LOVE AND HATE (A Billionaire Romance) (18 page)

“It’s cold in here,” I murmured. “Come out to the hot tub with me.”

She stood up and pulled the sweatshirt off. Her breasts bounced free. I could watch them for hours, especially on the rare occasions when she didn’t wear a bra. She pulled her pants off, revealing plain cotton underwear. After so many days of seeing her with none—which was equally hot—these made me want her three times as much. She moved to take them off.

“Stop.” I got off the bed and moved to kneel before her on the plush carpet. I drank in her pleasant, clean smell. I truly loved pleasuring my wife. I gestured at the yacht around us. “Maybe I’ll get one of these.”

“I still can’t believe that’s, like, an option. You could just, what, go to the yacht store and pick one up?”

I laughed. “Something like that. They don’t have them sitting around like cars to buy. You have to have one made special.”

“You must be able to get a used one somewhere.”

I stood up and opened my mouth to argue that it wouldn’t be the same. I wouldn’t have everything built to my specifications. What if the yacht wasn’t laid out quite the way I wanted? But she was right. There were used yachts, and they were significantly cheaper. It didn’t matter, not really, but it would probably be a better investment. I draped my arms around her shoulders instead.

“I could put a drawing studio at the front of the ship,” she said. “A drafting table looking out over our path, giving me a view of where we are going.”

This surprised me. “I didn’t think you drew. You said you don’t have an artistic bone in your body.”

I’d seen Giuliana make Mackenzie blush. I’d made her blush myself on more than one occasion. But I’d never seen the deep tomato color on her cheeks like this. She stammered, mumbled, and tried to backtrack.

“It’s okay. It’s really cool. I don’t want you feeling like you have to hide something like that from me.”

“I’m not very good,” she tried.

“I don’t believe you.”

She laughed. “You should. You know how many people, younger than me, are trying to draw comics?”

“Comics?” This was a whole side of her I hadn’t seen before. I felt like a kid at Christmas unwrapping a present.

For whatever reason, she couldn’t look me in the eye. “I decided to stay with you—in the beginning—because I thought if all my debt was paid off, I might actually have a shot at being a comic artist. I’ve been working on an idea to pitch to them. I mean, it kinda sucks because I’m not a writer, I’m just an artist, but I think I might be commercially viable.”

“As someone who’s legitimately not creative, the process fascinates me. So for you it’s less about the story and more about the art?”

“In real, mainstream comics, the artists get very little say in story stuff. For most of them, it’s just ‘here, illustrate these panels.’ There’s some collaboration, but not a whole lot. It’s more flexible with the indy comics, but there’s no money there.”

I laughed. Money again. When would she learn that for her, money was no longer an issue? Would never be again. I pulled her close and kissed her, but she squirmed uncomfortably.

“When do I get to see some of your work?”

She let out a bark of a laugh and did a typical Mackenzie move, sitting down and curling in on herself, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. We sat in silence for a moment.

“It’s really okay if I quit my job when we get home?”

I thought about everything she’d told me about her boss. “It’s better than okay. Your boss sounds awful.”

She grudgingly nodded. “He is. You’re sure you can protect me if he tries to send the police after me?”

“I can’t imagine what kind of case he’d have against you, but whatever they think they have, my lawyers can handle it.” I’d seen them weasel their clients out of some pretty precarious scrapes. This one, at least, they’d be on the morally right side, which wasn’t always the case.

I kissed the side of her head. We went to meet the tender, back after depositing Isaac Cornell on shore. Percy would have a hell of a time with Anne and Giuliana. Have fun, kids.

Mackenzie

We got back to New York a week later, and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed and refreshed. We stepped off Scott’s plane into the spring day. His apartment would look different to me now, I knew. Our apartment. I’d move out of the guest room and into his master suite. I couldn’t wait to see the apartment again, knowing it was my home. I couldn’t believe the changes since I’d left. How could I be so lucky?

There was one thought that I had been firmly pushing away from my mind—I had to quit my job. Scott had offered to come with me, and I desperately wanted to take him up on it. He offered to have his lawyer send a letter, but I told him no. I’d deal with Mr. Fallon myself.

Scott unlocked the door, and the afternoon sun drenched the apartment in subtle, warm light. It didn’t look sterile and cold like I remembered; it looked like a place I could call home. We’d talked about making the third bedroom into a studio for me. For now, though, he’d put a desk in his office, giving me my own little space there. We also talked about me taking some drawing and graphic design classes.

All my debt was gone. He hadn’t even blinked, just transferred money into my account; I made the payments, and all my balances read zero. All the cards were paid off, and the collection agencies satiated. I was completely debt-free. I had asked him if he was sure about a million times.

“Do you want me to show you my balance sheets? This is going to sound crude, but the amount is basically the equivalent of me buying you a really nice dinner. I want to do this for you. It’s not going to hurt me, and the longer we hold your debt, the more interest we’re going to pay. How can you be creative when you’re stressing about money?”

So I decided to sublet my apartment, got rid of all my payments, and let Scott buy me a new Mercedes, paid for in full. I’d never felt so free in my life. I wanted to tell someone but didn’t feel it was right. So I kept my happiness to myself, and for the first time in a long time I was not kicking myself over the money I’d spent on my almost-wedding.

The next day—Monday—I drove my new Mercedes to my office. Scott asked me, again, if I wanted him to come with me, and each time I’d told him no. “I know where to find you. I’ll call if I need you.” I was determined not to call. This was for me to do on my own.

I walked into the hushed ambience with everyone watching as I crossed the floor to Mr. Fallon’s corner office. I was tanned and thinner, and the outfit I wore cost about six months’ salary at my soon-to-be previous job. My head high, I walked through with all the confidence I could muster. My time in the sun had bleached highlights into my hair, the kind I didn’t usually get until August because I was stuck in this dump of an office.

I didn’t knock. I saw myself into Mr. Fallon’s office, breezing past Stephanie, his admin assistant. She gawked at me, but Mr. Fallon waved her off. He actually stood up and came around his desk to me. The blinds were drawn in his windows, giving the room a cave-like feel. The room had a faint old-pastrami smell, too, probably something rotting in the trash.

“I read in the Wall Street Journal that the merger went through. What the hell were you doing out there?”

“I quit.”

He laughed in my face, and I felt his spit spray me. Ugh. “You can’t quit. I own you, Taylor.”

“Scott’s lawyers think otherwise.”

“You’re kidding me. You think you’re staying with him? What, you think you’re in love?”

I didn’t let his words bother me. I knew we were in love. “It’s working out well for Mr. Creed, and he’s made the arrangement worth my while.” I thought of lying underneath him as he pleasured me, of the way his face contorted as he came. Of holding his hand in the tropical sun on a remote beach.

“You’re a whore.”

“And you wonder why I quit.” I said the words Scott had suggested as I passed a business card to him. “I have nothing more to say to you. Anything else can be taken up with Mr. Creed’s lawyers.”

I saw him pale as he looked at the card, but he didn’t want me to notice. He covered it up with bluster. “You had a good thing going, Taylor. Nice fiancé, nice house, nice job, nice life. What the hell did you do to screw it all up?”

I thought about Lucas and shoved the thoughts away. I couldn’t think of him now. I wouldn’t. He was nothing to me. Dead to me, or as good as dead.

“Like I said, take it up with Mr. Creed’s lawyers. Did you need anything else from me?”

“Taylor, there’s protocol to be followed.”

“Do you really want me doing an HR interview?”

“Get the hell out of here. I’m paging security to take you to your desk and see you out.”

I laughed, but I don’t think I quite have the spit spatter down like that of Mr. Fallon.

Security was a chubby guy named Chris McCullough who I’d always been nice to and, as a result, had always been kind to me. Today was no exception. He started when he saw who he’d be escorting out, but held his tongue until we were out of Mr. Fallon’s office.

“Kenz, what’s going on? You look great… Where have you been?”

I held out my hand, showing off my wedding ring. “I got married!”

Chris looked dubious. “I thought you left Lucas.”

“Not him. I met someone else. Really fast, I know.”

“Fallon is an asshole, but you’re sure this is a good idea? You’re sure this guy is cool with you just, like, quitting your job?”

We whispered together like conspirators as I shoved everything from my desk into a cardboard box. I found my engagement photos with Lucas in a silver-gilded frame that I had shoved hastily into a drawer the day of our breakup. We’d had them taken in a corner of Central Park. The first photo was us from behind, his arm wrapped around me, gazing out at a duck pond and the skyline. The second photo showed him smiling at the camera and me adoring him. The posing of the photo spoke volumes. I tossed them in the trash and heard the glass crack in the frame. Good.

On the way out, with Chris at my elbow and trying to keep the smirk off my face, I tried to catch Susie’s eye. She had headphones on and seemed engrossed in her work. I’d text her later.

Chris swept me up in a big bear hug in the parking lot. “Take care of yourself, Kenz. I hope this new guy treats you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“He will.” I was so sure of myself.

While I was still in the neighborhood, I decided to swing by my favorite Starbucks one final time. Keenan, the best barista in town, stood behind the counter in front of a long line of patrons. There was another Starbucks a few blocks away, but everyone came here for Keenan. He saw me and beamed, raising his hand in greeting, though not breaking stride with the customer he was helping.

I pulled out my phone while I waited and shot Scott a text, telling him the deed was done. I’d quit.

How’d it go?

Honestly, better than I’d thought. Tell you all about it when I get home.
The idea of home, our home, warmed me.
Getting coffee now, want anything?

Scott said he was good, and I slipped the phone into my purse.

“Mackenzie?”

I didn’t have to look up to know who spoke. My blood ran cold, and I wanted to bolt, no longer caring if I got an iced caramel macchiato. Lucas stood off to the side, holding a hot cup and a bag. I knew without a doubt he held a skinny double latte and a blueberry muffin. I hadn’t seen him for about three weeks, which simultaneously felt like no time and forever. I wanted to run. I wanted to melt into the floor. I wanted to take one of the chairs and bash him over the head with it.

“Hey.” It was the only thing I could think to say.

“You look great. Do you have a tan?”

Jesus, Lucas, do you have to sound so surprised?
I tried to subtly scrutinize him to see if he seemed remarkably more physically fit than the last time I’d seen him. No bulging muscles that I could see.

“Yeah. I’ve been on vacation.”

Lucas, intimately aware of the financial shit show he’d left me with, looked dubious. “Good for you.”

Anger bubbled up in me. The line moved, and I stepped to the counter. I gave my order, fumbling and tripping over my words.

“Are you okay?” Keenan looked concerned. Great.

I willed Lucas to walk away, to go back to Monica, to get as far away from me as possible. “I’m okay. It’s been kind of a crazy morning.”

“You let me know if you need anything,” he smiled. “I mean, other than an iced caramel macchiato.”

I gave him a grateful smile and moved to the pick-up area, waiting for them to call my name. Lucas, like a bad penny, stood nearby, watching me.

“How are you?” I knew he didn’t care and was only asking out of morbid curiosity.

“I’m great.” I held my left hand out. “I got married.” He blinked at me, his lips parting with surprise. “I quit my job today, too.”

Now he gaped. He looked at me like I’d gone mad. “Like… to do your drawing thing?”

Rage bubbled inside me. He’d always been so condescending about my love of comics. I bit the anger down. We were in a public place, so I answered with a question. “How are things with you?”