Very Bad Billionaires (6 page)

“Thank you. I’m going outside to call a cab.”

“No. Go to the garage, pick a car. It’s yours.”

“What?”

“Alston’s request.”

She looked away and blinked. “I don’t want anything from him.”

“Then don’t think of it as from him. Think of it as from me. A going away present. He did say to pick any car in the garage.”

Bryce glanced up. “Any car?”

“Yes, miss. Any car.”

She reached out and wrapped Malcolm in a huge hug. He squeaked and hugged her back. “Thank you, Malcolm. Take care of him, will you? He needs you.”

“I always do, miss.”

Bryce stepped back, and Malcolm backed away with a nod. She plastered a smile on her face and turned, standing tall as she walked out the front door and out of Alston’s life. A sob bubbled up from her chest as she hurried down the steps, but she bit her knuckle to keep from crying out. No more tears. No more wasted energy. She’d spent too many years on him already. If he wasn’t going to give her a chance to explain, he didn’t deserve any more of her time.

She ran to the garage and tugged the door open. Blinking frantically, she stared at all the cars. If she’d only left when she was supposed to. Driven away before Malcolm had given her the invitation. Then she’d be miles away, living her own life without a hole inside her that she’d never be able to fill. Damn Alston and his fear. She pushed her hair off her face and tried to get it together.

But all she could see was the future with Alston. The man she’d fantasized about for years and finally got. The man she’d foolishly given her heart. He’d had it years ago—deep inside she always knew—but it was different now. She thought of his hands as he stroked her bare flesh, his lips as he kissed her, his tongue making her come. She’d wanted to give him everything—her body, her love, all of her—and he’d thrown her out without a second chance.

All she wanted was to hurt him back. To twist a knife in his gut the way he’d done to her. The diamond was one thing. But she wanted more. More damage. More wounds. Her gaze flitted over the hoods—Mercedes, Porsche, Range Rover, Aston Martin.
The Aston Martin
.

She grabbed the keys from the wall and beeped the coupe open. Slipping into the leather seat, she rested her head on the steering wheel and took a breath. Alston babied the coupe. She’d heard the chauffeur talk about how he only took it out on Sundays to air it out and keep it running. She stuck the key in the ignition and took a deep breath.
Lucky me, it’s Sunday
.

Starting the car, she backed it out of the garage in a rush, squealing the tires and revving the engine. If the car was her parting gift, she was sure as hell going to use it. Punching the gas, she flew down the drive, through the gate and onto the narrow road. A few miles of curves and she’d be on the highway and away from the Hayes residence forever.

She might as well see how fast the car could go.

Chapter Six

Pressing his head into the bedpost, Alston closed his eyes and breathed in and out.
I did the right thing. She betrayed me. That’s all there is to it.
He clenched and released his hands over and over.
Don’t think about the what ifs. Her pleading words. She can’t be trusted
. He straightened up and opened his eyes.
I’ll pick up my life
. If he forgot the last two days, everything would resume as if she’d never disrupted his world at all. It had to.

“She’s gone, sir.”

Spinning on his heel, he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Thank you, Malcolm.”

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

Amnesia would be nice
. “No, thank you.”

The butler nodded but stayed still, refusing to leave.

“Is there something else?”

“It’s not my place, but…are you sure you did the right thing?”

Alston snorted and stared past his butler to the open doorway, remembering her naked body as she tore down the hall. “What thing are we referring to Malcolm? Kicking Bryce out? Falling for a charlatan? Please, enlighten me.”

“She’s not a charlatan, sir.”

“And how would you know anything about it?”

“I’ve been her closest friend for eight years.”

Alston didn’t miss the regret laced through the butler’s words. “Did you tell her about Bianca?”

“No. I did not.”

“Well, someone must have. And she used it—it’s the past all over again—I let a woman into my life and look what happens. She betrays me.”

“Are you sure about that, sir?”

“Of course I’m sure! I read her acceptance letter for god sakes. They splash my name all over it.”

“That was the University’s words. Not hers. Do you know what she wrote them? What they based that acceptance on?”

“I don’t need to. It was all there in black and white.”

“You know as well as I do, nothing is ever black and white.”

Alston tore his gaze away and focused on the bed. The bed where just that morning he’d thought about the future and how Bryce would be such a big part of it. “It’s not the same. I didn’t walk in on some scene, Malcolm. The letter spelled it all out.”

“No, sir. It didn’t.”

He glanced up and met the butler’s disapproving stare. “Are you saying I jumped to conclusions?”

“You wouldn’t be the first Hayes to make that mistake.”

Alston thought of his father. How he’d tried to explain all those years ago. And he’d shut him down. Refused to listen. Just like he’d done with Bryce. Visions of her face full of hurt and sadness filled his mind, but he shook it off.
No, she couldn’t have been telling the truth
. “What are you saying?”

“Perhaps, if I might be so bold sir, you’d like to read her application.”

Malcolm held out a handful of papers and Alston hesitated. The truth was right there in his butler’s hands. If he were wrong…did he want to know?

He grabbed the papers and flipped through them. Past the biographical statistics, test scores, and the like, until he found her essay. He sat on the edge of his bed and began to read. She’d detailed her ambitions, her goal to research grief and tragedy, just like she’d said before. When he glimpsed his name, he slowed.

Mr. Hayes plucked me out of nothing and changed my world. Everyone remembers the story—a ready-made Christmas miracle to fill the nightly news. Girl, orphaned from an accidental discharge of a security guard’s gun. Taken in by the owner of the company—a billionaire no less—and given everything she’d never dreamed of.

If he’d ignored me—thrown some typical apology into the press and had a Merry Christmas—I’d have been dumped into the system. A thirteen-year-old with nothing to call her own. What would have happened next? Probably the usual—depression, drugs, worse. I know because that’s all I wanted—to hurt myself physically, the way I hurt inside. I had no life, no family, no worth.

But that didn’t happen. He saved me. I’ll never forget my mother’s funeral. His strong arm wrapped around my shoulder, the words of comfort whispered in my ear. He’d suffered as a child too. But he’d succeeded, become his own man, built an empire. He might be flawed and distant, but he’d survived. If he’d had someone to care for him, maybe he’d be different today. I know I’d be different without him.

It’s this type of past—those like my own—that I seek to study. If I am accepted into the program, my goal is to work with trauma survivors to understand the effects of tragedy, the mechanisms of grief and how we can help children and young adults cope before they are thrust into the world on their own.

The papers trembled in Alston’s hand and he passed them back to Malcolm. No mention of Bianca. Not a single mention of his past. Only her life and how he’d saved her. “Does she really not know about the incident?”

“Not to my knowledge, sir. She asked me about it only a day or two ago. Something you’d said jogged her memory. She’s an honest woman. I can’t imagine she’d have lied to me.”

Alston glanced up at the ceiling and blew out a jagged breath. He’d been single so long. So focused on the past and the hurt and trying to avoid it. Instead of trusting Bryce and believing in this unexpected gift, he fell back on his fear. His insecurities. Pushed the best thing in his life out the door and broke her heart. He scrubbed his face with his hand.
Fuck
. He’d called her a liar and a whore and a whole lot worse. God, Bryce was right. He could be a real asshole.

At last he looked up. “You know her well, don’t you Malcolm?”

“Yes, sir.” The butler smiled. “I know her arrival was the result of tragic circumstances, but I am thankful I’ve been a part of her life. Someone like her doesn’t come around every day.”

“No. No, they don’t.” Chewing on his lip, he stood up and paced the floor, striding between bed and dresser and running his hand through his hair. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Before this morning, I thought I loved her.”

“And now?”

“I know it.”

“Then I wouldn’t throw in the towel yet, sir.”

Alston paused. “Do you think I can win her back?”

“If anyone can manage that, it’s you. Persuasion is a gift of yours, I believe.”

Alston nodded. “Tell me, what should I do? What would she like? Flowers? I can deliver hundreds. Another necklace? She seemed to love the diamond.”

Malcolm pursed his lips. “No diamonds, sir. She, um, used the last one as a baseball.”

“What?”

“On the entry mirror, sir. It’s…ruined.”

Alston raised an eyebrow. “She threw a five million dollar necklace at the mirror?”

The butler nodded.

“Damn. I have to think bigger.” He resumed pacing, brainstorming ways to win her over as a siren wailed in the distance. “Which car did you give her? The sedan?”

“I let her make her own choice, sir.”

“And which did she choose?”

Malcolm paused as the sirens blared louder. “The Aston Martin, sir.”

Alston spun around with a start. “She took the Vanquish? It’s a beast, Malcolm!”

“And your favorite.”

A police car buzzed by the estate and blue lights flashed through the shutters. Seconds later the woo-woo of an ambulance followed suit.

“You don’t think…”

Malcolm glanced up at the windows and back at Alston. “It can’t be, sir. I know she was upset, but—” The estate phone rang, cutting the butler off. “Excuse me, sir.” Malcolm picked up the phone. “Hayes residence.”

Alston watched with a pent up breath as Malcolm listened on the line.

“Are you sure? And she’s not badly hurt?”

Damn it. This is all my fault
. Without waiting for Malcolm to finish the call, Alston strode to his dresser and yanked on a t-shirt and jeans. He wasn’t going to stand around if Bryce was out there, injured on the side of the road. His company had failed her mother all those years ago—he wasn’t going to fail Bryce now.

The call ended as Alston slipped on his shoes. “Is it her?”

“I’m afraid so, sir. But according to the police, she’s okay. Just a bit shook up. Seems the Martin skidded off the road, through a ditch, and landed in a hedge row. Something about a sudden curve, I think.”

Alston grimaced and motioned for the butler to follow him down the hall. “Pull the Porsche out, I need to find her.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alston walked down the hall, passing the shattered mirror without a second glance. All he could hear were the sirens, all he could see were the lights, and he hoped the officer was right. If she were hurt, he’d never forgive himself.

The words of her application popped into his mind as he entered the garage—how she’d have fallen into depression, drugs, worse—without him. He’d never given her the time of day for years, but she’d credited him with her survival. Fallen in love with him. Gave him her body and opened her heart. And he’d kicked her out without giving her a chance. He really was no better than his father.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, he started the car and gunned the engine. Damn his insecurities.

* * * * *

“I told you, I’m fine.” Bryce swatted away the paramedic and pushed the blanket off her shoulders.

“You crashed your car. You can’t be fine.”

“It’s not my car.”

“Then whose is it?”

“None of your business.”

The EMT threw up his hands. “Must be a celebrity, the way you’re acting. I wouldn’t want to be a part of that conversation when you tell him about it.”

Bryce snapped up her head and glowered at the man. “How do you know it’s a him?”

“That’s an Aston Martin Vantage. It’s worth three hundred grand. What woman do you know who would buy that?”

Bryce blew out a breath and hopped off the edge of the ambulance. She didn’t need to get into an argument with a jerk who thought women couldn’t buy nice cars.

“Hey! You can’t just get up and leave. You need to go to the hospital.”

“We’ve been over this. I’m fine. I was standing by the side of the road when you showed up, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but you still need to be checked out.”

“No, I don’t.” She gave him a tight smile and walked around the ambulance to stand at the edge of the grass. She was officially rid of Alston Hayes. She didn’t even have his car.

She should be ecstatic. She’d wrecked a machine that cost more than the house she grew up in. A car that he’d babied and cared for more than most things. More than her. But all she felt was hollow. The anger hadn’t survived the crash.

It was stupid and immature and weak, but she still wanted him. His arms wrapped around her. His body pinning her down. His heart open and willing. If he drove up and begged forgiveness, would she accept? She rolled her eyes at herself.
Stop dreaming, Bryce
.

As she ground her toe into the dirt, a rumble of an engine made her turn.
What? Oh my God
. Alston jumped out of a black Porsche and jogged over. His face was stern and grave.
Great. Now I get to suffer through round two. At least there are witnesses this time
. She turned away and stared at the rolling hills as his footsteps approached.

“Bryce!”

“So are you here to yell at me about the car?”

“What? No! Are you okay? Have you been hurt?”

“Not by the accident.” She swallowed and forced herself to turn and look at him.
Whoa
. He didn’t look like…Alston. His hair fell in his face and his deep brown eyes were full of fear and something else.
And was that a…No. Alston Hayes did not just wring his hands.

“Bryce, I’m sorry. I was a complete asshole. Just give me a chance to explain.”

“You mean like the one you gave me?” She ran her hand over her forehead and waved the paramedic over. “You know, I think I will go to the hospital after all. I’d like to get checked out. I think I’m hallucinating.”

“Bryce, I mean it.” Alston stepped closer, reaching out to touch her until she shied away. “Come home with me.”

“I don’t have a home anymore, Mr. Hayes. Don’t you remember?”

Alston opened his mouth to respond, but the paramedic butted in. “Alston Hayes! I knew it! So that’s your car, isn’t it? That’s a real beauty, sir. Too bad she wrecked it, huh? So are you two having a lover’s quarrel or what?”

Bryce rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Last time I checked, I thought you were a paramedic. Or are you a reporter now, too?”

“Hey, just makin’ conversation. If you want to go to the hospital, you can hop right on up into the back and we’ll go.”

Before the idiot opened his mouth, that’s exactly what she’d wanted to do. But knowing that he knew Alston? It wouldn’t be long before he put it all together. Everything Alston had dreaded—the paparazzi, the tabloids, their relationship on the front page.