LOVE AND HATE (A Billionaire Romance) (14 page)

It was the wrong thing to say. Like I could ever pity him for losing millions against his billions. I stalked to the edge of the balcony and looked out over the sea. Little did he know I’d be fired unless I worked this relationship so he lost all that money.

Scott

I tried to take deep breaths. We were tired. It had been a crazy day. Mackenzie woke up thinking she was going to putter around Long Island Sound and the eastern seaboard, but now she was in a totally different country. The Halls were obnoxious, Giuliana was menacing and maybe a little evil. Our situation was totally miserable. I got it. That said, I couldn’t just stand here while she attacked me.

“Boohoo, Scott. I’m so sorry I’m wrecking your millions. I think you’ve got some to spare.”

“I’m not having this conversation.” I stood up and headed for the suite, sad to leave the tropical night behind.

She blocked my way. “No, we need to have this out. I’m not going to let this hang.” Hands on her hips, she was sexy as hell. The light from inside the suite caught the thin material of her t-shirt and outlined the silhouette of her body enticingly, but I was too pissed to be turned on.

“I’m going to get really angry if we continue this conversation,” I threatened.

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

I saw red. I balled my fists—not that I was worried about hitting her. I have never and will never hit anyone out of anger unless he hits me first. My mother raised me better than that. “You are, without a doubt, the most selfish, money-grubbing whore I’ve ever met. You’re milking this from both ends and getting a sweet deal most women only dream of. Those two suitcases today? About fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of new clothes. Your fucking passport? Three grand.”

I have enough self-awareness to know flinging numbers at her was super shitty. I haven’t always been rich. I remembered my parents stressing about cash. I didn’t mind doing those things for her for two reasons. One, investing a few grand in her to make me a hundred million was nothing. And two… against my better goddamn judgement, I liked her. I wanted her to be happy, wanted her to wear pretty things and see exciting places.

“You act like none of the chemistry between us means anything, and you’re just put out and wounded. I know you got a raise at your sleazy job. Once I pay off all your debt, you’ll be living well. I’m sorry I brought you to Mexico in my private plane. I’m so sorry I took you to dinner tonight at the finest restaurant in Cancun. You certainly seemed to like me then.”

“It’s all material shit, Scott. I can’t be purchased.”

I wondered if she knew the dress she wore earlier cost over a thousand dollars. The shoes, probably only six hundred. They were just flip-flops, after all.

“Babe, you’ve already been bought. I don’t care how high and mighty you pretend to be, but until you walk out that door and turn your back on this, you’re bought.”

Her whole body stiffened. I could see the rage wheels turning. The light behind her meant I couldn’t see her face, but I knew her eyes flashed with anger. I should have stopped, but I didn’t. “It’s driving you crazy because you’re serving two masters right now. You need to sit down, shut up, put a smile on your pretty face, and suck it up until this is over.”

“Get out,” she said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Get out. I don’t want to see you, don’t want to be around you. I’m sure you can find Giuliana, and she’ll be thrilled to see you. I bet you could get her off two or three times before Isaac Cornell looked up from his phone.”

Man, she said mean things when she was angry. I ran a simple cost-benefit analysis of what I stood to lose by telling her Giuliana couldn’t get off. Not by me, and according to her, not by anyone. Didn’t seem like a good idea, and for the first time that night, I held my tongue. “You know what? Fine. Goodnight, Mackenzie. I hope you sleep well.” My tone of voice did not suggest I was being genuine. I had to push past her to get to the door and could feel her trembling. Rage? Cold? I didn’t care.

I picked up my cell phone and wallet from the table and left the suite. I heard her throw the deadbolt behind me. Out in the hall, out of the sight of the peephole, I froze. Now what the hell was I going to do? I’d been clenching my fists so hard my knuckles were white. I forced them to unfurl and took a deep breath.

I can’t lie. I wondered what Giuliana would do if I knocked on her door. I had a brief impression of the picture Mackenzie painted: me fucking her, her ankles by my ears the way she liked, while Isaac Cornell sat in the other room engrossed in his cell phone.

No. I’d been a player for a long time, but I wasn’t a cheat. I’d get no satisfaction out of going to Giuliana, particularly not when I compared her to what I shared with Mackenzie.

I chose to go to the downstairs bar, the one that wasn’t on the beach but looked out over sharp, jagged rocks. The other bar was the popular one, so only two other folks sat in the room with me, all giving off vibes of wanting to be alone. I bought a beer and nursed it, more to have something in my hands than to get drunk. I missed smoking at times like these.

This resort catered to the wealthy. The very, very wealthy. The three of us, miserable and alone, proved pretty definitively that money didn’t buy happiness.

Waves crashed against the shore with a rhythmic procession, and I lost myself in the sound. I thought about the merger. Was it worth it to kiss Hall’s ass? Why the hell had he invited Giuliana? It was a strategic move, clearly, to drive a wedge between Mackenzie and me. Was being here even worth it?

I thought again about Serena. About our parents. I didn’t have a choice, not really. They were relying on me to keep us securely tucked in our tax bracket. I imagined trying to explain that to Mackenzie and knew I couldn’t articulate why I needed the money without sounding unbelievably greedy. I thought about her father. The feed store. Four brothers and sisters. The six of them probably lived for a year on what Serena spent daily.

Two girls pushed through the doors, obviously drunk and clearly missing the vibe of the room. They scanned the patrons. There was an older woman parked at the bar, sipping her drink and wearing a ten-thousand-dollar dress. I’d caught her dabbing at her eyes a few times. A heavy man sat in a corner booth, nose buried in his smart phone. Beads of sweat decorated his brow, and I imagined him teetering on the edge of a heart attack, bankruptcy, or both.

The two girls—I should call them young women, really—wore see-through trendy coverups over minuscule bikinis. They both had perfect brunette ponytails halfway down their backs and immaculate makeup. Their fingernails were manicured flawlessly into colorful claws.

Scott Creed three weeks ago would have had both of them in a hot tub in twenty minutes, max. They were on the prowl, I could tell. But tonight? The crashing waves did a better job of keeping my interest. The girls ordered drinks at the bar, and one of them approached me. Her bikini was red, and the cover up was white mesh, long sleeved and shorter than a mini skirt.

“You look so sad,” she purred, dropping into the chair next to me. She smelled like money: the best perfume, the best hairspray. She was beautiful, and I noticed with some appreciation that her breasts were small and real. Good for her to rock what God gave her.

I thought about Mackenzie’s breasts. Full and very real. They had been shaped just for me, just for my hands. I thought about the way she arched her back and pressed against me when I fondled them.

“You know, I am sad.”

“Oh no! What happened? I’m Jezebel.”

“Jezebel? Really?”

She giggled. “No. Not really. My parents named me Sarah, but I’d rather be a Jezebel, you know?”
Sure. Whatever you need, Jez.
“So why so sad?”

“I think I screwed things up with my wife.” I looked her in the eye as I said it, straightening my posture. She didn’t back off, but examining her, I realized I might have underestimated her. Her brown eyes were smart.

“Aw, geez, what did you do?”

“She lied to me. I lied to her.” Sarah looked like she had money. She’d get where I was coming from. “But I have a lot more money than she does. A whole lot. She feels trapped. Like she can’t leave if she wants to.”

Sarah puffed out her breath, leaned back in her chair, and put her feet up on the railing. The wrap clung to her sculpted body, and the night breeze gave her goosebumps, which she ignored. “You want advice?”

“I’ll take some if you have it.”

“This is the oldest one in the book. If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, you know it’s the real deal. It’s dumb, it’s a cliché, it’s on keychains, but it’s true. Get the money out of the equation. See what she does.”

With the money out of the equation, I thought with a sad sigh, Mackenzie Taylor would be gone, leaving twin puffs of road dust in her wake like a Loony Tunes cartoon.

“Thanks, Sarah,” I said.

The ditz trying-to-score persona returned, and she straightened in her chair. “It’s Jezebel.”

“Sarah’s prettier. Good luck tonight. I’d try the bar upstairs by the beach.”

“You know, I was there and didn’t find anyone interesting to talk to. I hoped I’d have some better luck down here.” She turned her attention to the waves and gulped her drink. “I never thought this would be so lonely.”

“No kidding,” I sympathized.

Sarah’s friend pulled her away, and they left, hunting for better prey. If I’d acted like my old self or like Ryan always did and taken both of them back to their room, I would never have had a conversation half as real as the one I’d just had with Sarah. I watched their tight asses as they left, but it was more appreciation for an art form rather than any expectations.

The bar kicked me out at two, and I walked down to the beach. I found a deck chair left out, claimed it, and watched the stars as the resort shut down around me.

Mackenzie

When he left I knew I wouldn’t sleep. I flopped down on the king sized bed, getting mascara and sparkly eye shadow all over the white comforter as I cried. To my surprise, the exhaustion of the day and the fight put me to sleep in moments.

I woke up to someone at the door, the light still on overhead, and daylight streaming in through the windows. I took a moment to figure out where I was and what time it was. The light was slanted at a sharp angle, so it had to be early. After a few beats, I remembered the fight. Scott was at the door, wanting to leave promptly for the yacht so we’d be there by eight. We’d spend the day pretending nothing ever happened. I rubbed my eyes, aware I looked a fright, and let him in.

Bags under his eyes, his clothes rumpled and a little sandy, he didn’t look like he’d slept. He ran his gaze over me. He often drank me in with his eyes, and, alternately, I felt like the most beautiful woman alive or like chattel. Today, unfortunately, it was the latter. I folded my arms over my chest, and, aware of what he’d been doing, he looked away.

“I’m going to make some coffee. You want some?”

“You’re not just going to call room service to do it for you?” The words snuck out before I could stop them. I was on a roll already, and it was… Jesus, a little before six. My head still hurt from all the crying.

Scott ignored me and strode to the French press in the kitchen. He returned to the living room where I’d left the sliding glass doors open all night, just the screens closed, and the curtains waved and bowed with a fresh ocean breeze. I was angry at the day for being so beautiful.

“Sit,” he ordered.

“I’m fine,” I replied and remained standing. The cool breeze made me cold, and I crossed my arms over my alert nipples.

“You’re not going to find anything on me for your boss. I’m clean. The whole business is clean, and to be honest, even if it wasn’t, the fraud wouldn’t be anywhere you could find it. So from that perspective, you’re wasting your time here. We’ve been at this for over a week; I’m happy to pay you for your time, $30k, and call it a day. I can put you on a commercial flight back to New York this morning.”

Huh. I guess I should have sat down. Thirty thousand dollars would help, for sure. The payment would cover about half the cost of my aborted wedding and let me focus on my student loans. The collections agencies would back off, and I’d have room to breathe. I thought of Mr. Fallon. If I left, would the merger fail? If I lost my job, $30k would be next to nothing. I let my breath out in a long exhalation.

“Is that what you want? Won’t your deal fail?”

“Maybe. I’ll have however long on his boat to try and convince him I’m a great businessman no matter how I live my personal life.” Scott drooped back in his chair and watched some gulls swooping over the water. “It’s not worth it to me to make you miserable. This isn’t your life. This isn’t your scene, especially if you don’t want to be here.”

“I never said I didn’t want to be here.”

He laughed humorlessly. “You don’t have to say it.” He stood and stretched. “Anyway, think it over. I’m going to hop in the shower.”

I stood by the door and listened as he poured a cup of coffee and took it into one of the two bathrooms. I heard the shower turn on. My feet had grown roots and fused with the plush carpet.

I could go. I should go. There was nothing for me here. My brain argued:
Nothing but a chance at being debt-free and a tropical vacation with some of the richest people in the world. And some amazing sex
. I felt shallow, but I would be lying if I didn’t factor the sex into the equation.