Billionaire Season 2 (9 page)

Chapter Eight

The blue envelope taped to the cash register at the
You Wish
bookshop had Allie’s name scrawled across it in red ink. She ripped it open and had to squint to make sense of Remy’s curlicued writing, “
Alaina Darling, I’ve gone to the beach, make yourself at home, no idea when I’ll be back. Stay out of the storeroom and be careful what you read. Hugs, Remy
.”

Allie was glad that Remy was gone, the last thing in the world she needed was to have to explain how stupid she had been to think William Warfield could possibly love her. She trudged up the back stairs to Remy’s apartment and she could’ve sworn she smelled fresh sea air as she stooped to pass through the low storeroom landing to the spiral staircase. The apartment at the top of the stairs was an original loft with high ceilings and brick walls and polished cypress floors. It was sparsely furnished but clean and like the shop below every flat surface was littered with leather-bound books. She dropped her tattered duffel bag in what was surely the guestroom. It was the smallest room in the apartment with only a narrow daybed pushed against one wall and an ornate walnut dressing table piled with books. Allie picked up the random book from the top of the pile and it was Jane Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice
.

She dropped the book as if it had burned her hand and sat down on the bed to let herself weep at last. William had brought her an armful of roses not so long ago and she had accused him of being as hopelessly romantic as Mr. Darcy from that very same novel. But they hadn’t ended up together in the end and she was not going to have her happily-ever-after.

In truth, nothing in William’s face or demeanor lent credibility to his words as they had driven together from Breaux Bridge into New Orleans. He calmly explained the terms and demands of his father’s altered will and yet his hands nervously clutched and unclutched the steering wheel as if they could find no solid place to land. The only reason he’d said he loved her was for the money, that’s what it was about, money, power, control. They were all he cared about he said, and he apologized over and over for misleading her. It wasn’t the same for Walden, those things didn’t matter to him, they never had. Walden had set aside his ancient fear of the bayou to come and tell Allie the truth about the situation, to let her know what she was getting into by giving her heart to one of the Warfield brothers. William made it plain enough that if she were to love one of them it should be Walden. That only Walden had no ulterior motive in his feelings for Allie.

She told him to go fuck himself and tossed him the keys to her new white Maserati as soon as they parked in front of his townhouse. Then she hurried inside and tossed all the expensive clothes and shoes and fancy underwear he’s bought for her into a trash can. She packed her duffel with only the things she’d arrived with and brushed past Miss Hawkins in the front hall as she flew out the front door and ran down the street. William caught up to her quickly and his eyes were moist with tears as he bent to kiss her lips. But she pushed him away with every ounce of strength she could muster and told him exactly what he could do with his tears and his sorrowful look of pity.

*

The days passed with only the occasional tourist wandering into the
You Wish
bookshop. Allie let the battery in her cell phone go dead and neglected to charge it since there was no one she wanted to speak to. She thought about abandoning New Orleans just as William had abandoned her and going home to California. But what was left there for her? She’d come to the Crescent City with hopes of unlocking the mysteries in the private words and lives of great Southern authors but her own life had become the stuff of fiction. Now she roamed through the stacks of books in her nightgown, her hair fanning out around her like a tarnished halo and she rarely stepped outside other than to grab a coffee to go. Brodie Maguire stopped in several times to check on her and the look of distress in his kind eyes when he saw the state she was in finally prompted her to action.

It was imperative that she lift herself out of the quagmire of self-pity she’d allowed herself to wallow in after William dumped her.
Dumped
. What an awful sounding word she thought, and what an eager little fool she was to have been so easily deceived. Well, live and learn. She wouldn’t give William Warfield the satisfaction of seeing her scurry back home like a jilted teenager. Nope, she would finish out the summer, work on her thesis and give some thought to sleeping with Brodie because she was a grown up and she was allowed to do as she damn well pleased. So when Brodie poked his head in the door one afternoon with a hopeful smile, she surprised him and accepted his invitation for drinks and dinner.

She dressed carefully that evening, although she gave zero fucks whether Brodie thought she looked good or not. She was antsy and at loose ends, she had asked a customer to leave the bookshop that morning simply because he quibbled over the price and condition of a tattered book. She felt bad about that and he was right about the shitty condition of the book, it was his looks that pissed her off. He was one of those body-builder types in a loose tank top that showed off his incredible biceps and jeans that hugged his shapely ass in just the right way.
Fuck
! His body was too freaking hot and it made her think of William and she missed William and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get over him. So she was terribly rude to the handsome customer and had basically thrown him out of the store.

Allie slipped into the only dressy dress she’d brought with her from California, it wasn’t expensive but it was definitely killer sexy. She pinned her silky honey-streaked hair into an elegant French twist and decided to go commando rather than wear her bedraggled undergarments (she had come to adore the expensive lingerie William had bought for her, that was for sure). A spritz of perfume, two coats of jet-black mascara and a swipe of petal-pink lip gloss and she was ready to assert her newly single status. The bell at the front door of the bookshop rang and she carried her tallest wedge sandals down the stairs to keep from breaking her neck and slipped into them just as she let Brodie in.

“Wow, can I say that or is it sexist and totally not PC?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear as he admired the super short pale-blue satin halter dress that perfectly accented every firm curve of her body.

Allie had never reveled in the power of her beauty before. That would have made her too much like her mother and she wouldn’t stoop that low. However, as she witnessed the raw carnal hunger in Brodie’s eyes she felt a rush of adrenaline that took up some of the empty space where William’s love had been. It felt damned good to have a man ready and oh so willing to worship her although Brodie struck her as a bit too easy to conquer. If she was going to play Liza’s game and fill the wound of true love gone wrong, well then she needed to step up and play with the big boys. She laughed self-consciously for letting her mind think such loathsome thoughts just because she was heartbroken. And here stood Brodie, handsome and gallant and more than ready to make her happy. She really needed to put away the scandalous “Liza thoughts” and behave herself. Her heart would heal eventually and someday, God willing, she would be
SO
over William Warfield. 

“No… yes… I mean that’s fine, thanks for the compliment! Thank you very much for appreciating my dress and… everything, Brodie. You’re really sweet and I kinda needed an appreciative nod right now,” she said and blushed at the happiness that swept over his face at her words. “Where are we going? I have to tell you, I’m in the mood to party tonight and I haven’t experienced Bourbon Street yet.”

“I can make that happen,” Brodie said and he led her outside and she laughed when he flagged down a touristy horse-drawn carriage to carry them the few blocks to the heart of the French Quarter.

“Where y’at chere? Ooh lala, you da most bee-u-tee-ful mademoiselle I seen since da Queen of Mardi Gras!” The driver said and a sharp pang of sadness shot through Allie as she recalled the lyrical accent of Alphonse Baptiste and the last night she’d spent with William before her fairytale crumbled to dust.

“We’re just fine tonight, thanks for asking,” Brodie said and Allie realized that the phrase “where y’at” actually meant “how are you doing?”

“Would you drop us off near the corner of Bienville and Bourbon Street please?” Brodie asked the driver politely.

“Oh ya, chere! The Old Absinthe House, man dats da goodest old place I know of to get a stiff drink. You be sure to order da Sazerac cocktail mademoiselle, you can’t leave Nawlins wid out you try dat one.”

“We’ll just have a quick drink there before dinner, Allie. It’s one of the oldest buildings in the city and sort of a rite of passage to have the cocktail that was originally made with absinthe,” Brodie said and he sat close to her in the carriage as the sights and the sounds of the Vieux Carre beckoned to them.

“I should only have one cocktail, I’m sort of a cheap drunk,” Allie shouted over the noise as they made their way through the crowded bar.

“Well that’s no problem, I’m here to make sure you get through the night safely and with your virtue intact!”

They both laughed at that, and Brodie pulled out a chair for Allie at a tiny table in a dark corner of the bar. His hands lingered on the silken skin of her bare shoulders for a moment too long and she looked up at him with a touch of sadness and longing in her eyes.

“I’ll get our drinks from the bartender, don’t move, I’ll be right back,” he said and she could tell he was reluctant to leave her alone in the middle of the raucous Bourbon Street party crowd.

Allie felt out of place when he left her alone in the oppressive gloom with all the boisterously happy drunks. A few were middle-aged couples wearing NOLA T-shirts and fanny-packs but the majority were her age, fresh out of college and in love with life. How had
her
emotional life gotten so out of hand in the short span of half a summer? She hadn’t come to this city hoping for romantic love but once she’d found it she knew she would never be the same innocent girl she was before. Wasn’t that what all those Gothic romance writers were trying to say with their flowery words and plot twists and pages of endless promises of “I love you!”?” Weren’t they trying to warn the unsuspecting that love changes the beloved just as it changes everything and not for the better? It breaks hearts and people and only mends and brings joy to a few of the very lucky and perhaps to those who can’t tell the difference between real love or simply the notion of it.
Oh my God
! Allie thought. She was not yet twenty-two and already cynical after her first love affair.

“Okay, so this is it, the infamous Sazerac cocktail. It used to be made with pure absinthe so it was served in a clear glass to show off the bright green color of the liquor. Now it’s made with whiskey but it can still knock you on your ass.” Brodie’s smile was wide and genuine as he edged into the seat next to Allie balancing two highball glasses filled with amber liquid. “I know it looks like a giant tequila shot but it isn’t— far from it. You have to sip it and try and hold onto your good judgment, Allie. Cheers!” 

They clinked their glasses together and Allie did as Brodie instructed, sipping the strange drink that was some sort of concoction that had once been made with the potent hallucinogenic absinthe. Now it was made with rye whiskey but as tradition demanded it was still served in a clear cocktail glass without ice. It was odd tasting and wickedly potent as she learned soon enough.

“Hmm, weird tasting drink but it has me feeling better than I’ve felt in a while. Can we dance in here?” Allie asked as the alcohol loosened her brain and her body. It melted her cares away and left her tingling all the way to the tips of her toes.

“We can do whatever we want, but let me go to the bar and get two more of these,” Brodie yelled, hoping she could hear him as the bar filled up with a gaggle of fraternity boys who had obviously just reached the legal drinking age.

“Sounds good, I’ll wait here and guard the table,” Allie said and she felt buzzy and buoyant and ohhhhhhh sooooooo good as the whiskey worked its magic. Mmm, she felt like she could take on the world as she closed her eyes and for the very first time she didn’t see an image of William’s impossibly gorgeous face staring back at her.

Her chair suddenly tilted backwards slightly and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling as her eyes flew open.
Hmm, isn’t it interesting to run into him
? Her addled brain registered the fact without alarm and with a warm rush of familiarity.

Walden leaned in so close that Allie could almost count the dazzling flecks of green and gold scattered in his dark irises. His smell and his beauty filled her senses and every other person in the room seemed far, far away as his hand stroked her hair and he lifted her glass to his lips and finished the drink in a single swallow.

“Do you want to dance Alaina? I’ll court you if that’s what you need and desire, I’ll play whatever game you like. Or do you want me to take you out of here and save you from that boy you came in with? I can see it in your eyes just like before, the thrill, the question— “
should I or shouldn’t I?
” Why fight it, Alaina?” He whispered close, so very close that his hot lips brushed her skin, his voice was low and deep and his words were dark and commanding. “I’m a man and you’re a woman, it’s the nature of love and attraction. Can you honestly say you’re not interested to know how indecently hot it would be to make love to me, to the other Warfield brother? With the man who truly loves you, Alaina.”