The Billionaire's Hotline (Men of the Capital Series Book 1) (2 page)

The aunt arrived sooner than expected and took the kids home with her, thanking Hannah profusely. Hannah lied that they’d been no trouble at all.

She was changing out of her usual yoga pants and baggy tee into clothing suitable for public consumption. Her jeans were too tight again, and she muttered imprecations as she wriggled in and barely managed to fasten them. It was called a muffin top, she knew that much, although hers was more likely comprised of Singapore noodles from the place down the block that delivered. Shrugging, she buttoned a white blouse over her Singapore noodle top, but it didn’t hide the bulge.

While Hannah was debating whether to bother with lipstick and mascara, her doorbell buzzed.
That had better not be the aunt trying to give back those phone bandit children,
she thought as she swung open the door. Hannah’s younger sister Becca stood in the doorway, bouncing up and down.

“I got the part!” she beamed, her lush blond waves bobbing up and down with her enthusiasm. “Well, not the actual part, but I’m understudy and maybe she’ll fall and break a hip or something. She’s really old to be the lead. She’s over thirty.”

“I’m over thirty, Bec. That’s great, though. When do you start?”

“Rehearsals start tomorrow! I’ve got to go home and learn my lines. You’ll never guess, though--what’s even better is Chris finally asked me out.”

“The line cook at the place where you wait tables?”

“No, that was Benito. I’ve been done with him for weeks. Chris is the
owner
.” She emphasized ‘owner’ as if it were ‘President’ or something equally impressive.

“So you’re basically going to date your boss.” Hannah got Becca a bottle of water and prepared for the latest tale of epic romance, inevitably to be followed by the sequel…the anecdote of utter betrayal.

“I’m not
dating
him. We’re moving in together.”

“I thought he just asked you out?”

“That was like three days ago. We’ve been together ever since. You should see his place. His loft is gorgeous; tons of closet space and a Jacuzzi tub. Last night he washed my hair in the tub. It was soooo sexy.”

Hannah grimaced at the image.

“I really think I’m in love with him, Han,” she said seriously.

“Then I’ll have to meet him if he’s that fantastic and comes with a Jacuzzi. Think he has a brother with a sauna for me?” she teased.

“No, he only has sisters,” Becca said solemnly.

“Let’s have dinner this week. I’d say tonight, but I have to go downtown to the cell phone place.” She groaned.

“Here, let me fix it. I have the same model,” her sister offered.

“Can’t. It’s at cruising altitude headed for LAX.”

“What?”

“My neighbor had a family emergency and I went over to watch her kids while she packed, and one of them stuck my phone in her bag so it’s gone.”

“That’s why you should never agree to work with children or pets.”

“I thought that was advice for actors.”

“It makes sense for everyone, doesn’t it?” Becca said sagely.

“I guess. But I do kind of like cats.”

“You are so not getting a cat. We’ve been over this. I will not have you becoming a crazy cat lady. You’re already reclusive and single. Add a cat and you’re a cliché.”

“Thanks for looking out for me,” Hannah said wryly.

“If you need a phone, I have one you can use.”

“You need your phone. Don’t be silly.”

“Of course I need my phone. This is an extra. A friend of mine gave it to me and I don’t need it. Here, you have it.” She dug in her monstrous handbag until she produced a disposable cell phone. “It’s pretty basic, but it should serve the purpose until the neighbor can send yours back. Here, I have a charger for it. I threw away the international power adaptors…”

“Thank you. It seems a little strange that someone gave you all that—”

“Oh, he was getting a new phone and just gave me this one,” Becca fibbed, not wanting to tell her sister she’d accepted a booty call phone from a guy in a bar last week. She didn’t want a lecture. She fished the charger out and handed it to her sister and programmed the new number into her own phone.

“I’ll talk to you later. Text me with a time for dinner this week. I want you to meet him.”

“Thank you, Bec. Congratulations on the play.”

“I’m excited about the play but really, it’s nothing compared to Chris and me finding each other after all this time,” she said dreamily. Hannah barely repressed an instinctive eye roll.

She found her neighbor’s cell number written on an envelope and texted her about the misplaced phone. Hopefully all would be well with Bill, and the woman could mail her phone back to her soon. She opened the contacts on her laptop and started entering numbers in the new phone. Now at least she could get back into the studio without having to go out. She shucked off the tight jeans and considered ordering pizza tonight instead of noodles.

Chapter 3

Jasper

“That’s right, Miss Hollingford, number nine on the list. Rebecca, actress, 27. Tonight at the Blake, say eight o’clock,” Jasper told his social secretary.

So far, the project had worked like a charm. Hot and cold running blondes at the touch of a button. Last night’s text had delivered a stunning lab assistant to his favorite sushi place in a barely-there bandage dress. She wouldn’t eat, swearing that there were bacteria in raw fish, so he didn’t even have to buy her dinner, just a dirty martini. Tonight he wanted someone light and fun. An actress sounded just right, although 27 was a little on the elderly end of the spectrum for his taste.

Jasper had had a productive day, finalizing the acquisition of two more promising competitors in the wind energy industry. He didn’t care much about green energy, but he liked to breathe and figured it was easier to make a profit off people who were healthy and generating income to buy his other products. It seemed a sound investment. Better than those e-cigarettes he’d passed up; although they were gaining popularity, he still thought they looked ridiculous. He hoped the actress didn’t smoke plastic cigarettes or anything else…he couldn’t stand the taste.

At eight, Jasper was sitting at the bar at the Blake in the same suit he’d worn to work. If it had been a date or an event, something where he had to worry about the impression he’d make, he would have gone home to change. As it was, he was able to work straight through until 7:45 and still make it to his rendezvous on time. He congratulated himself again on the sheer convenience of his planning…investing in a hotel with a lux bar close to the office, hiring a secretary and ersatz bagel boy to orchestrate his social life. It was good to be king, he mused complacently.

At 8:10, his actress had not arrived. He called Miss Hollingford with instructions to text the woman again. At 8:20, he demanded the number and texted her himself. There was no response, and certainly no delectable blonde on the menu at the Blake Bar. Exasperated, he texted again five minutes later. Didn’t she realize his time was valuable? If she showed up by 8:30 and apologized, he’d still sleep with her, he decided magnanimously. If she showed up by 8:40 and was suitably gorgeous, he might even buy her a drink first, although to his mind she had already wasted the getting-to-know-you courtesy quarter hour with her appalling lateness. He knew he should give up and return to the office, but he was reluctant to admit that his system had failed. It was a matter of pride now. Even though he could be at the gym or signing off on a leveraged buyout. Irritated beyond the telling of it, Jasper texted again. It felt good to plague her with obsessive reminders. It was satisfying somehow. He didn’t even admit the possibility that she’d discarded the phone or forgotten to charge it.

At nine, a vagrant entered the bar, her cut-offs and tank top spattered with paint. Messy brown hair was coming out of a lopsided ponytail and her face was flushed. Perhaps she was mentally ill, Jasper thought idly. Security should come take care of this before the patrons were importuned with some sort of scene. Even his house cleaner dressed better than that. What business she thought she had in an upscale hotel bar was beyond him. He punched in another text angrily. Seconds later, an absurdly loud message beep sounded…from the phone that vagrant creature held in her hand. She brandished it with disgust and marched directly up to him.

The mentally-ill street person addressed billionaire CEO Jasper Cates.

“Who the HELL do you think you are?” She hissed. People had ceased to talk and were avidly listening to the confrontation. Jasper let his derisive gaze sweep her from head to toe languorously.

“That depends entirely on whom exactly you think I am.”

“You’ve been texting this phone incessantly for the last hour and a half now what do you want?”

“There appears to be some mistake. I was trying to reach Rebecca,” he said smoothly, pleased that he remembered the actress’s name and wondering why in God’s name the half-witted bagel boy would have given a phone to this harpy. She wasn’t blonde, she wasn’t happy, and she clearly wasn’t overfond of Crossfit, judging by the softness of her shape. She wasn’t even clean.

“Becca is my sister,” she said. “You need to leave her alone. She’s happy. She’s with someone now, and she doesn’t need you fucking things up for her with your stalking.”

“Did you just say fucking in the Blake Bar?” Amusement quirked the corner of his sardonic mouth.

“Yes, I fucking did,” she spat. “Now stop texting and calling this number. It’s not Becca’s phone anymore, and I’m certainly not interested in you.”

“I assure you I won’t be trying to contact anyone at that number again. Clearly Rebecca’s life is going another direction now. I cherish the effort and grace required to inform me of that fact when a simple text message would have been adequate.”

“You were texting her obsessively. It was—alarming. I wanted to make sure you backed off.” A number of sophisticated diners were gaping at her, and her courage withered. “I know how I must look. I was painting my apartment when you started texting and…I guess I didn’t think it through.”

“I’ll take the phone back.”

“No. I need it. She gave it to me because she was through with it. It was hers. Were you the guy who gave it to her?”

“No but the phone belongs to my company.”

“Then how did Becca—never mind. My sister gave it to me, and I’m keeping it.”

“Listen, Miss—“

“Largent. Hannah Largent,” she said, hands on her hips, fury at defending her phone burning away her fit of embarrassment.

“Miss Largent, your sister was given the phone for a reason which is no longer viable. Return it to me.”

“Forget it.” She turned around and stalked out of the bar.

Without hesitation, Jasper left his drink and took off after her. The idea of this harpy keeping one of his phones when it could be redistributed to a woman who met his criteria was offensive. That was
his
thirty dollar disposable phone, and he’d be damned if some stupid actress was going to get away with giving it to her frumpy sister. He caught up to her. Maybe she wasn’t as out-of-shape as he had thought, considering her speed. Grabbing her by the arm, he stopped her. She whipped her head around, her ponytail flicking him across the face.

“Seriously? You’re going to follow me, because all the text stalking didn’t make you seem psycho enough?” She scoffed.

For the first time, he noticed that her voice was gorgeous, low and husky. It made him think of a dark cabaret, a pair of red lips closing around a white cigarette, the tip of a pink tongue darting out to form a perfect pale smoke ring drifting up to the rafters. Her voice was like velvet, and he had a fierce urge to cover her mouth with his.

“My phone,” he gasped.

“No, that’s MY phone. Were you going to give it to some other girl? Wait—that’s it, isn’t it? You gave the phone to Becca or had someone else do it so you could call her to hook up. How many phones have you given out?”

“Twenty-nine.” He smirked.

“That is repulsive. Who does that?”

“I’m a busy man, Miss Lawson.”

Hannah leaned closer for emphasis. “Largent. But if you’re as successful as you act, you already knew that and just said my name wrong to put me in my place.”

Now Jasper knew she sounded like Nina Simone and smelled like cinnamon gum. He found it hard to regulate his breathing, much less keep his hands to himself.

“Excuse me?” His eyebrows shot up.

“You dropped your voice to make it sound confidential, but your eyes cut to the left. You’re trying to manage me with a falsehood.”

“Are you a criminal profiler or something?”

“Actually, I do voiceovers and some sound effects editing. I work both sides of the sound board. I know how to manipulate intonation linguistics. It’s part of my job. You, Mr. Cates, have a Machiavellian inflection.”

“Is that a clinical term?”

“No. I just made it up, but it suits you, because you’ll say anything to achieve your objective. You belittle me, lie to me, and harass my sister.”

“I merely tendered an invitation which she no longer wishes to accept. Return my phone so it can be recirculated.”

“I refuse to abet such a blatantly patriarchal attempt at human trafficking.” Her low voice grew haughty, but no less irresistible for it.

“Human trafficking entails financial gain or compensation. I read
Half the Sky,
so don’t try to give me a vocabulary lesson and mischaracterize my dating methodology as an atrocity against women and children.”

“Prostitution, then.”

“Again, by definition, a financial transaction. I have never had to pay for or even coerce sexual favors from anyone.”

“You’re awfully insecure for such an arrogant man. I’d like to add you to my repertoire. May I record you?”

Jasper bristled at the implication and set his jaw. “No,” he barked.

“I’ll give you back the phone in three days—that’s when I’ll get my real phone back—if you’ll let me record you being arrogant and manipulative. I’d like to study your intonation and see if I can imitate it for work purposes. It’s more complex than I first thought,” she offered, dropping her voice so he had to step closer.