Billionaire's Tragedy (Standalone Book) (Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (16 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY

Olivia

I
cried myself to sleep on the couch and woke up in the early morning light
feeling stiff, cold, and annoyed with Lincoln Redding. I got up to make myself
a cup of coffee and checked my phone for messages. There was one from Bix
telling me to come over at nine for breakfast with the kids. It was only seven,
so I started the coffee and headed to the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

I stepped under the
steaming water and felt the previous night being washed down the drain. I
peeled off the strip of fake lashes that had migrated down to my cheek and
dropped them in the tub, swearing never to wear such weird fashion accessories
again. I closed my eyes and leaned against the tile as I let my memory of the
previous night play.

I was never going to be
able to erase the feeling of Linc's hands on my bare skin, or the way he bit my
lip as he kissed me, or the way his fingers felt when he'd slid them up and
down in my wetness. I felt the familiar ache of need beginning again, and as
the warm water cascaded down over me, I washed my hair while fantasizing about
how Linc's slick, wet body would feel gliding against my own.

"Argh," I
muttered as I tipped my head up, but found the shampoo suds flowing into my
eyes. I turned and rested my head against the tile as I fought back the tears
that threatened to spill over. I wasn't sure if I was crying about Linc or if
it was leftover pain from six months earlier. In the end, the origin of the
pain didn't matter as much as letting it out, so I let it flow.

An hour later, the waterworks
had abated and I was showered and dressed. I wandered into the kitchen and
poured my first cup of coffee, reveling in the strong scent of the dark brew. I
checked my email as I sipped from the steaming hot cup and was surprised to
find a message from Carl. He was rather cryptic, but the basic gist was that I
needed to get into the newsroom to see him as soon as possible. I emailed back
that I'd be in that afternoon and then went to finish getting ready for my
breakfast date with Bix and the kids.

I rang Bix's doorbell at
precisely nine and I heard the sound of thundering feet running toward the door
and two small voices shouting, "It's Aunt Liv! It's Aunt Liv!" The
door opened and two small whirling dervishes threw themselves at me. I hugged
and kissed them as I laughed and tried to find out if they'd been good since
I'd last seen them.

"I think we've been
quite good, Aunt Liv," Jake said with a very serious expression.
"I've been maintaining a chart on my wall, but Diana pulled it down this
morning, so I need to put it back up."

"Did not!"
Diana yelled at the top of her lungs. "Did not! Did not!"

Jake looked at her,
rolled his eyes, and stepped away from the tangle of arms. "Mom's making
stuffed French toast with cherries and cheese and a huge plate of bacon,"
he said as he walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

"Are you hungry, Aunt
Liv?" Diana asked. "I'm very hungry."

"I'm positively
starving," I said in a dramatic voice as I pretended to faint. She burst
into a fit of giggles as she ran after her brother.

"Aunt Liv is
positively starving," she said when she reached the kitchen.

"Well, then please
tell her to wash her hands and come sit at the table so we can eat," Bix
said as I stepped into the kitchen.

"Aunt Liv, wash your
hands so we can eat!" Diana yelled jumping up and down. "Wash your
hands!"

I walked over and planted
a kiss on Bix's cheek and then stepped to the sink and followed Diana's
instructions before taking a seat at the table.

"You've outdone
yourself, Bix," I said as I grabbed a strip of bacon and took a bite out
of it.

"I saw this recipe
in
Bon Appetite
and I wanted to try
it out before I used it on a bigger crowd," she said. Bix was dressed in
her usual uniform: a sweater topped by a matching cardigan and a pair of black
pants with holiday flats. This pair had sequined Santa faces on each of the
toes. Around her neck she was wearing a large necklace made of red and green
macaroni pieces strung together on a length of red yarn. I shot her a
questioning look, to which she responded, "Diana's preschool holiday
project."

We listened to the
children talk about their holiday parties at school and list all of the things
they'd put on their Christmas list as we stuffed ourselves. Once the meal was
done, Bix told the children that the choice was either dish duty or practicing
their music. Both quickly ran from the room and soon after we were treated to
the sounds of Jake on piano and Diana accompanying him on the drums.

"You got her
drums?" I laughed.

"My father bought
her a drum and said it would be good practice for her budding career as a rock star,"
Bix grinned. "She's hell on wheels, but my mother assured me that I was
quite a bit like her when I was that age."

"I can't even
imagine."

"My mother is a
known liar," she laughed as she cleared the dishes and stacked them next
to the sink. I pulled on the pink dishwashing gloves hanging on the hook inside
the cabinet and prepared to fulfill my duty. Bix looked at me as I turned on
the water and added soap. "So, I hear you absconded with the jewels last
night."

"Oh God, it was a
nightmare," I said rolling my eyes. "I was so worked up about Davis
Russo that I ran out of the place and completely forgot that I was wearing
them."

"What did Russo say
that got you so wound up?"

"He found me dancing
with Lincoln Redding and accused him of having bought his own reporter," I
said as I felt the fury rising in my chest again.

"Has he?" she
asked as she set a large empty platter on the corner next to me.

"Bix! How could you
even ask such a thing?" I said incredulously. "Of course, he hasn't
bought me! What do you think I am?"

"A little touchy are
we?" she grinned mischievously as she grabbed a sponge and began wiping
the table. "What else happened last night?"

I hesitated for a moment,
not knowing whether I wanted to tell her what had happened with Linc and how
he'd run out afterwards leaving me confused. But when I looked up, the
sympathetic look on her face told me that she already had a pretty good idea
that something had happened, so I spilled the details.

"What are you going
to do now?" she asked as she rinsed the sponge she'd used to wipe the
table before grabbing a towel and drying it.

"You're kind of anal
about the cleanliness thing," I observed.

"Well, aren't you a
regular Sherlock Holmes! Nice try at avoiding the issue," she smiled.
"What are you going to do about the boy?"

"I don't know,
Bix," I sighed. "I don't know how I feel about him. He's sexy, smart,
and rich, and there is definitely an animal attraction there, but I feel like
he's hiding something."

"What do you
mean?" She opened the cabinet and pulled out a fresh set of placemats and
began putting them on the clean table.

"I don't know, he
doesn't quite answer questions when I ask them," I said as I drained the
sink and rinsed the gloves before pulling them off and storing them away.
"It's like he's got something he wants to talk about, but every time I
ask, he pulls back and keeps it hidden."

"Are you sure this
isn't a case of the pot calling the kettle black?" she asked with a
knowing grin.

"Low blow,
Northrup," I laughed. "It's entirely possible, but I don't think I'm
wrong on this one."

"So, I return to my
previous question. What are you going to do?"

"Try and dig up the
dirt on Russo and report a story that will help me solidify my reputation as a
solid news reporter," I said as I leaned against the counter. "I have
to focus on my career, Bix. It's only been six months, but I know people are
wondering if I'll ever recover."

"Look, you didn't do
that, Liv," she said. "You know that was a betrayal by someone
entrusted with the power to make choices about information. You did what you
were supposed to do."

"I know, Bix, but
people who trusted me died because of my choice," I said quietly.
"So, it was my fault. At least, in some ways."

"You have to let that
go, Liv," she told me as she moved around the counter and put an arm
around my shoulder. "He betrayed your trust and used you just as much as
he used the others. It wasn't your fault."

I nodded as I leaned into
her hug and rested my head on her shoulder. We stood there for a long time,
listening to the kids practicing while I tried to get it through my head that
the deaths of my informants were not my fault.

"What's going on
with the story about the shootings?" she asked, breaking the silence and
bringing us back to the real world.

"I don't know. Carl
emailed me and said he had something, but he didn't share it over email,"
I said as I stood up and moved away from the sink. "I don't understand why
the guy who shot the senators is still laying in the morgue unidentified."

"That reminds me,
Doug said he overheard a couple of aides talking about the gun safety bill and
saying that Larry Bangor was doing everything he could to oppose it," she
said.

"That's weird, I
thought I heard Bangor was trying to help get enough votes to pass the
bill," I said. "I need to check that out. And on that note, it's time
for me to hit the road, chickadee!"

Bix smiled warmly, opened
the fridge, pulled out a paper bag, and handed it to me. It had my name written
on the front in handwriting that could have only come from a seven year old and
it was covered in stickers thanks to what I assumed was an overzealous
four-year-old helper.

"Lunch," she
said. "I know you never eat well when you're at the paper, so this is my
attempt to change that, at least for today."

"Thanks, Bix,"
I smiled as I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"Yes, well, someone
has to look out for you," she said as she hugged me back and whispered.
"Let him in, Liv. Just try."

I nodded as I pulled away
and yelled, "Hey, thundering hooves of music, I'm outta here!" The
kids stopped playing and ran into the kitchen wanting to know if I liked my
personalized lunch bag. "I love it," I said as I hugged each of them
tightly. "I love it more than you know."

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

Linc

In
the early hours of the morning, I told Brant that I was heading home to get
some rest. He'd said he'd be heading out as soon as he was sure that the CEO on
the other end of his message didn't need any additional information.

I texted Mick and told
him to pull the car around to the front of the building. A few minutes later, I
crossed the lobby and found him waiting at the curb. On the drive home, I
thought about calling Olivia. I wasn't sure if she'd be up this early, but I
found myself wanting to talk to her. More than that, I wanted to be curled up
next to her warm body – if I was honest, I wanted to do far more than curl up
with her.

There was something about
her that made me feel alive when I was with her. She was stubborn and willful,
but there was a base level of honesty that I didn't have with most people. And
suddenly it struck me: my money didn’t impress her at all. Most women I dated
wanted something from me, whether it was dinners out in fancy restaurants or
tickets to sold out events or trips to exotic places, they all wanted
something, but Olivia Moore wanted nothing. She didn't even pretend to care
about my money. And, that made me suspicious.

She wanted information,
that much was obvious. She wanted to know what was underlying my push for gun
safety legislation, and she wanted to know why Davis Russo and I hated each
other so much. And while there was part of me that wanted to tell her exactly
why I hated Russo and clue her in on all the damage he'd done, the other part
of me didn't want her to see me as the poor orphan whose parents had been
murdered by a mad gunman. I didn't want her to know the side of me that was
still hurt and lonely after all these years, but Mo's advice kept ringing in my
ears.

So, I pulled out my phone
and dialed Olivia's number. It went straight to voicemail and as I sat
listening to her telling me to leave a message and she'd get back to me as soon
as possible, I tried to think of something witty or smart to say, but it eluded
me. When the message beeped I took a deep breath and said, "Olivia,
it's
Lincoln Redding. Please give me a call at your earliest
convenience." I disconnected and exhaled slowly, hoping that what I'd said
would be compelling enough that she’d call me back, but knowing that chances
were just as good that she'd ignore me.