The Bad Boy Billionaire: What a Girl Wants (12 page)

I started heading toward the bar thinking I’d have one more glass of warm chardonnay and then get in the car and have the driver Duke hired take me back to the city. Everyone was looking at me and whispering. It seemed everyone knew what had happened, and were, unbelievably, taking Sam’s side. But then again—he was one of them and I wasn’t. Not anymore. It was time for me to go.

Skipping that last drink, I headed toward the exit but then I was interrupted by a pregnant blonde woman.

“Jane Sparks, is that you?”

After a second I placed her name.

“Allison! I haven’t seen you since seventh period algebra.”

“Don’t remind me,” she said. “How is the writing going? I’ve been reading your books when I’m up late feeding the baby,” she said, rubbing her belly in that way pregnant women did.

“Already?” She only looked a few months along.

“Oh, Dakota who is a year old, and Madison, who is 3.”

“Wow. You must be so busy.” If I had stuck to my life schedule, I’d be pregnant with my second now, and working part time. I could not fathom it. I felt that I was exactly where I needed to be in my life. I also felt that I didn’t belong here anymore.

“Oh, I am. I’m sure it doesn’t compare to your fabulous life in the city,” she said with a laugh. “But I’m happy. We’re happy.” She smiled radiantly. I didn’t doubt her joy for a second nor did I think she was at all jealous of my “fabulous life” in the city. We were right where we were supposed to be.

“Well, I can’t imagine fitting all those kids in an NYC apartment,” I said.

“Are the rents as crazy as they say?” A woman I vaguely recognized from U.S. AP history asked, cutting in. I couldn’t remember her name at all.

“Let’s just say I could have a three-bedroom house here for what my roommate and I pay in Chelsea.”

“I don’t know how you stand it there, Jane. All the noise, and commotion, and rats!” Allison said. “Everything is so expensive. And dangerous.”

“It’s pretty safe,” I said. I couldn’t say that the city wasn’t a huge noisy commotion with rats. It was. I loved it. I was totally, madly, completely in love with the city. Why had I come to this party when I could be with the guy I loved in the city I loved?

“But what about what happened with you and Sam?” Allison asked, lowering her voice.

“What happened with you and Sam?” The woman from U.S. history asked. Was her name Melinda? Melissa?

“Nevermind,” I said at the same time Allison said, “I’ll tell you later.”

“That could have happened anywhere,” I said, though inside my brain was shouting
what does that have to do with anything? Why does everyone know? Can this party get any worse?

The answer to that last question was yes. This party could get even worse. And it did, with the appearance of the sort of tall, gorgeous, mean blonde woman who tended to make everyone else feel so inadequate, otherwise known as Kate Abbott.

“Hey Jane,” Kate said, striking a pose, as she looked me up and down in such a judgy way.

“Hi Kate,” I said, mustering a smile. I stood a little taller in the “totally fierce” black satin heels and “totally hot” little black dress that Roxanna persuaded me to buy at Barney’s, both of which were totally uncomfortable and a little too done up for this crowd. In this moment, the dress and the shoes were totally worth the splurge and discomfort.

Then Kate made a big show of looking to my left, then to my right, and then all around. She was obviously looking for someone.

“Where’s your billionaire boyfriend?” Kate asked, the question oh-so-cutting. “I don’t see him.”

I gave a tense smile. “He’s at his own party tonight, so he couldn’t make it.”

Allison, Kate, Arwen Kilpatrick, Melissa (Or Melinda?) and a few others all pulled faces of disappointment. They clearly were hoping to meet the Bad Boy Billionaire tonight.

I didn’t know if I was madder at Kate for being so provoking, or with Duke for not showing up for me when
we had a deal.
It was for moments exactly like this that I had wanted a hot, successful guy by my side. But the looks and the money didn’t matter now. I wanted my guy who I loved, who loved me back, to hold my hand and say something devastatingly romantic and to show the eternally vexing Kate Abbott that she couldn’t bully me.

“Are you sure he’s not your pretend boyfriend?” Kate, of course, burst into laughter because she was so funny. “I read on the Internet that the whole thing was a sham!”

“If you read it on the Internet, it must be true,” I murmured.

“I was just so surprised when I heard about it,” Kate said. “Little busty bookworm Jane Sparks with the hot billionaire tech guy. You just can’t make this stuff up. Or can you?”

“We were hoping to meet him,” Allison said.

“We all thought you would bring him,” Melissa (Melinda?) said.

“I’ve never met a billionaire before,” another woman added. I recognized her as Kelly Wheaton who had snagged the starring role in
every
school play and musical.

“I wanted to see if The Ashbrooke Effect was real. Is it real, Jane?” Allison asked.

“Or is that something else you made up?” Kate asked.

I kind of sighed, because Kate was starting too fixated on this. Plus, I gathered she hadn’t actually read my books, otherwise she’d know that I named the mean girl of Regency London after her.

I wasn’t the only one finding Kate a bit tedious—Arwen Kilpatrick, a girl I’d been friendly with, rolled her eyes, which made me smile.

“So when is the wedding?” Melissa (Melinda?) asked. “I heard you were engaged.”

“Arwen does weddings now!” Kelly exclaimed. “She’s a big deal wedding planner in New York City. She’ll have to do yours.”

“I’d be happy to!” Arwen replied.

“We’re not engaged, but I’ll definitely keep you in mind if he pops the question,” I said. “You can make my Pinterest board a reality.”

She laughed and said, “I do that all the time.”

“I thought you were engaged. I wanted to see the ring,” Kelly said with a pout.

“We called it off,” I explained. God, why couldn’t he have just showed up for me? I should probably tell Arwen there wouldn’t be a wedding because I was going to murder/maim Duke for not being here right now.

“But now you’re back together,” Melissa (Melinda?) said.

“Yes.”

“But he’s not here. Is it because of what happened with Sam?”

And then I kind of snapped. “You know, there’s more to me than my boyfriends, past, present and possibly future. I write books. I have friends. I have a job. You could tell me what you have been up to since we graduated. Why does it always have to be about men?”

My tangent kept going, but no one was listening. Their attention was fixed on an ever-increasing commotion behind me. The wind picked up, whipping everyone’s hair into a frenzy. I turned: a helicopter was landing on the lawn. It was the churn of its blades that had drowned out my rant.

I soon gave up speaking and gave in to the same pangs of curiosity affecting everyone present.

Who
would arrive at the Milford High School reunion in a helicopter?

Once it touched down on the ground and the blades stopped spinning, the door opened and . . .

Duke stepped down.

I smiled as I heard the voices all around. “It’s him! It’s the Bad Boy Billionaire.”

It’s my guy.

He wore a black Project-TK T-shirt, stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. His well-worn Levi’s were low slung on his hips. His hair was perfectly mussed as always, making me want to run my fingers through it as I pulled his mouth to mine.

He strolled across the lawn like he was Somebody. Everyone melted out of his path. Except for me. I stood there, feeling all heart racing, weak in the knees, dizzy in love. He was
here.
As he had promised. And he had left his big night of triumph for
me,
showing that I was more important to him than his billion dollar business. Heart melting stuff.

“Hey Sweater Set,” Duke said, standing in front of me.

“Hey you. What are you doing here?”

“I promised,” he said simply. Because it was that simple. Then he gave me that grin—like rogues in a romance novel. And, like a romance hero aware that
everyone
was watching, he swept me into a dramatic embrace and dip before he kissed me deeply.

“You look hot. But you’re missing something,” he said. I caught a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Before I could ask what, he placed my cheap but sentimentally priceless cubic zirconia ring in the palm of my hand.

“Where did you find this?”

“I didn’t find it. I stole it,” he confessed, with one of those don’t-hate-me-grins. “I was aided and abetted by Roxanna. Don’t be mad at us.”

“But
why?”

“So I could have this made for you,” Duke said. He dropped down to one knee and held up a ring that was identical to the cubic zirconia one in my hand—except it sparkled a hell of a lot more because this one was
real
.

“Jane, today I achieved everything I ever wanted. But I realized it was meaningless without you by my side. And it wasn’t
everything
any more. You’re my girl. I love you. Will you marry me?”

Of course I said
yes
.

Of course tears stung my eyes as he slid the
real
ring onto my finger and then swept me into a kiss.

Of course I delighted in everyone’s cheers. But they didn’t compare to the fireworks I was feeling.

“Do you want to stay here or head back to the city?” he asked.

“Take me home,” I murmured.

We waved goodbye to everyone and then climbed into the helicopter where Duke had a bottle of chilled champagne and glasses waiting. He popped the cork, poured us two glasses, and we toasted to our future happiness.

“Are you ready?” The pilot asked in a British accent as he turned around to face us.

“Ready,” Duke confirmed. But I was speechless.

“Is that Prince William?” I finally managed to ask in a very low, trying-to-be-cool voice. Because
OMG,
I think that was Prince William.

Duke just shrugged. And grinned. And said, “I called in a favor.”

“Who are you?” I asked incredulously.

“The Bad Boy Billionaire. The love of your life. Your real life romance hero. Your one and only . . .”

“Oh shush,” I said, laughing as I grabbed a fistful of his Project-TK T-shirt and pulled him in for a long, slow, deep kiss that lasted until we were nearly back in the city.

Soon enough the Manhattan skyline, all lit up, came into view. It was a breathtaking sight. And now it was my home. I grabbed Duke’s hand so he could share in this moment with me. But I saw he was focused on something on his phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked. Really, what could be so important online that it couldn’t wait ten minutes? “You’re missing the most amazing view.”

“Just updating my Facebook status,” he said with a mischievous grin. Then he held out his iPhone for me to see:

Duke Austen is engaged to Jane Sparks.

Author’s Note

A
S
I
EMBARKED
on a series of interconnected historical and contemporary romances (the Bad Boy Billionaire books and my Wallflower novels), I was fascinated to discover all the links between the Regency era and our present day (turns out the computer is one of them!). But one unfortunate similarity is sexual violence and the stigma and suffering of its victims.

This story, and its historical counterpart,
What a Wallflower Wants
, were influenced by all-too-frequent accounts of sexual violence against women in the news today. These heartbreaking and enraging stories impelled me to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) to write about girls—Jane and Prudence—who suffer from sexual assaults but find love and acceptance anyway. I also wanted to write about heroes who defy convention but are heroic in all the ways that truly matter.

Regency romance readers know that to be caught in a “compromising position” is to find oneself proceeding immediately to the altar. It’s all quite romantic—unless it isn’t. In parts of the world today, women are still forced to marry their attackers to preserve “honor.” Or, just as horribly, they are murdered by their own families in some twisted notion of “honor.”

The alternative was—and tragically still too often is—to be considered “ruined” and face social ostracization, harassment, slut-shaming, being blamed, or not even being believed. Many keep their assault a secret. Many are driven to suicide. None of this is okay.

Romance novels are an escape, a fantasy, a pleasure. But these novels are also inspiring, empowering, and have the potential to change hearts and minds with portrayals of two individuals finding healing and happiness in love. I wrote this story to perhaps provide hope. And as with every romance novel I have written, I write the change I want to see: relationships based on mutual trust, respect, and love.

Keep reading for a sneak peek at

WHAT A WALLFLOWER WANTS,

the third historical romance novel based on

Jane’s romance with the Bad Boy Billionaire.

An Excerpt from

WHAT A WALLFLOWER WANTS

Miss Prudence Merryweather Payton has escaped a highway robbery and is trudging toward the nearest town, alone and dangerously unchaperoned, when the oh-so-dashing Lord Castleton happens upon her . . .

S
HE CARRIED ON,
walking another mile or two or twenty. It felt like twenty. The thick white clouds had begun to darken considerably. A thick rumble of thunder disturbed the birdsong. A storm. Perfect. While the rain might be cooling, she didn’t fancy trudging along when this dirt road turned to mud.

And then the sweetest sound in the world reached her ears. It was the sound of a carriage approaching. The clip of the horse’s hooves was unmistakable.

“Please let this be a lady and her maid,” Prudence prayed, setting down her valise. “Or a kind family. Or an old dowager.”