BEG (A Standalone Billionaire Romance Novel) Read online

  God, that poor woman.

  “And ruined him?”

  It scares me a little to think of that ruthless side. I mean, I’ve always known it’s there; I’ve just never seen it so close and personal, as intense as I do now.

  Wesley had been broken, devastated by what Lucian had done to him. I think I should feel pity or something for the sadness I’d witnessed. Instead I feel nothing, not one single thing at the prospect of my man going to the mattresses for us.

  “I took no more or less from him than what he took from you,” he says so deeply I flinch.

  The words make that silly, sappy side of me come to roaring life, and I look at him, smiling gently at his annoyance. Something in my eyes, on my face, makes him pause, and I see him tense again.

  “Lucian, I—”

  That’s all I get out before he’s at the door and bolting, leaving my words of love whispering on my lips.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Stop moping around and come have a drink with me. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I’m not moping.”

  “Oh puleeeaz, you are so moping. I recognize that look. Seen it in my own mirror a time or twenty, thanks to Brody’s commitment issues.”

  I laugh at the face Cammy pulls and flop down on the patio sofa, watching the wind kick up an eddy of leaves. Lucian has been gone for two days, doing God alone knows what, and I’m really mad that he left me so soon after everything went down.

  It’s dumb, I know this. I mean, I’ve needed some alone time to get myself together, but I freaking miss him. A lot. Stupid ass love.

  “Fine, so I’m moping a little. It’s just that…”

  It’s too embarrassing to admit that I’d been on the verge of declaring myself when my husband had run like the hounds of hell were on his tail. More so to confess that he’d spent the rest of the day avoiding me before hopping a plane on some trumped up business thing just to escape me.

  I’ve now decided to either make him suffer for hurting my feelings, or…well, I don’t know what else to do with these feelings, but I’m pretty sure I’ll come up with a healthy, or not so healthy alternative when I see him again.

  “It’s just that what?” Cammy asks softly, keeping her eyes on me as we watch the storm pick up outside.

  “It’s just that I suspect that he only left because I was this close to telling him that I love him.”

  There, I’ve said it. It feels crappy having to admit that to another person, but seeing as my only other friend is a shrink and will overanalyze this to death, I need someone to bounce this shit off.

  “Why am I not surprised?” she groans, grabbing her martini and taking a healthy drink. “My brother is nothing if not a coward when it comes to the emotional stuff. Did you know it took him five months after he’d brought me over to America before he gave me so much as a hug?”

  “Nooo.”

  That’s whack.

  “For real, sister. I eventually dragged an ‘I love you’ out of him when I threatened to leave and go back to our parents if he was going to be such a cow about it.”

  That makes me laugh hard, really hard, because I can so see Cammy throwing down the gauntlet and brining a grown man to his knees. Even if she’s a little bit of a thing.

  I could almost pity poor Brody if it weren’t for the fact that I think Cammy is exactly what he needs. She’ll shake his ass up good and leave him panting for more.

  I just wish I could say the same for me and Lucian. For real, that guy is going to run till his thousand dollar loafers have burn holes before he lets me anywhere near his black heart.

  Asshole.

  “Dude, if your brother takes that long and needs that much incentive to tell his own sister he loves her, I don’t stand a freaking chance. Especially not after—”

  Don’t go there, Ash. Do not open that can of maggots up right now.

  “After?” Cammy urges, her blue eyes watching me intently.

  “Nothing, I—I…what am I supposed to do? I’ve never been in this situation before. Do I let it go and just get on with things the way they were? I mean, he’s so good with Ben, and I…”

  God, this love stuff is turning my brain into whipped cream if I can’t even string together a complete sentence.

  “No. What you do is beard the lion and bloody well force him to listen to you.”

  “Yeah? What if he doesn’t… Well, I know he doesn’t love me, but what if that upsets him?” I ask, taking a drink from the throat-stripping martini she made me an hour ago. “Jesus, what the hell did you put in that shit, battery acid?”

  “Alcohol,” she quips, topping me up again. “Listen, Ash, the only way to get by those defenses my brother has built up around himself is to take a battering ram to them. He’s stubborn and hard-headed and just male enough to spite himself if it means keeping himself protected. He’ll never get where he needs to be without a healthy shove.”

  Yeah, but I don’t know if I wanna jump off that cliff just to get him there, and I say so. What happens if I say it and things get awkward? That would mean I’ll spend the next fifty years walking around on freaking eggshells around the man.

  Oh, where has all my mean-spirited fire gone? I wonder, feeling my confidence take another dip at the thought of being married to an ice cube for the next five decades. Usually I’d be over the hurt by now. That’s just who I am. When people hurt me I thumb my nose at them and walk on by, giving them the finger for good measure.

  Now I can’t seem to have two rational thoughts without thinking about the repercussions of my words and actions. I think sex and this love stuff have definitely ruined me.

  “I don’t want to shove him into anything. Geez, I have some pride, you know,” I grouch, swallowing another gulp of alcohol in the hopes it’ll overcome the Sulky Susie mood I’m in.

  Cammy gives me a brilliant smile, one I’ve come to recognize as her plotting look, and raises a regal brow.

  “I’m going to introduce you to the Goldens. They’re just what you need to get your arse into gear.”

  “The Goldens?”

  God, please, whatever she’s talking about, let it be something a sane, rational woman would be into. I have no way to shake the little minx loose once she gets an idea in her head, and I really don’t need to be getting my ass in trouble.

  Lucian would kill me if I so much as broke a nail right now, never mind getting myself into trouble with his maniac of a sister.

  “Don’t piss yourself yet, Ash. The Goldens are my friends, a motley crew of women who know what they want and go after it. If anyone knows how you should deal with Luc it would be those bloodthirsty skirts. Now cheer up, you’re about to meet Chicago’s legends in male takedowns,” she trills happily, tapping at her phone so excitedly I feel sorry for the glass.

  “There, now go get your face on and tell the security guys and that old ratchet-faced housekeeper to keep an eye on Benny. We’re going out.”

  “Who exactly are The Goldens?” I ask, knowing that I really don’t want to know but have absolutely no choice when all the little devil does is smile and bite her lips.

  “They’re the ones who taught me to go after what I want. Believe me, Ash, by the time we’re done you’ll have Lucian eating from the palm of your hand.”

  Holy shit, what have I done?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

  I want to run screaming and hide behind the ten foot walls surrounding the house when Cammy shoves me none too gently and urges me to enter the private dining room of Madge’s Tea Room, an exclusive little eatery that boasts some of the finest desserts ever created.

  “They look crazy,” I hiss, digging my heels in when one of the women looks up and breaks out in a smile that’s bright enough to singe my eyeballs.

  “Oh, there they are! Come on over, bitches, we just ordered the éclairs and some of Madge’s margaritas!”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea, Cam, they look—”

&nb
sp; “Yeah, yeah, put on your big girl panties and move, Ashley, you big old ninny. I already outlined your problem, and they’re ready to get the ball rolling on your ‘bag Lucian’ campaign. Now move, before I tell them you don’t want to be friends. That makes them right vicious, it does.”

  Oh, crap.

  I move, but only because one of them, a statuesque blonde that makes my heterosexual self rethink my sexuality, comes stalking toward us, her face a mask of determination and glee.

  “There you are! Come on, girl, we have everything ready. Come tell the bitches what your man did to make you look so down-hearted.”

  I swallow my trepidation and allow myself to be led to a table overlooking a garden that’s obviously lovingly tended. Three other women sit staring at me, their mouths tilted in what can only be described as grins of pure, evil glee.

  “That bitch over there with the green eyes is Lola. The one to her right is Brit, and the mouthy piece with the baby blues is Nat. I’m Vivi, by the way. Welcome to The Goldens. We look forward to a long and eventful membership.”

  “Huh?”

  Membership? These woman all look like society misses, rich and so golden—every single one of them is some variation of blonde—and beautiful I feel like a freaking troll just sitting here.

  “Well, duh. You didn’t think we’d withhold membership after hearing that you’ve bagged the great Lucian Jasper, did you! Good God, woman, we’ve been harassing Cam to bring you along for weeks. Now, sit down and tell your sisters what that big mean lump of testosterone did to make you so sad.”

  I’ve fallen down the freaking rabbit hole, I think, as I take a seat and watch five avaricious gazes zoom my way, their attention so absolute I feel like a bug under a microscope.

  Do I really want to sit here and tell a bunch of complete strangers my marriage woes?

  I soon find out, after three margaritas and two tasty ass éclairs, that yes, I really do want to tell them everything and see what they have to say.

  At the very least I’m feeling better than I did an hour ago, even if I’m pretty sure I’m tipsy and halfway to drunk.

  “He just walked out? Are you sure he knew what you were gonna say?” Brit demands, narrowing her eyes at me.

  Or the last éclair on the plate. Those things are damned delicious.

  “Yup. I thought he was gonna dive through the door, he moved so fast. And honestly, what’s so bad about your wife telling you she loves you?” I gripe, shooting my hand out to snatch the dessert right out from beneath their noses.

  Brit glares for all of two seconds before conceding defeat and settles back with her fifth drink. I’m really glad I’m not in a drinking competition with them because damn, these females know how to hold their liquor.

  Vivi snorts so hard she chokes on her drink, and everyone bursts out laughing, as if I’ve said something stupid. I can’t tell, since I’m laughing along with them. I can’t say why.

  Nothing I’ve said or done has even remotely made sense since I sat down to tea with the four mad hatters of Chicago.

  “That’s the dumbest question I ever heard! Of course he ran! All men run when they feel the cold fingers of death at their necks.”

  “Geez, thanks, Viv. And here I thought you were gonna say something nasty,” I huff sarcastically, scowling when they all start laughing again.

  Cammy included.

  “No, I mean, he knows that once you say it his days of being an objective observer will be over. My husband Jack was the same. He tried his damnedest to keep his neck out of my noose in the early days because some men work under the misapprehension that loving their wives makes them weak or some shit.”

  That makes a sense in a weird way. I think.

  “Anyhow, the poor idiot tried to throw me off by turning me into some society wife or some shit. He actually thought that throwing money at me would get my sweet ass off his back.”

  They all laugh again, giving me the impression that poor Jack had taken a rough fall straight down the same rabbit hole I’ve stumbled down. Poor bastard. With the way Viv talks I just know she’d made him suffer for thinking she could be managed.

  “I get the idea you did not want to be a pampered Botox Barbie.”

  She snorts and flicks her golden hair over her shoulder.

  “This, my friend, is five foot three inches of educated lawyer, I’ll have you know. The man didn’t stand a fucking chance before I cut him down to size and had him eating out of my hand. He tells me he loves me all the time, thanks to the contract I made him sign.”

  I gape a little and flap my mouth as they start spouting off about Viv’s legendary contract and her refusal to ‘give up the goods’ till poor Jack finally bit the dust and admitted he loved her.

  Part of me is totally loving them right now as they cackle like a gaggle of witches—is it gaggle? I don’t know—while telling really explicit stories about some of the sex tricks they’ve used on their husbands, fiancés, or significant others.

  “Stop trying to figure them out and enjoy yourself, Ash. You’re one of us now, so you might as well just fold. Once they hook you, you’re finished. I should know, I’ve been in this group since I got over the pond.”

  “And you’re still alive?”

  I say this only half jokingly, since Nat is currently talking about her latest lover while making a slashing motion across her throat. Poor fool, he doesn’t know what I now know about these women.

  They’re hell in heels.

  “So Ash, are you ready to start brining Lucian Jasper to heel?” Brit suddenly asks, making me choke on my next bite when they all turn bloodthirsty eyes on me.

  “Uh, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the way you’re talking about my husband. He’s—”

  “A man. Which means he needs a lot of guidance in the love department,” Nat says brightly. “Don’t look at us that way, Ash; we happen to love our men fiercely. We just aren’t willing to put up with their bullshit. Now, you ready to get your man?”

  I gulp and nod, since it’s all I can do as they all clap enthusiastically and lean closer, their expressions avid.

  “Now, listen closely, Ash,” Viv say conspiratorially, sharing a look with the rest of the girls. “Because this is how you bring a tycoon to the table.”

  I listen for the next few minutes as the Golden Bombshells outline a seduction plan so diabolical even my hard-assed inner harpy is awed by it. When the Golden Bombshells get into battle mode it’s a sight to behold, and so awesome even I can’t find fault with their reasoning.

  The only question now is where I’m gonna find the apples to do half the sexy shit they’re planning for Lucian and his blissfully ignorant self.

  Oh well.

  “You got it, Ash?”

  “Got it,” I say, smiling the same sly smile I see on the faces of my cohorts.

  Lucian doesn’t stand a chance against me when he finally drags his punk ass home, and I can hardly wait to see how he reacts to some of the stuff we have in store for him.

  Poor baby.

  Chapter Twenty

  Luc

  The house is eerily silent at this time of the morning as I reengage the alarm and tiptoe my way toward the kitchen, needing a few minutes to regroup before going upstairs to my sleeping wife and all the hopeful love I’ve spent the last three days trying to outrun.

  I’m a total bastard for having fled the way I did that day, but in my defense I’d still been on shaky ground due to her near death and kidnapping, and…well, the thing is that while I revel in the knowledge that my wife now loves me, I am not willing to return the sentiment.

  Ever.

  So I’d had to run and escape the vulnerable ache that had settled deep inside at her near declaration, lest I do something totally insane, like reciprocate her words.

  To be fair to myself I have spent the last days catching up on the work I’d missed while trying to keep the little minx in bed and unaware of the manhunt being conducted for Wesley.

  Howev
er, and only since I’m so bleeding honest with myself, I know that I could have accomplished it all from my laptop right here at home.

  But I couldn’t stay while under siege from my stupid heart, so I’d done the best thing possible and made myself scarce. I’m rock steady now and ready to face her words without doing something monumentally stupid and telling her things she has no place knowing.

  Like the fact that I’d almost gone mental when she’d been taken. Like the fact that facing a future without her had almost felled me. Like the fact that I’d wanted to puke just thinking of never giving Benjamin all the brothers and sisters I’d planned to put in my woman.

  “Well, hello there, stranger.”

  Oh, shite.

  I push away from the refrigerator, a bottle of water clenched tightly in my fist as that sultry drawl washes over me, reminding me that I haven’t touched what’s mine in almost a full week.

  Bloody hell, Luc, keep it together, man, I caution myself, taking a deep breath before turning to get a look at—

  “Jesus, what the hell are you wearing!”

  My dick goes rock hard and starts chomping at the bit when I take in her sleep wear. Ashley has a magnificent body, all curves and arse and luscious tits, just the way I like.

  I’ve never been capable of not wanting the woman, even sick and looking like death. Now, though…

  “Cammy took me shopping this afternoon. Do you like?” she purrs, spinning around to give me a view of her round arse and the almost sheer fabric making up her silk sleep shorts and matching top.

  I can’t breath as she turns back and smiles at me.

  “I—I can see your…”

  My voice trails off and lodges somewhere in my pants when she skips over and leans into the refrigerator, rifling around for God alone knows what with that luscious bum sticking into the air and tempting me mercilessly.