumpled it up, tossing it under the table. She reached into her enormous handbag and pulled out a bottle of Chandon champagne. “I bring my own to shindigs like this. The network never splurges on the good stuff.” She took my champagne glass and dumped it out into a spare glass on the table, uncorking her own and pouring both of us generous glasses to enjoy. “Here’s to not having to talk to anyone else for the rest of the goddamned evening.”

I put my phone back in my purse and raised my champagne glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Liz downed her glass in a single series of gulps and motioned to Zane. He was sitting dead-faced next to the mayor, who was telling a story that the rest of the table apparently found hysterical. “You see Zane, right now? He can get away with making that face for the rest of the evening. If I so much as
sneezed
in here, someone would have a cover image of me with the headline ‘Liz Anders rages at
Boiler Room
premiere.’”

I laughed. “That’s the price to pay for being a woman I guess.” I finished my glass of champagne and set it on the table. “Zane sent you over here, didn’t he?”

Liz grinned. “He’s a good guy, Rachel. You’re lucky to have him.”

“I know,” I replied. “Do you – are you…married?”

“Not anymore,” she said. “My husband passed away and I’d rather be alone and happy than miserable and with someone else. I’ve got five kids though. Single mom and all of that. It’s a hell of a lot easier when you’ve got a billion dollars, let me tell you. I’ve been a married mom broke and a single mom rich. Don’t let anyone tell you that money doesn’t buy you happiness. Only people with money say that.”

Ryan Angel tapped on the microphone. A screech went out over the ballroom and everyone grabbed their ears in pain. “Sorry,” Ryan said, beaming at the crowd. He’d been spray-tanned within an inch of his life and looked like a tall Oompa Loompa. “Ladies and gentleman, we are here to celebrate the premiere of
Boiler Room
set in the greatest city on earth!” He paused for the cheers and applause.

Liz rolled her eyes and poured more champagne. “Panderer,” she muttered. I laughed.

“We’ll be playing only the highlights from the show tonight; specifically, the best deals from the premiere episode so we can let you get back to your food and dancing. Or more specifically, your alcohol.”

Liz held up her champagne glass and hollered up at the stage. The lights dimmed and a white screen was lowered from the ceiling. The sound boomed and the edited footage rolled. “I’ll be in the bathroom,” I whispered to Liz.

“I hate watching myself on TV too. I’m going to go step outside for some air,” she said. “Meet back here in forty minutes? I’ll see if I can get some food snuck out here from the kitchen.” I nodded and nearly ran to the bathroom.

I wandered into a stall and shut the door. I could hopefully read in here without anyone bothering me for a few minutes. I was deep into the second chapter of the evening when I heard feminine voices enter the bathroom in a group. I never did understand why women felt the need to pee together. It was bizarre.

“…Reid tonight? God I could swim in those blue eyes and dimples.”

“You take the dimples. I’ll take his ass.”

“I’ll take his money,” said a third voice. “I’ve already had his ass. So to speak.”

The women all giggled together.

I felt my face growing hot, a knot of jealousy twisting in my stomach.

“It’s a pity he’s engaged. It won’t last, though. Imagine going on a TV show to just wallet fuck one of the investors?”

“Eh, I don’t think that’s why she did it. She seemed genuinely interested in getting her business off the ground.”

“It’s called
acting
. Give me a fucking break,” said the voice of the woman who had allegedly fucked my fiancé.

I tried to slow my breathing; I felt like it was loud enough that they could hear me in here.

I heard the clicking of makeup compacts and purses. “She’s just some Southern girl. She’s not even that pretty, honestly.”

“She’s got pretty big tits, though. You know Zane likes those.”

“Whatever. I don’t know what his game is, but trust me. She is not his type at all. Imagine her coming to more functions? Red carpet events? She’d trip over her buck teeth and fall on her fat ass in any kind of high heel. She’s a wallet fucker and if Zane’s not already playing some game, he’ll realize she’s only after his money. Just wait. She’s basically his whore, bought and paid for.” I heard a few sighs. “Are you peeing or not?”

“Nah, I’m good. Food time.”

I waited until their voices left the room to start crying.

It was another good ten minutes before I left the bathroom. I had to fix my makeup as best as I could with wet paper towels. I reapplied my lip gloss that the makeup artist had gifted to me and took a look in the mirror. My face was blotchy and my eyes were red and glassy. It was completely, utterly obvious that I’d been sobbing my heart out. This and sunburns were the two things I hated about being so pale.

I took a steadying breath and plowed through the door of the bathroom where I ran smack into Scott Friend. “Sorry,” I gasped. He was the last person I wanted to run into.

He ran his brown, beady eyes over my face and pulled out a handkerchief. “You missed some mascara,” he said.

I took the handkerchief gratefully and dabbed underneath my eyes again. He’d been right. I tried to hand the handkerchief back to him but he put his hand up to deny me. “Keep it. Consider it a souvenir.”

I snapped it into my purse, making a mental note to toss it into a trash can before Zane saw it. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “I knew it was only a matter of time before Zane made you cry.” I opened my mouth to respond but he cut me off. “I’m kidding. Sometimes I cry when I see myself on TV as well.”

“This has been great, but I really should get going.“ I pushed past him but he stopped me.

“Business going alright? I’m guessing you, what? Doubled your sales projections but still haven’t serviced one-one-hundredth of the people you wanted to, am I right? And Zane is slow to build those pharmaceutical connections?”

I blinked at him. “How do you know-“

“I’ve literally made it my business to know these things. You know, I would still fund your business. Break your contract with Zane. I can do everything you want. I can convince the pharmaceutical companies to license your technology, no exclusivity contracts. We can get into doctor’s offices before they do, I promise you that.”

“I’m quite happy with Mr. Reid,” I replied.

“Mr. Reid,” he said with a lilting sarcasm in his voice. “Do you call him that in bed?”

My face flushed bright crimson. “I don’t see why my sex life is your business.”

“I pegged you for a career woman,” Mr. Friendly said. “When you walked through those doors; the fire in your eyes told me that you would sacrifice almost anything to make your company run. I didn’t think you were a wallet fucker. And maybe you aren’t. Maybe you’re better than that. Maybe it’s real love that made him propose to you. Maybe it’s real love that made you accept.” He gave me a searching look. “Or maybe you made an arrangement so he finally gets that kid he so desperately wants. The one he’s been wanting so badly because he’s going to…” He trailed off with a smile. “Well. We’ll save that information for another day, shall we?” He patted his tuxedo jacket until he found a business card. “When you want that info and a new business partner, call that number. It’s my direct line. Only my mother and my assistant have it. Cherish it. Night,” he said, strolling off into the lobby.

I held the thick parchment card in my hand. I felt like it was burning my skin. I tucked the card into my purse next to the handkerchief and walked purposely after Mr. Friendly. I stopped dead when I saw that he and Zane were yelling at each other.

I’d never seen Zane so angry. “You have a fucking
problem
, Scott?”

Scott smiled. “Not really. You?”

“You changed my RSVP. That’s why I didn’t get to sit with my
fiancée
tonight. What kind of game are you playing, Scott? Why the fuck don’t we take this outside and finally settle what’s been brewing over the last few years between us? I’d love to just fucking end this.”

Scott stuck his hands in his pockets and chortled. “You still haven’t told her, have you?”

I reached Zane’s arm just as it was on its way back to being cocked. He was about to punch Scott in the face. “Zane, stop! Please,” I begged him. There were photographers twenty feet away, their cameras pressed against the glass entrance doors of the ballroom.

Zane took a breath and dropped his arm. He adjusted his tuxedo jacket and nodded curtly at Mr. Friendly. “This isn’t over,” he hissed.

Scott grinned. “Oh, I have no doubt of that.” His shoes clicked as he walked back into the ballroom.

Zane was still bright red and fuming. He glanced out at the paparazzi and pulled me by the arm into a side room filled with coats. He locked the doors behind us. “Did that asshole talk to you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It was all bluster, though. Don’t worry about it.”

Zane punched his hand into the wall, stopping just before he cracked the drywall. “I fucking hate that guy.”

I stroked his back. “I know,” I said. My eyes were burning and I felt sadness creeping up my esophagus. I tried to choke back the tears but they started flowing against my will. Zane turned around, his face crumbling at the look on mine.

“What’s wrong? Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head but it was no use. It was ugly tears and snot time. I was howling. Zane pulled me into his strong arms and I laid my head on his chest. He sat there and held me while I cried. When I was finally composed enough to speak, I started with the hard stuff. “I’m still not pregnant. I drank champagne tonight, too. I just – just…there were these women in the bathroom and they were saying these terrible things about me being a wallet fucker and you not being attracted to me. And I felt like I was thirteen again and overhearing all of the middle school girls talking shit about me and it felt awful. I felt small and horrible and what am I doing here? I don’t belong here, Zane. This is absurd. You proposing to me? Bringing me here? Why do you want me? I don’t get it. I don’t deserve you.” I finally paused to take a deep breath.

Zane handed me tissues from a box in the corner of the coat room. I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. He put his fingers underneath my chin. “Look at me,” he said. I did. His blue eyes were burning into mine, his dark eyelashes contrasting brilliantly with the shade of his irises. “I love you. And I don’t give a fuck what those starving supermodels said about you in the bathroom. Fuck them Rachel. They hate themselves. You’ve outshined every woman here tonight. That’s what they’re jealous about.”