Bad Boy Billionaire (A Standalone Romance) (4 page)

The thought of being trapped in Florida with him both excited and terrified her. She had even started to formulate an excuse as to why she couldn’t go. A family event of some kind. Behind his ruthless playboy businessman image, he was a sweet guy. She could tell: she hadn’t met many of them. He probably knew from her personnel file that she had no immediate family except for Janey, but that didn’t matter, right? She was Latina and she knew that despite whatever sweetness lay beneath his façade, he no doubt viewed her through the same lens as every other WASPy guy ever had. That meant large, chaotic, catholic family.  That was certainly one stereotype she wished she conformed to, but sadly it wasn’t true of her.

No, Janey was all she had left. Her dad had abandoned them as babies, and her mom had all but done the same when she met her
Prince Charming
. Jake Weathers had seen no need in his life for another man’s children. Maria didn’t know all of the details, but it didn’t sound like her mom had taken much persuading to offload her two daughters, aged five and four, onto her own elderly parents. Now their grandparents were dead and they had nobody.

Maria could have used her contacts to track her mom down – Janey had often begged her to – but she knew deep-down that it didn’t make sense. There wasn’t going to be a fairytale ending, no matter how much Janey wished there would be. The woman had abandoned them when they were practically babies. Hell, she hadn’t even come out of the woodwork after Janey’s arrest.

But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting Janey out. When she opened her mouth to tell Breton about her fictional cousin Crystal’s birthday that weekend and how important it was to her, only the word ‘sure’ had slipped out.

Because she couldn’t stop thinking about Johnny’s message. Johnny’s
latest
message. She’d stopped taking his calls, but she couldn’t stop him from sending messages. She had managed to block the first one from her mind, but they just got more and more gruesome. He had sent her one just that morning showing a woman whose face was bruised and battered beyond recognition with the words
want this on your conscience
? She had immediately pictured that bruise on Janey’s neck. Who had done it? Because it sure as hell hadn’t been caused by a fall.

That was what had made her decide in the end. Who cared if he was a filthy rich manwhore? Because in the end, her sister was worth a hundred times more than her own moral code. And if fucking Chase Breton could guarantee Janey’s freedom, then it was a damn small price to pay.

Maria glanced up to see Breton standing over her desk.

“Ready?”

“Uh-huh,” she muttered, quickly closing the folder she’d been snooping in. she glanced at the time. “You know it’s rush hour, right?”

He shrugged.

“Which airport are we leaving from? The travel desk hasn’t sent me the itinerary yet.”

He smiled, flashing her a perfect set of white teeth that stood out against him tanned face. “We’re not going to the airport.”

“You gonna drive?” Maria asked, deadpan.

“Yup,” he smirked, walking toward reception before she had a chance to ask him how they were really getting there.

Maria stood quickly and darted after him. He had already called the elevator by the time she reached the reception area. Rachel seemed to be going through a massive internal conflict: it looked like she couldn’t decide whether to play the damsel in distress for Breton or throw filthy looks at Maria. She settled for a combination.

“Hey Maria,” she whispered breathily as the elevator chimed its arrival. “Where did you say you went to school?”

Maria held the doors to prevent them from closing. “I don’t think I did, Rachel. But I went to Ignatius.”

“The Secretarial School there?”

Maria nodded and tried not to smile. Beside her, Breton was tapping his leather soles against the marble floor tiles. “Ah-ha.”

Rachel smiled. “Really?” she gasped. “When?”

“Rachel,” Breton said sternly. “We’ve got somewhere to be. Can’t you play get to know your colleague another time?”

Without thinking, Maria put her hand on his forearm to delay him. The physical contact with him sent electric sparks shooting through her. Exhilarated, she turned back to Rachel. “Two thousand five to two thousand seven.” Breton was looking at her with such a strange mix of desire and curiosity that she felt like she was going to burst. She stepped into the elevator with him, trying to ignore the lurch of desire in the pit of her stomach.

Rachel smiled sweetly. “Oh my gosh, that’s so strange,” she said breathily with an exaggerated frown. “Because my friend Becky went there at that exact time and she said there was never a Maria de Reyes. I even sent her a picture of you.”

Maria leaned out of the elevator. “Sounds like you went to a lot of trouble to find out about me. I’m truly touched,” she smiled. “But she wouldn’t have. I studied distance.”

The doors closed on Rachel’s stunned, frustrated face.

Maria told herself there was plenty of time for smugness later. She inhaled deeply and neutralized her expression.

“She sure went to a lot of trouble to find out about me.”

Breton shrugged. “I guess she thinks there’s something going on between me and you.”

Maria smiled, suddenly feeling stifled by the enclosed space. They weren’t touching but it felt to her like they were. His presence was huge normally; now stuck in a small, confined space with him, it felt like her was all over her.

“I guess so.” She looked around, wishing the elevator would speed up. She glanced at the monitor. “Hey don’t take this the wrong way, but we’re going up. Is there usually a minion who pushes the button for you?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Standing slightly behind him, Maria couldn’t help but admire the movement from her vantage point: his jacket was slung over his other shoulder, and, in his shirt sleeves, even slight movements emphasized the strong, chiseled body underneath the thin layer of expensive cotton.

“That’s real funny,” she said. “But seriously come on, we don’t want to miss the flight.”

He turned around and gazed at her. The corners of his eyes were crinkled up, she noticed, along already deep lines. She’d met a number of executives in her line of work – never anyone as affluent as Chase Breton, mind – and not one of them had had such a ready smile.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, rolling her eyes. If they weren’t taking so damn long to get to the airport she would have happily stared at those smiling eyes for hours.

“You.”

“Me, what?” She leaned past him and was about to hit the button for the basement parking level when he grabbed her wrist.

She looked up at him in shock, wondering if he felt the same jolt of energy that she just had. Former boyfriends had flicked away at her body for hours and not produced the same shock of pleasure that fleeting contact with his body had caused. Judging from the look in his eyes, she was willing to bet that he had.

“You’re freaking out,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off her. “You can’t stand to be late, can you?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

He nodded, watching her as the doors glided open. “That’s a good quality.”

“Thanks. Now can we go?” She reached for the button again. Only then did she realize that he was still gripping her wrist in his strong hand. He must have realized at the same time because he immediately let go.

“Come on,” he said, stepping out of the elevator.

A gust of wind hit Maria in the face. She realized why when she stepped out. They were on the roof of the building.

“How the hell?” There was no elevator button for the roof.

He turned and smiled back at her. “The only access is with my private elevator. I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said. His eyes glinted. “There’s no thirteenth floor. But if you press thirteen…” his voice rose as he spoke so he was almost yelling by the time he said
thirteen.
It was only when he finished speaking that Maria realized why: a huge, black helicopter was slowly easing itself down onto the roof.

“Ah,” she said, feeling foolish.

He smiled. “Sorry. I should’ve just told you. But it was too much fun.”

They walked across the roof, ducking underneath the spinning rotors as they got closer. Breton opened the door closest to them and helped her inside. The pilot pulled off his earmuffs and nodded to Breton.

“Afternoon, sir,” he yelled over the noise of the engines. “You still want to take the controls?”

Breton nodded looking as enthusiastic as a little kid. “Sure.” He helped Maria put on her life preserver and buckled her in. She watched in awe as he took the controls and guided them up over the city. She had never been in a helicopter before. She was startled when his voice came through the earmuffs he’d placed gently over her ears. She hadn’t realized they were connected to anything.

“What d’ya think?”

“It’s amazing,” she smiled. “You can see so much from up here. Everything.” She glanced to her other side and out the opposite window. “Like there’s the park! All of it.”

“It’s pretty cool,” he said.

“Are we going all the way to Florida in this thing?”

He laughed. “No, just out of the city. We’ll meet the jet and fly from there.”

“Okay.” Maria was so stunned she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Breton Enterprises had a centralized team who looked after travel, so she’d never had to book his transport. She knew he was wealthy, but sitting there in his private helicopter on the way to meet his private jet brought it home. He existed in a completely different world to her.

“We’re here,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

Maria gazed out of the window as they descended. She wasn’t easily impressed but she couldn’t help but stare in awe at the neat jet sitting on the runway beneath them. It was pure white except for a swirly cursive B on the side; the company’s discreet logo. Breton landed smoothly, gaining him a nod of approval from the pilot beside him. As soon as they were on the ground he unbuckled and jumped out the side door. Maria turned around to see him on her side. He opened the door and reached for her crotch to unbuckle her safety belt. Maria stared up at him as he did so, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were hovering about the place where she’d spent a considerable about of time picturing them. She shook her head.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She could only tell what he was saying by reading his lips: the noise of the copter drowned out everything he said. She nodded, following him out onto the tarmac. He guided her up the steps to the jet with one hand in the small of her back. She left his hand there. It felt strangely natural.

At the top of the steps, they were greeted by a gorgeous leggy blond who introduced herself as Greta, their captain. Behind her was a similarly stunning woman called Izzy, their steward. Maria smiled and glanced back at Breton with a smirk. She felt a jolt of delight when it took him a split second too long to look up at her face. He’d been staring at her rounded butt as she walked up the steps.

“What?” he murmured, caught.

She was about to respond when Izzy spoke. “Welcome to the Breton One, Ms. de Reyes. Have you been to Chalk Key before?”

Maria smiled. “No. Never. But I’ve always wanted to.”

She stepped through the doorway and it was all she could do to stop her jaw from hitting the ground. She’d been on a tiny private plane before as part of a job, but never a jet. And certainly nothing like this. The cabin was laid out like it was purpose built for business and relaxation. There was a table on one side with six comfortable-looking leather seats arrayed around it. On the other side, further down, were two huge recliners separated by a clear perspex table. Opposite the loungers was a huge flatscreen TV. The loungers looked like the kind of chairs that made you feel cocooned and sleepy the moment you eased yourself into them, she thought. All of the seats were upholstered in the same muted blue color as the Breton logo. They stood out against the creamy tones of the rest of the interior. She reached down and touched one of the recliners. She groaned softly as her fingers traced the buttery soft leather.

“That good, huh?”

She glanced back at him. He was standing behind her watching her. If she didn’t know better, he seemed eager to see her reaction to his fancy plane.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Custom job?”

He nodded. “I designed it myself.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? I mean, I know that’s on most peoples’ bucket lists: ‘get rich and design your own shit’, but I can’t imagine that works out anything like they’d planned. This,” she said, spinning around on her heels. “This is real classy.”

He smiled and looked down. If he wasn’t the famous Chase Breton she would have sworn he looked embarrassed.

“I studied industrial design. So I’m glad to hear you say that. It makes the fight worth it.”

“The fight?” Maria asked dreamily as she dropped into the closest lounger and closed her eyes.

She knew from the way his voice seemed to move that he had sat down beside her. “Yeah. Well I’m sure you can imagine it. My old man had plans for me from the moment I was born. Before it even. So he wasn’t exactly pleased when I announced that I wanted to study something creative.”

“What did he want you to study?”

“Law. Finance. Engineering. Something weighty. Something suitable for a future CEO.”

Maria opened one eye and found him watching her with an earnest look on his face. “What if you didn’t want to be CEO?”

He laughed bitterly. “Who says I wanted to be?”

“Oh no, poor baby,” she mocked. “Most people would jump at the chance.”

He shook his head. “You know, I don’t think that’s true. Sure, the money sounds awesome. But the hours are punishing and if you screw up it means the company could go under and thousands of people lose their jobs. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“So is working three jobs just to try and make ends meet.”

He sighed. “Look, I’m not saying it isn’t. I just mean it’s not all caviar and champagne and naked models all the time. There are pressures too.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Come on, I bet it’s like ninety percent caviar and champagne and naked models, right?”

He laughed. “You’re really funny, you know that?”

“Last defense of the big girl,” she shrugged.

“Oh no, poor baby,” he mimicked.

She reached behind her, grabbed a neatly folded blanket and threw it at him. “Harsh!”

He shrugged. “Hardly.
Last defense of the big girl
,” he repeated. “Come
on
.”

“What?” she protested. “It’s a thing. The fat funny chick.”

“First off it’s wrong. Plus it’s like looking at aged rib eye and saying meat.”

“I’m not sure I follow your meat analogy.”

He laughed. “You just want me to spell it out. Okay, fine. Maria, you’ve got the most sublime body I’ve ever seen. Those curves would drive a man insane.”

“So I’m the rib eye, then, or…” she blurted awkwardly, feeling her cheeks start to burn. “I didn’t have you down as a steak guy.”

“Then you got me wrong. What kinda guy did you think I was?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Salads. Premium brand water.”

His face fell in mock shock. “How could you?”

She leaned back against the lounger unable to stop laughing. When she finally opened her eyes again he was leaning over the arm of his chair watching her. She looked away quickly.

“Or, like, something macrobiotic.”

“Stop talking about food,” he said levelly, still staring into her eyes.

She glanced back at him, feeling emboldened by the fact that she had an excuse to flirt. She was just doing her job after all. “What do you want to talk about then?” she asked breathily.

His eyes locked on hers. She could have sworn they turned a deeper blue. Maybe it was just his pupils, which were dilated wide even though the dramatic evening sun was streaming in through the windows and lighting up the cabin.

Izzy interrupted them looking sheepish. “Sorry to disturb you. The captain was ironing out some problems with flight control. We’re ready to go.”

Breton nodded and sat back properly in his seat.