The Boy Next Door (5 page)

Victoria burst into laughter, “I know!  What do we do with him?”

Amber rested her cheek on Victoria’s shoulder, “We hang on to him.  Tightly.”

“Oh I did!”

The two women eventually headed off to their respective bedrooms for the night.  As Victoria was drifting back to sleep, she heard a soft knock on the patio door.  She tossed on her yoga pants and went to investigate.  Damian was standing there on their patio with one hand tucked casually into the waistband of his jeans.

“Hi there,” she whispered.

“Hey yourself.  Can you come out for a minute?”

“One second…”  Victoria ran to her purse to grab her cigarettes.

She reappeared with a sweatshirt over her tee shirt, and stepped out quietly.

“What’s going on?  Everything okay?”

“No, not really,” Damian actually looked nervous.

“Are you—?  What’s going on?  Did I do something? Did she do something?”

“No, it’s not that.  I just meant… well, what I said before, that we’re not finished.”

“Ohhh…  well, maybe tomorrow, but I’m kind of tired tonight.”

He chuckled, “Not that.  Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Really?  A real date?  I’d love that.”

“Me too,” he said softly as he pressed a lingering kiss on the pulse in her neck.

THE END

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Billionaire Bad Boys

A Billionaire Romance Collection

By: Midnight Moon Publishing

Seduced by a Forbidden
Billionaire

Chapter One

Another day, another million dollars
, he thought. 
Pre-tax of course.  Gotta give Uncle Sam his cut otherwise he takes it all.
 

He ran his fingers through his shaggy black hair and let the thick curls fall around his dark eyes.  Draco Morgan rested his elbows on the smooth mahogany surface of his desk and let his face drop into his hands.  It had been a trying day in the boardroom and he was ready to call the day finished, despite the fact it was only one in the afternoon.

He punched a button on his phone and ordered his assistant, Katherine, to fetch his lunch.  There was a faint sigh in her voice as she acknowledged him.  He was not worried about the unintentional display of annoyance.  Her slightly difficult attitude was also one of her biggest attributes since she turned those same mannerisms on the would-be callers and visitors in her role as his gatekeeper.

Draco scanned through his e-mail as he waited for his food.  The million dollars that had his attention was just another million into the coffers for a rainy day.  Once his bank balance had entered the ten digit arena, a million seemed like the change that a normal person might lose in the cushions of their couch.

Katherine swung open his door without knocking, and strode into his office with the tray of food.  She laid out the heavy silver cutlery and piled his salad onto the china plate.  He wrinkled his nose at the tangle of lettuce and vegetables and she shook her head.

“You know you’re supposed to eat healthier, Mister Morgan.  Your doctor says no more steaks for a while.”

He rolled his eyes and shooed her away with a wave of his hand.  She had no business lecturing him about his health.  She didn’t get the six figure salary his dietician did.  He dug into the meal and started making his mental plans for his steak dinner with plenty of blue cheese crumbles and red wine, followed by a stop at his favorite bar for more liquid refreshment of the Scotch variety.

After he closed out his afternoon by checking more e-mails and confirming the arrangements of the most recent land purchase with his legal department, he sent Katherine home early and headed out right behind her.

Despite the early hour of four o’clock, Draco swung into the steakhouse and was immediately escorted to a private table in the back with murmurs of “Yes Mister Morgan, of course Mister Morgan,” and an ocean of hushed whispers from every young female wait staffer in the place.  He raked his fingers through his mess of curls and grinned to himself, thinking that perhaps the evening would include less Scotch and more companionship.

The rare steak he ordered arrived quickly, smothered in sautéed mushrooms, balsamic vinegar reduction, and handfuls of blue cheese.  It came with a salad but he had already had his fill at lunch and was more eager for the garlic mashed potatoes and creamed spinach.  In his mind, those counted as vegetables in case Katherine asked the next morning.  His stomach growled unbecomingly and he dug in ravenously.  It tasted all that much better since he had been forbidden to eat it. 

As he relished his meal, he perused the view from his table in the corner.  The top reason this was his favorite steakhouse was the food, of course, but the second was the view from his padded leather booth, so that he could see all of the beautiful young women scurrying silently around the room as they waited on the tables.

After he finished his meal and paid the $250 tab without even blinking, he beckoned to one particular waitress and she teetered over on her stiletto heels.

“Yes, Mister Morgan?  How can I help you?”

His face split into a hungry grin.  “I was hoping you’d offer.  What time do you get off?”

“Actually, not for about two hours, sir.”

“How about, when you get off, you meet me at the Silver Oak Bar around the corner?  I’d love to buy you a drink and chat.”

She knew him and his reputation; and that his offer to chat would last about as long as it took him to call his driver to take them both back to his penthouse suite.

“Perhaps, Sir, but I might have to stay late.”

“Oh, I can make arrangements for that not to happen.”

“I don’t mind.  I like the customers and the extra tips.”

He leaned forward on his elbows and whispered loudly, “I have more than just a tip for a pretty thing like you…”

She had the decency to blush.  “We’ll see.  Thank you, Mister Morgan.”

She made a graceful exit, her long tanned legs rising from the black stilettos and disappearing up into the short tight black skirt.  As her heart-shaped ass swayed away from him, he felt a familiar twinge in his groin and he pictured her in nothing but those high heels and on all fours in front of him.  He hoisted his tall muscled frame from the plush booth, smoothed the impeccable Armani slacks as a force of habit, and headed out the door with a blatant wink in her direction.

Chapter Two

Taylor Skiles sighed deeply and rubbed her temples in an effort to push the headache back to where it had come from.  The partner in charge had just left her office after requesting a status update on a particular case and she felt more behind than ever.  These people and their families seem to just keep committing their crimes and she could not convince the powers that be that she had plenty on her plate already.

She knew she could not push back too much if she had any hope of becoming partner at the firm in the near future.  But she was even starting to question whether she wanted to continue her career down the path of defending these hopeless repeat criminals who had more money than sense.  At least as a public defender, she might be helping someone who truly needed her expertise.  Or even the opposite.  A friend of hers from law school who worked for the city had told her over drinks a few nights ago that there might be an imminent opening in the city prosecutor’s office.

“C’mon Taylor,” her friend had persuaded, “just think, you could be putting these guys away instead of keeping them free to do it all over again.”

Taylor had been pondering all of her options, but none of them would be worth considering if she did not make a dent in the paperwork that threatened to avalanche all over her desktop.  She dialed up her favorite Chinese food place and within thirty minutes or so she had her vegetarian tofu fried rice steaming in front of her in its stereotypical white cardboard carton.

She did not have the time or patience for the chopsticks, so she stuck them in her desk with the pile of other chopsticks, and picked up the flimsy plastic fork.  The food was not the best but it was not bad, and it kept her stomach from growling too loudly.

As she chewed thoughtfully, she dug through her e-mail to find a specific message from her paralegal about whose signature they were waiting for on the breaking and entering case.  The crime had
allegedly
been committed by the twenty year old son of a congressman, and he was willing to pay her firm nearly anything to keep the case out of court and out of the news.

She shook her head as she remembered the meeting with the son and the father.  The younger man had been at minimum hungover if not still drunk, and the father was more concerned about his political reputation and career than about the fact that it appeared that the son had actually committed the crime.  At the same time as she found the e-mail message, she remembered that they were waiting on the district attorney’s final approval on the plea bargain they had negotiated.  The young man’s punishment for destroying the living room of an underprivileged single mother was forty hours of community service.

The reality of her job came crashing back through her mind and she groaned loudly to no one.  There was always a politician or a businessman or a judge who needed their firm’s assistance in avoiding embarrassment and loss of reputation, but no one who actually deserved the second chances that the lawyers seemed to dole out on a daily basis.

Taylor pulled her long blonde ponytail down and re-tied it back.  She fired off yet another e-mail to the district attorney asking him to put a rush on the document, and packed up for the night.  There was no one waiting for her at home, and she was ready for  a nice long run in the park and then her quiet empty apartment.

Chapter Three

Draco walked over to the Silver Oak tavern to ostensibly work off his dinner, and he had his driver drive the three blocks so that he would not have to walk back to the restaurant when it was time to leave.  The black luxury sedan passed him as he entered the bar, and pulled into a parallel parking spot just across the street.

Draco’s face and reputation were as familiar in the bar as they had been in the restaurant, and he enjoyed table service in the VIP suite.  He did mention to the hostess at the front as well as the girl at the VIP stand that he expected a young lady to be joining him later.  They both reacted the same way, with a blush and a giggle, and “Yes Mister Morgan.”

He took up his seat at the inlaid wooden table and gestured to the bartender with three fingers.  Almost instantly, a crystal tumbler appeared in front of him with three fingers worth of Scotch, give or take.  He took a long pull at the amber liquid and let it trace a warm path down his throat and into his full stomach.  He knew that living this way would eventually take its toll on his physique, but up until now, he had managed to hold on to his muscled upper body and six pack abs.  And no young lady that had ever accompanied him home had left his penthouse complaining.  Well, perhaps they complained about walking a little funny, but that was it to his knowledge.

He kept one eye on the door for the blonde from the restaurant, and kept the other eye on the brunette at the next table over.  He was perfectly aware that some women paid the price tag to sit in the VIP lounge with the sole purpose of hunting rich men, but he was not opposed to using them for temporary companionship should he be interested.

He noticed that the brunette was eying him like he was a last meal for a dying man—well, woman—and while he found her interest and desire appealing, desperation was really not attractive, regardless of her cup size.

He deliberately turned away from her with his whole body, and scanned the rest of the room.  It was mostly occupied with men in their sixties accompanied by women in their twenties, and Draco had gotten very good at determining who was a trophy wife and who was a rent-a-date.  He himself always paid for a date one way or the other, but he never had to rent one outright.

There were very few prospects that night that he would have considered taking home, and he hoped even harder that the young waitress would show up.  He closed his eyes and pictured her walking away from him at the restaurant again, and felt the same tingle in his groin as he remembered the definition in her calf muscles and the shimmy in her breasts when she giggled.  He disliked having to touch himself when he started thinking about someone, but it was certainly a better option than going to sleep horny.

After he drained the glass, he pulled out the limited food menu and ordered the charcuterie and cheese plate to go with his next drink.  The Scotch usually left him feeling full just by itself, so he switched to an extra dirty martini with the snack.

As he nibbled and sipped, the young woman strolled in wearing that same short tight black skirt with the stilettos still on.  As she approached his table, he also noticed that she had unfastened one extra button on her blouse and he had a perfect view of ample cleavage cupped in lace.  He groaned quietly to himself and grinned up at her.  He had not been certain she would show, but he promised himself that he would make it worth her time and effort.

Just as she reached the chair opposite him, another patron approached her from the back and started pawing at her hips drunkenly.  She tried to politely swerve out of his way, but he seemed to track her body with his eager hands.  She flashed a quick panicked look at Draco, and he reacted instantly, leaping up so fast that he knocked his chair backwards onto the floor.

Now the entire bar was watching the commotion, but Draco paid no attention to the crowd.  He strode over angrily, and stood over the other man by a good five inches.

“Take your hands off her,” he warned.

“Man, she don’t b’long to you,” he slurred.

“She belongs to herself, and I believe she would like you to leave,” he warned again, this time his voice dropping an octave.

“Naw man, she likes me,” he drooled.

“Miss, are you pleased with his attentions?” Draco asked loudly and sarcastically.

“N-N-No, I’m not…” the poor overwhelmed girl stuttered.

“It’s time for you to leave,” Draco stated to the offender.

“No, I can shtay, it’s a free country.  Now leave ush alone man, or I’ll call sh’curity.”  His slurring was getting worse.

“I own this bar and I own the security company who contracts here.  Go ahead.”  Draco leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, letting his bulging biceps speak for themselves.  His dark eyes flashed anger and his thick curls covered his forehead.

The drunken man poked Draco in the chest.  “You ain’t shpecial, man, you don’t own nothing.”

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.”  Draco spat out each word.

The man squinted at him and poked again.

“I said don’t touch me,” Draco uncrossed his arms and hung them loosely at his side, hands balled into fists.  He was now royally pissed that his date had been sidelined before it really even began.