For Angelo (Full-Length Standalone Italian Billionaire Romance) (27 page)

Oh gosh,
she had forgotten about those tint-less windows.

“Hey, you,” a laughing voice called out to her from the sidewalk. Lane turned to it in relief, recognizing her friend’s voice.

She waved hi at her friend, watching in amusement as the guys around them literally stopped walking to stare as Farica sailed past them, looking every inch the fun-loving heiress she was. Her outfit was glittery and short once more, but somehow Farica managed to make the dress appear more elegant than trashy.

“I saw everything!” As was her habit, Farica had her arm curled comfortably around Lane’s upon reaching her friend. “And I’m still gobsmacked. I never pegged you to be the exhibitionist.”

Lane was about to protest when she saw Josh across the street. She started to wave, but as soon as their eyes met, Josh lifted his chin and deliberately turned away. He had snubbed her, again.
 

Farica saw the entire thing, too. “Still mad at you for quitting?” she remarked sympathetically.
 

“I guess.” Lane had told Josh early on that she had come back to work out her notice, but he had only laughed it off.
You’re a smart girl, Lane,
he had told her.
You know it’s foolish to give up reality for fantasy.

“He’ll get over it sooner or later.” As they started walking, she added, “His ego just needs time. You know how men are.”
 

Lane nodded, but privately she didn’t think it would be that easy. Yesterday, she had told Josh her three-week notice had ended, and Josh had cried. Not only that, but he had tried to kiss her, and she had been so shocked that he might have been able to get away with it—

She mentally winced, remembering how Angelo had swiftly put her behind his back, out of her friend’s reach, before planting a fist in Josh’s face.

Biting her lip, she said, “I just wish I was able to think of a way to make Josh feel less hurt—”

Farica shook her head. “Don’t go there. Trust me on this, because I’ve tried it for years. You
can’t
make people feel what you want them to feel.”

“Right.” Lane forced herself to smile, not wanting her friend to realize that she had unintentionally struck a chord. But worry gnawed at her, and she wondered if she was unconsciously doing the same thing with Angelo.

“Anyway, let’s talk about happier things,” Farica was saying. “How are the preparations going?”

“So far, everything’s gone as planned.” Lane’s smile dimmed. “Are you sure you can’t come tonight?”

“Aww, look at you giving me that puppy look because I’m not going,” Farica teased. “And to think you couldn’t even look at me straight the first day in class.”

Lane turned red, and when Farica giggled, she confessed awkwardly, “It’s a-all Angelo.” And it was true. She had improved by leaps and bounds under Angelo’s tutelage, although she had a feeling it was more because he had threatened to date another woman every time he wanted her to try a new coping technique.
 

And of course there are the rewards,
a sly voice inside her mind intruded.
If you did good, he promised to eat you good, too—

“Oh dear, you’re blushing.”

“Am n-not!” Then she glared at Farica. “Now, see what you m-made me do! You’ve made me s-stammer again!”

Farica laughed and impulsively gave her friend a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Lane,” she said feelingly. “Dylan Charbonneau was right. You guys are a perfect match.” When she pulled away, she saw Lane gave her a doubtful look, and she asked in surprise, “You don’t believe it’s true?”

“I’d l-like to, but…I’m n-nervous. We’re going to s-spend even m-more time together now. W-what if he starts getting bored?”

Farica rolled her eyes. It still amazed her that Lane was totally clueless about what a babe she was. But then again, her friend always had her head down. It could be why she wasn’t aware of how men looked at her – or even how ugly her clothes were for that matter.

“I think it’s
impossible
he’d get bored with you. Like, think about it this way. Do you think being with him 24/7 would make you bored in his company?”

Lane shook her head.

“Then it’s the same for him because—” Farica winked. “You’re the perfect match.”

Lane rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling a bit either. Ever since she had told Farica about how Dylan Charbonneau had described her, the other girl had used the words like they were a solution to her every concern about Angelo.
 

Farica patted her friend’s hand. “There’s no use worrying about the unknown. Just concentrate on the preparations. Tonight’s the night!” She mentally crossed her fingers as she spoke. What Lane was planning was impossible for her to contemplate—

But then, she wasn’t Angelo Valencia’s match.
 

Lane was, and that might be why tonight would work.

Chapter Seventeen

Faces were plastered on every window on all sixty floors of Valencia Tower, all of them employees who had chosen
not
to clock out even though it was already two hours past the end of their shift. Who cared about going home early when there was the possibility that—

Everyone started shrieking the moment they saw the limousine rolling down the driveway. The employees held their breaths as a chauffeur came down to open the door—

AAAAAAH!

It really was Dylan Charbonneau of Minuit Rouge!

And oh, wait, who was that coming out behind him? Was that his fiancée Bree, a close friend of Saffi March-Aehrenthal,
the
wife of Sweden’s #1 Sex God, Staffan Aehrenthal?

Everyone inched their faces as close to the windowpanes as possible, but it was only those on the first five floors who were able to glimpse the tender way in which the rockstar helped the girl out of the limousine before placing a possessive hand on the small of her back.

This time, the women swooned and sighed, loud enough for those on the upper floors to hear them, and they sighed as well, none of them having any difficulties imagining what it would feel like to have a man like Dylan in their lives.

As Bree and Dylan stepped inside the elevators, she smiled at him, saying with good-natured humor, “A few years ago, this scene would have made me very paranoid.”
 

He kissed the top of her head, murmuring, “And we both know that was my fault.” He tipped her chin up, and his eyes danced with wicked mirth as he asked, “Do you want me to prove to you right now how much I want you?”

Bree’s face flamed. “No!” And thankfully, the elevator doors slid open then, allowing her to escape her fiancé. If she wasn’t careful, he might just convince her to do something outrageous again.

And hot. And—

Oh Lord, what was she thinking?

She quickened her steps, but Dylan’s long-legged stride enabled him to easily catch up with her. Laughing, he curled an arm around her waist and pulled her indecently close to him.
 

“Dylan, we’re in an office,” she protested weakly, and her attempt to put some distance between them was paltry as well. She loved being close to him, but couldn’t they do it where there weren’t, well, hundreds of gazes trained at them?

Unfortunately, being the center of people’s attention was something rockstars were used to. Seemingly unaware of the way everyone they walked past was gawking at them, Dylan halted mid-stride, bent his head, and stole a kiss from Bree.

When he raised his head, he was deeply satisfied at the look in her eyes.

Good.
He liked her looking like that every time they were in a new place. It was an effective way to warn men off his property.

“Now, we can go.” Releasing her waist, he took her hand and led her past an inner set of doors on the penthouse floor, which housed the various rooms of the executives making up Angelo Valencia’s board.
 

The conference room was directly across them, its glass walls revealing Lane seated, hands primly clasped on her lap, a look of torment on her face.

“Are you sure they’re in good terms?” Bree asked uneasily.

Beside Lane was Angelo Valencia, dressed in an immaculate cerulean suit that had been matched with a silver tie. He was every inch the powerful CEO, but it was the look of sinister pleasure on his face that gave Dylan pause.

That…and the fact that the Italian was currently involved in an activity so crass Dylan couldn’t reconcile it with what he knew of his friend. Why did the man have towers of cash in front of him?
 

“Dylan?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Beats me, babe.” Tightening his hold on her hand, he pushed the doors open and together they stepped inside.
 

Lane’s head lifted just as Dylan drawled, “Did we have the misfortune to interrupt another roleplay—”

Lane squeaked in embarrassment.

But Angelo only smiled. “She wishes.” Setting the bills aside, he stood up and walked closer to greet the newcomers. “I’d shake hands with you, but unfortunately my hands are…” A self-deprecating shrug. “Because I’m filthy rich.”

Behind him, Lane moaned.

Angelo’s smile widened.

Ah.
Dylan glanced at his fiancée, who still appeared lost. “He’s probably punishing her, babe.”
 

“Oh.” But she still didn’t get it.

“She’s afraid of rich people, rich places, anything that has to do with wealth, really,” Dylan explained. Pulling her forward, he introduced her to Lane, who had hastily come to her feet.

Stay calm, stay calm, you and Dylan planned this. Don’t let your stupid phobia ruin it.

She took a deep breath and pasted a bright smile on her face. “Hi.” She shook hands with the pretty brunette, who was clasped possessively to the rockstar’s side. “Dylan told me so much about you.” She felt inordinately proud for not stammering, and behind the couple, she saw Angelo smile at her.
Good girl.

Oh my gosh, why did she always feel like wagging her tail when he was proud of her?

“Dylan’s told me about you, too,” Bree was sharing. She wrinkled her nose at Dylan, adding, “But he forgot to tell me you had, umm, a phobia.” She hesitated, wondering if she counted in that category.

Dylan chuckled at the look on Bree’s face. “Yes, babe, you unfortunately qualify. I think the minimum requirements of her phobia are…say, one million dollars in personal fortune?” He slanted a brow at Angelo.

The Italian tycoon nodded. “Just about that. I’ve been trying to convince her to raise her standards—”

Bree and the two men were doing their best to fight their grins off at Lane’s growing discomfort, but when Lane let out a squeak of dismay at Angelo’s words, everyone laughed.

“It’s not funny,” she protested, but their hilarity was infectious that a smile started to tug her lips. But as Angelo drew her back to her seat, she saw the mountain of cash in front of them – oh gosh, how much was it again – and her smile started to fade.

Dylan and Bree took the seats opposite her. Angelo reclaimed his seat…and reached for the uncounted bills again.

Lane winced. They were continuing with the punishment then.

“Can I ask what she’s being punished for?” Bree asked, who was half feeling sorry for the other girl…while her other half was threatening to burst into laughter again. The scene was just too cute, with Lane cringing like Angelo counting his money was the most evil thing ever done.

“She forgot…” Angelo paused.
 

Lane’s stomach dropped at the look Angelo slanted towards her.
You do the honors, my Lane,
those silvery eyes told her.

Sadist,
she thought.

Angelo raised a brow.

Oh gosh.
Knowing she would only be punished later on, she mumbled, “It’s because I forgot to…” She stopped, unable to get the words out. It was just so embarrassing. She looked pleadingly at Angelo.

But he only leaned back on his chair, as if enjoying a show.

Sadist,
she thought again. It was just too bad that she loved him all the more for it.

Lowering her gaze to her lap, she forced the words out. “I forgot to k-kiss him hi when I g-got here.”