The Billionaire Shifter's Curvy Match (Billionaire Shifters Club #1) (8 page)

“Don’t worry about them. I’m a member. Making me happy is job one.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her toward his table. She was bigger than him, but he had the wiry strength of a man who spent hours with elite personal trainers, and she stumbled against his side. “Careful. Looks like I’m not the only one enjoying the drinks tonight.”

Before Lilah could accidentally-on-purpose drive her stiletto into the creep’s instep, Carl appeared with a plate from the restaurant. They didn’t serve filet mignon and endive salad at the bar, but you could ask for anything to be brought to you.

Almost anything.

“Mr. Webb, your steak is ready.” Carl maneuvered the creep to the table, did something with his feet, and suddenly the guy was slumped in his chair. “Sorry for the delay.”

Frowning, Mr. Webb looked around in confusion. Carl got between him and Lilah and unfurled a white napkin. “Shall I send for freshly ground black pepper?” Carl asked.

“I didn’t order anything.” Licking his lips, Mr. Webb stared at his plate. “Did I?”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll send it back.” Carl reached forward to remove it.

Mr. Webb grabbed the platter with both hands. “Oh, that’s right. Of course. Took you long enough.”

Carl waved his hand behind his back, telling Lilah to take off. “As I said. We’re terribly sorry for the delay.”

She was already making her escape, stifling another laugh.

Carl was awesome. She was so lucky to be working with him. Even when the job was a challenge, it was fun.

Even without Gavin, she was going to be happy.

She was.

* * *

“
Y
ou are
a complete and utter fool, Gavin. I never would have expected it,” Derry announced as he walked into Gavin’s quarters at the Stanton estate. A month had passed since they’d seen each other at the club.

The club.

Lilah. He couldn’t escape her, could he? Three weeks now since they’d had their encounter. Three weeks of sheer agony, craving her every single minute. Fleeing west hadn’t helped. Secure at his desk, managing business affairs and making executive decisions, he’d thought coming home to the family compound would give him some space. Distance. Relief. There’s no place like home.

And there was no place quite like the Stanton compound.

Between the London money, the Colorado gold rush, mineral rights, and a land grab that rivaled the Louisiana Purchase, the Stanton family now owned about one tenth of all the private land in the western United States.

Except no one knew it.

And Asher intended to keep it that way.

The sprawling main house on the ranch was about as ranch-like as a palace in London. Tobias Stanton and his first wife, Cordelia, had produced two boys. His second wife, Alicia, had given him twins, a boy and a girl. Wife number three had been Gertrude, who had produced yet another son.

Spread apart in years, the Stanton children shared a father who bound them as tightly as full siblings ever could be. Tobias’s father before him had sired exactly one child: Tobias. With no cousins to compete, this meant that Asher, Gavin, Derry, Sophia, and Edward shared equally in the ranch’s holdings and earnings. Asher and Edward lived at the ranch full time, while the other three Stantons split their time between Boston and Montana.

The main house was the center of a complex system on the land, much like the sun at the center of a solar system. Gavin had his own home, a five-minute walk from the main house, a simple five-bedroom, solar-powered home that was built into a berm and hidden from the bustle of the ranch’s activity by a verdant cluster of trees and brush.

A natural mineral spring burbled in his backyard, overshadowed by a rock formation that provided ultimate privacy. He’d had a courtyard designed for the rare moments when he had the luxury of leisure time.

He wondered what Lilah would think of his little haven.

What would Lilah look like, naked, swimming in the steamy waters, peering up at him with those doe eyes?

Oh God.

“Lilah,” Derry said, waving a thick, meaty palm in Gavin’s face.

Startled, Gavin narrowed his eyes, careful not to move a single muscle again. “Now you can read my mind?”

Derry’s dark eyebrow rose. “I don’t need to read your thoughts, Gavin. They’re written all over your face. And if you stood, I could read them through your trousers.”

“Don’t be vulgar.”

“Then don’t be coy.”

Gavin laughed, then cleared his throat. “
Gavin
and
coy
do not belong in the same sentence.”

“And
Lilah
and
not here
don’t either. Are you out of your fucking mind, leaving her alone like that?”

“You met her?” Gavin asked, hands curling on the edge of the antique oak partner’s desk. The wide slab of polished tree gave him a good eight feet of distance between him and his younger brother.

“I did. She served me.”

Gavin gave him a hard look.

“Said she couldn’t bear to leave me.”

Gavin growled, nostrils flaring. He didn’t begin to shift. Not one bit. The legend was true then. Mating with Lilah had taken that instability away.

Or, perhaps, the silly legend was just that—silly. He simply had a blip in his body and experienced a strange period of loss of control.

He liked that explanation better.

“You stay away from her,” Gavin warned in a low voice.

Derry reached over and picked up a small paperweight on Gavin’s desk. A piece of amber with a feather perfectly preserved in it. As a small child he’d been drawn to it and had kept it for all these decades.

“Her eyes are darker than this amber, but when she smiles it’s as if they lighten,” Derry said, contemplative.

Gavin’s skin prickled. The idea that Derry had paid enough attention to notice that filled Gavin’s veins with rage.

“I mean it, Derry. This is not up for discussion. She’s off-limits to you.”
To everyone
.

“Is she really the One, Gavin?” Derry set the piece of amber down, his own eyes snapping up to catch Gavin’s. They looked at each other for a few steely seconds. “Because if I ever meet mine, I won’t hop on a plane the next day and fly two thousand miles away to leave her in the company of men who flock to her like moths to a flame.”

Gavin’s breathing quickened, his hands clutching the edge of the desk so hard he was certain he would find marks in the wood where his fingers pressed in.

“You’re doing your best to fuck every woman in the world in an effort to meet your One, Derry,” Gavin replied, willing his voice to remain even. “Leave mine alone.”

Derry held up his hands, palms up. “Oh, I will. You don’t need to worry, Gavin. I can look, but I won’t touch.”

Gavin’s grip lessened slightly.

“But I can’t say the same for the hundreds of men who are in Lilah’s luscious company each night at the club.”

A popping sound made them both flinch and look at Gavin’s hand. A small crack appeared in the glass that covered the desk.

Derry let out a snort of amusement.

“As I said when I came in, Gavin. You’re a complete and utter fool.”

“For coming here to do business as usual?” Gavin’s answer was weak, but it was all he could manage as he extracted his finger, a sliver of glass cutting a tiny line in the skin along the knuckle. Red bloomed, filling in the cut.

Derry gave him a perplexed look, his features more genuine. Blue eyes that mirrored Gavin’s seemed sympathetic for a moment.

“For thinking that any part of your life is business as usual now.”

And with that, Derry left Gavin to his broken desk and his fractured life.

“
E
TA to Logan is 6
:21 p.m., sir,” Gavin’s pilot announced over the intercom. Twenty minutes. Gavin itched to go for a run, to shift and explore in the night, to have the freedom to reach a state of mental oblivion that untied him from feeling so out of control.

More than anything, though, he itched to touch her.

As much as he was loathe to admit it, Derry was right. How stupid had he been, thinking that by giving her the space she asked for he could—what? Go back to life before meeting her? Help her to maintain some sense of normal? There is no going back when you cross a line that changes you.

Gavin and Lilah could avoid each other, but only to delay the inevitable.

And the inevitable was simple:

She’s mine.

The plane landed so smoothly it was like gliding into butter. Roger and his family had been piloting Stantons around the globe for seven decades now in various private aircraft, maintaining a mastery over new technology and keeping the family safe and, most important—on time. Gavin checked his watch as the plane taxied in to the gate.

6:21 p.m. exactly.

Ten minutes later, Manny greeted him with his limousine and a neutral expression.

“Welcome back to Boston, Mr. Stanton. Business or pleasure?” Gavin thought he saw Manny’s nose twitch with amusement.

“Both.”

“Of course.” Gavin climbed into the limo, and within half an hour he was at his penthouse, drink in hand. No Asher hiding in the shadows this time.

And no Lilah in his arms.

Yet.

Gavin was a planner. He needed time to think. Needed to mastermind. Needed to strategize and create the optimal—

Oh, fuck it.

He needed
her
.

Out the door in seconds, he found Manny at the limo, ready as always. Gavin climbed in and before he could say the words, Manny asked, “The Platinum Club?”

Gavin sighed.

Was it really that obvious?

By the time they pulled up to the skyscraper that housed the club, Gavin had a plan. He would ask her out for dinner. Some place very private and very good. Lilah deserved the best.

She was scared. She was wary. And she was searching for the same connection he was, and knew full well that this was destiny. Fate. They could not escape whatever this was.

A conventional date would help to normalize him.

He strode into the club and nodded to Carl, who immediately began preparing a whisky for him. By the time he walked past the bar, Carl said quietly, “Your drink, Mr. Stanton.”

“Thank you, Carl. Perfect as usual.”

The dark-haired man with the smooth smile simply gave him a polite grin.

“Anything new at the club, Carl?”

“We have a new red wine from a small vineyard in Napa, and a white from Chile that is quite dry. Perfect with sea bass,” Carl said.

They both knew that wasn’t what he was really asking.

An overly friendly hand suddenly clapped his shoulder. “Gav! How the hell are you doing?”

Gavin hated nicknames.

“Mason,” Gavin said without turning around. Mason Webb. Made his money in Web 1.0 by grabbing up every boring website name you could possibly imagine. Thousands of them. By the time he auctioned off the most popular names, he was sitting on hundreds of millions of dollars.

New money always reeked of desperation. Right now, Mason reeked of vodka. The man was a lush’s lush, drunk as a skunk most nights at the club.

On the other hand, he was also a savvy venture capital investor. Mason knew how to sense a trend before it happened and seize on it. That made him valuable in certain business environments, so Gavin worked to maintain a cordial—if arm’s length—relationship with him.

“You here in town for long? I’d love to do lunch. I’m noticing a strong trend in peer-to-peer lending that could make both our companies some serious cash,” Mason added in a low voice. Gavin’s blood-alcohol level rose just from breathing the man’s air.

“No. Sorry. Only here for tonight.” Gavin studied the room quietly. No Lilah.

“Shame. You planning to have that conference again out at your ranch this year? That was one hell of a bash. Made me about twelve million extra after rubbing elbows with the Saudis.” Mason’s eyes were unfocused from booze, but sharp when it came to money.

“No, actually, I—” Gavin cut himself off. Last year he’d hosted a small conference at the ranch, inviting a few dozen elite business leaders from around the globe. Hotshot biotech Americans, Saudi princes, Japanese mobile tech gods—you name it. The conference had been less about information transfer and more about pure networking. Four days of seclusion on the ranch with nothing but food, alcohol and outdoor entertainment had gained LupiNex a reputation as a thought leader in business.

And Mason was giving him the perfect, perfect plan.

“You know, Mason, you got me there,” he said, picking up the man’s speech cadence. “It’s a secret, but yes. We’re planning right now.”

“I hope I’m on the invitation list,” Mason said with a whisper.

“Of course,” Gavin said, a woman with blonde hair catching his eye. Distracted, he missed half of Mason’s next words as his brain picked the woman apart and realized it wasn’t Lilah.

“—hot pieces of ass around here.”

“Hmm,” Gavin said politely, having no idea how on earth the conversation had veered to
ass
. “If you’ll excuse me, Mason, I have to talk to Eva.”

“Special services to request?” Mason asked with a shoulder nudge.

“Something like that.” Gavin spotted Eva and walked over to her.

“Gavin! What a lovely surprise.” She reached up for a polite embrace, planting an air kiss on each cheek. “What can we do for you tonight?”

“Is she here?” he asked. No need for pretense.

Eva’s eyes flickered with amusement. “No. Her night off.”

Damn.

But now he had a plan, thanks to drunk Mason Webb. “I’d like to talk with you about managing another conference at my family’s ranch.”

Eva’s eyes lit up. “That was quite a success.” The club had received an extraordinary rush of applications following Gavin’s conference, which made the wait jump to thirteen years.

“Indeed. I’ll need staff from the club to come to the compound, of course, and begin preparations.”

Her eyebrow quirked. “I see. And I assume you would like to handpick the staff?”

He smiled. “Carl is a skilled bartender. Your entire catering division should be dispatched as well. And we’ll need capable, professional servers.”

“Like Ms. Murphy?”

“She’ll do.”

Eva dipped her head in deference, but her smile remained saucy. “I’m sure she’ll perform in ways that you will find quite pleasing. I will contact your office staff and begin logistics.”

And with that, Gavin gave her a quick nod and turned on his heel.

Plan engaged.

* * *

A
fter three weeks
at the club, Lilah was starting to relax and believe it just might last. When she’d been paid, she had a resurgence of
this is too good to be true
and thought any moment Eva or one of the security guys at the club would show up and ask for the money back. It was a lot to get paid for waitressing. A
lot
.

But nobody showed up except for the mail carrier with the bills, so she started to think about the future.

There were still plenty of debts, both from daily life and from school, that would take months for her to pay off. She dreamed about getting her and Jess a nicer place to live—and to support the both of them while her sister finished school—but their mother would have to come first. She had to get the hip operation and would need help around the house, and the fees involved for that help were depressing. Home health care aides, grocery shoppers, gardeners—Lilah couldn’t pay for it all, even now. She and Jess could take the bus on their days off, but it wouldn’t be enough.

She’d almost felt too worried about the continuing money pressures to take Molly up on that trip to the movies, but she’d promised, so last night she’d treated them both to the latest chick flick. And even bought the biggest popcorn and two drinks. Molly really was something, spotting the cutest men in the theater within seconds, flirting with the guy who handed them their sodas. She certainly had a way about her. Men seemed as enchanted with her as she was with them.

“Well, that was awkward,” Molly had said as they took their seats.

“What was?” Lilah hadn’t noticed anything.

“Popcorn guy. Slept with him six months ago. He’s an undergrad at BU. When I found out how young he was, I ran out of his apartment half-naked.”

Lilah had choked on her popcorn.

“It’s OK, he was eighteen. Totally legal.” Molly had sipped her drink. “And it wasn’t like we’d done it at his parents’ house. But I’m almost twenty-six. I can’t keep living this way.”

“I thought you enjoyed”—Lilah paused, not wanting to call her a slut, the way she’d called herself—“living life to the fullest.”

“I am. I thought I was, anyway. But sometimes I think it’s not as full as it could be, you know? There’s more to life than sex.”

Lilah had agreed. It was a good message to hear. They’d fallen into silence and watched the romantic movie that was entirely, absurdly unrealistic. Neither one of them minded it one bit, however, and walked out of the theater with plans to do it again soon.

Now, the next afternoon, Lilah kept thinking about how Molly had been right. There was more to life than sex. Getting obsessed with a gorgeous billionaire who’d taken a temporary fancy to her was stupid. Having sex with him could cost her a good job, screw up her life, and hurt her mother and sister. He’d move on, and she’d be left with the mess.

Real life wasn’t like the movies. With a sigh, Lilah hefted her old army surplus duffel bag over her shoulder and tromped down the apartment building stairs to the street. Jess was out walking Smoky. For Lilah, it was laundry day.

The building’s laundry room had a washing machine that smeared gray sludge over the clothes and a dryer that was as effective as a damp closet, so she had to make the trek to the Laundromat six blocks away. Her fantasies of moving into a condo with indoor laundry were vivid but impractical. Now she’d be happy with an apartment building with a coin-op washer that didn’t smell like dead people.

She tripped over the bottom stair, dislodging the bag from her shoulder and nearly falling on the broken asbestos tile at the entrance. When she regained her balance, she looked up to find Gavin Stanton standing in front of his parked limousine, staring directly at her through the security gate.

Her gorgeous billionaire. Her dangerous fantasy.

Her temple throbbed.
Oh, baby, you came back,
she thought.

Of course I did
.

Mouth dry, not stopping to think about how she could hear him in her head, she fumbled with the dead bolts and the double doors and dragged her laundry out onto the street.

“Lilah,” he said, reaching for her.

Her practicality swelled in her chest like indigestion. She barely knew him. He was a member of the club. They couldn’t get involved.

“Mr. Stanton.” She lifted the bag over one shoulder and turned to the right.

“What is in this thing?” Before she could stop him, he’d plucked the bag off her shoulder as if it were weightless.

“Give it back. Please.” She held out a hand, trying to look dignified as she waited.

His nostrils flared. “Ah. Your clothing.” He smiled.

“Yeah, and I need to get to the Laundromat before it gets too late and all the machines are taken.”

His eyebrows drew together sharply. “Isn’t this your day off?”

“Yeah, but it’s the maid’s day off too,” she said. “And my clothes aren’t going to wash themselves.”

His frown melted. “Exactly. Manny will take care of it.” He flung the giant duffel to his driver, who caught it with one hand, strode to the back, and dropped it in the trunk.

“Hey! Those are my clothes!”

“And they’ll be laundered before we return from lunch.”

“But we can’t have lunch. We’re—”

“There is no term of your employment contract that says you cannot have lunch with me.” He held out an elbow. “In fact, as of this moment, you’re on the clock. We have business to discuss.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What kind of clock and what kind of business?”

“Eva knows I’m here, Lilah,” he said with a smile that made her toes curl. “The Platinum Club will be helping me host a conference at my ranch. That means bartenders, valets, waiters, and waitresses.”

“That conference is yours?” Eva had told her about it. Just not whose.

He nodded.

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d already agreed to go. Enthusiastically. Seeing Montana was a dream of hers. The farthest west she’d ever been was Chicago for a school trip in high school.

“Why me?” she asked.

“Not just you,” he said. He took her hand and placed it on his arm, leading her to the limo. The feel of his fingers on her skin raised goose bumps. “But I certainly want the best waitress to be included.”

“I’m not—”