All That He Loves (Volume 2 The Billionaires Seduction) (7 page)

He led us down a wood-paneled hallway to a private room, open and spacious, with a forty-foot long glass window that looked out over the Strip. When you’re down on the street, all the neon and blinking lights can look gaudy – but from 300 feet overhead, it’s magical.

There was a long table set in front of the window, and a private bar off to the side. A bartender in a crisp white shirt, vest, and black bowtie fixed a mixed drink while a nervous waitress in white and black stood at attention.

My stomach turned when I saw the other people in the room. Vincent was off in a corner on his cell phone. Mr. and Mrs. Templeton stood by the window looking down on the city like a vicious king and queen, with two bodyguards flanking them on either side.

Miranda was in the middle of the room, waiting. She looked stunning in a strapless green evening gown that showed off her bare porcelain shoulders and long, graceful neck.

As soon as we walked in, she gave Connor a cold smile – and completely ignored the rest of us.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“I actually thought you might walk in late,” Connor said snidely, “and make us wait.”

“I’m not one for cheap theatrics,” she said, then let her eyes flit over the rest of us. “Unlike other people I know.”

“Really? So walking into my hotel room this afternoon with my brother wasn’t cheap theatrics?”

“No, it was a devastating tactic,” Miranda replied.

Ouch.

I looked at Connor, but the poker mask never slipped.

“We could have done this on the phone,” Miranda added.

“What, and miss the opportunity to visit with my family?” Connor smiled ironically. “I see them so seldom.”

“By choice.”

“By necessity. Otherwise I might kill them. Mother, Dad,” Connor said as he brushed past Miranda, leaving me, Johnny, and Javier with the ice queen.

She looked at me with about as much interest as she might inspect a pile of dirt. “Ms. Ross.”

Be like Sebastian – be like Sebastian –

“I’d say my friends call me Lily, but you’re not my friend, so – hello, Ms. Lockwood.”

The barest hint of a smile. “I can see why he likes you. You’re so… simple. Uncomplicated.”

“Mm. For the life of me, I can’t see why he
ever
liked you.”

She smirked. “Besides the obvious?”

You mean the timeless beauty, the hourglass figure, and the come-hither voice? Not to mention the whole rich CEO thing?

“You may be very beautiful,
Ms.
Lockwood… but you’re one of the ugliest women I know.”

“I would say the same about you, Ms. Ross… except I’d substitute ‘cheap and tawdry’ for ‘beautiful.’”

Bitch,
I thought angrily.

She gestured to the bar. “Drink? For you or your hired guns?”

At least she thought Javier was a hired gun instead of a gay hairdresser. That was a good start.

“I’m afraid you might have put poison in it,” I smiled sweetly.

“If your new beau doesn’t accede to our demands, you’ll
wish
there were poison in it,” she said, then turned around and floated over to Connor and his parents.

I slowly boiled inside.

“Don’t let her get to you, Lily,” Johnny whispered in my ear.

I looked back and gave him a grateful smile.

Then I strolled over to the group, followed by my ‘hired guns.’

Mr. Templeton demanded that everyone sit down and get it over with.

“I have better things to do with my time than this,” he grumbled.

“What, better than blackmail and destroying people’s lives? Come on, Dad, this is the perfect Tuesday night for you,” Connor joked as he pulled back my chair and pushed it in for me. Then he sat down beside me with Johnny on his left. Javier was on my right, his hands folded in his lap, looking suitably grim behind his sunglasses.

Apparently it was working, because occasionally Vincent would give him a nervous glance.

Vincent sat opposite Javier, Miranda sat across from me (
Oh joy
), Mr. Templeton was across from Connor, and Mrs. Templeton sat beside him, across from Johnny. The four bodyguards stood in the background, menacing shapes against the glass window and the Las Vegas skyline.

“We wouldn’t have to resort to unpleasant measures if you weren’t such a beastly son,” Mrs. Templeton said haughtily.

“I learned from the best, Mother.”

“Enough,” Mr. Templeton snapped. “What do you want?”

“Guarantees,” Connor said.

“I already said you have my word.”

“I said guarantees, not Monopoly money.”

I wondered if Mr. Templeton got the jab about Monopoly.

“There are no guarantees, you’re just going to have to trust us,” Miranda said.

“Or you could sext me a couple of nude pictures,” Connor suggested impishly.

I did
not
enjoy hearing
that.

Miranda looked at me. “I don’t think your current lady friend would appreciate it.”

I shrugged. “People get junk mail all the time.”

“Mm,” Miranda smiled – then, “No.”

“C’mon – you and Vincent could whip up some sort of a sex tape,” Connor suggested. “Although I don’t think the market really needs another sleep aid.”

“Watch it, you’re talking about my future wife,” Vincent said angrily.

For the first time ever, I saw Miranda’s mask slip, just the tiniest bit. A hint of displeasure – annoyance? Disgust? – flitted across her countenance as she looked out of the corner of her eye at Vincent.

Connor isn’t the only Templeton she’s played,
I realized.

Connor didn’t see it. He was too busy staring down his brother. “First off, maybe the irony of that comment will sink in later. You’re too stupid to realize it immediately. Second of all, I wasn’t really bagging on her so much as on
you.
”

“Fuck you, Connor,” Vincent snarled.

“Your ‘future wife’ certainly did,” Connor shot back. “How does it feel to come in second place
again,
Vincent?”

Ewww.

I was really,
really
not enjoying this.

Neither was Vincent. He was turning a mottled red.

“Actually, I’d say he’s first place all the way,” Miranda cooed as she patted his cheek.

Not from the way you looked a second ago, lady.

Vincent looked mollified.

That was, until Connor said, “You lied to me before, and you’re doing it again, Miranda. And to Vincent, too.” Then he
tsk-tsk-tsked
with his tongue.

“For God’s sake, stop the brothel talk,” Mrs. Templeton snapped.

 If I had been drinking something, I would have snorted it up my nose.

If this was brothel talk, it must be upper-class, billionaire WASP brothel talk. Mrs. Templeton had obviously never watched Jerry Springer.

Even the fact that she was using the word ‘brothel.’ I guess that’s where ‘harlots’ hang out.

“I agree,” Mr. Templeton said with obvious distaste. “Tell us what you want without the disgusting innuendoes.”

“Alright, then – I need some sort of leverage to ensure you don’t just blithely decide to nuke me later,” Connor said.

“Mutually assured destruction? I think not.”

“We’ll come back to that. Next on the agenda is, I want something for my troubles. Stock in your companies.
All
of your companies.”

Vincent laughed derisively. “For
what?”

“For my troubles. For my sunk costs getting the Nevada deal off the ground. For so cruelly crushing my hopes and dreams,” Connor said in a mocking voice.

“You can have shares in mine,” Miranda said in a bored voice. “I’ll give you two.”

“Two million?”

“Two
shares.
”

“That’s funny. You know, your companies’ stocks are like you in bed, Miranda: overhyped and totally lifeless.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mrs. Templeton hissed.

I have to admit, I kind of agreed with her.

Ewww. Ew, ew, EWWWW.

Although it was fun to hear my competition get torn down, at least.

But the thought of them together –

EWWWWWWWWW.

Miranda smiled. “And you were like your company’s dividends, Connor: small and unimpressive.”

Vincent laughed – but I laughed louder.

“Ha!” I snorted. “You’re forgetting, somebody here
knows
you’re lying.”

The entire table turned to look at me.

My face turned a shade of scarlet and felt hotter than a jalapeno.

At least Connor was grinning.

Javier kind of leaned over a little and arched one eyebrow over his sunglasses as he checked out Connor.

“Discuss your sordid love life on your own time, Connor,” Mrs. Templeton spat, “and have your little slut spare us the details.”

Anger flared inside me – and then Sebastian came to my rescue once again. In spirit, that is.

“Did you hear that, Miranda? Lenora wants you to pipe down,” I said, making a motion with my fingers like a sock puppet shutting its mouth.

Miranda looked at me, and I swear to God, the marrow froze in my bones. It was the look serial killers must give their victims as they pondered them, tied up and helpless. “You certainly do have a lot to say for someone whose blurred-out breasts are going to be all over television tomorrow morning. Too bad your face won’t be obscured.”

I didn’t have a smart comeback to that. I just slowly lowered my hand puppet below the table.

“I still want the stocks,” Connor pressed. “Ten percent share in each of your companies and all subsidiaries.”

Mr. Templeton shook his head. “You’re stark raving mad. You don’t get to come in here and negotiate the terms of your surrender.”

“You mean, the terms of your blackmail and extortion?” Connor asked.

There was a subdued buzzing across from me, and Miranda looked down at something under the table. Probably her cell phone.

“What on earth did you come here for?” Mrs. Templeton attacked. “Did you really think we were going to give you anything?”

“Yeah – ten percent of all stock in each of your companies, and all subsidiaries,” Connor said, smooth as silk.

“No, Lenora, he didn’t,” Miranda said – and her voice was chilling. “He’s only stalling for time.”

It was the sound of a serial killer the second he decides to finish off the victim.

I looked over and my stomach felt like it dropped out of my body.

Normally Miranda had a face that didn’t betray anything more than the barest of emotions, and then only through her eyes. Did you ever read
Great Expectations?
I did, in 8th grade. One of the few things that stuck with me (other than I thought Miss Havisham was a vampire because time froze for her, she kept away from the sun, and she got destroyed by fire) was Dickens’ description of Estella. He said at one point that Miss Havisham taught Estella never to have any facial expressions, because that way she would never have any wrinkles. Sort of like 19th century Botox without the needles.

Miranda was like that. She had a perfectly smooth face, and never gave away anything beyond the barest hint of a smile, or a cold shadow over her face and a steely glint in her eyes when she was angry.

But ohhh, she was angry now.

Her brows were knit together, and her upper lip was drawn up in a sneer. By a normal person’s standards, she didn’t look
that
angry – but when a marble statue suddenly glares at you, it’s frightening.

“A satellite feed at 7:30 AM on
Good Morning America,
” she said, staring into Connor’s eyes. “Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out?”

Despite his lapse earlier when Miranda held hands with Vincent, Connor was in fine form now. He gave her a puzzled little stare. “What?”

“No doubt you thought you’d go on the offensive. ‘Get out front of’ the controversy. Well... let me give you something to get out in front of.”

She swiped at her phone screen, then tapped her finger again.

Then she looked up at me, everything in her face dead but her eyes.

They looked like two hot points of rage boring through me.

I swear to God, I’ve never seen anything scarier in my life.

“Do you hear that, Ms. Ross?” she asked, and smiled – which was even
more
frightening.

There was a musical chime from the phone, and she turned it so I could read the screen:

MESSAGE SENT.

“That’s the sound of your world crumbling,” she whispered.

I stiffened up like a corpse. Whereas my face had felt hot and enflamed just a few minutes ago, now I could literally feel the blood draining out of my cheeks.

How long do I have?

How long do I have before my parents see those pictures?

When I’d agreed to go down in a ball of flames, I hadn’t really thought it through.

I hadn’t anticipated the panic, the fear, the absolute terror that gripped me from head to foot.

Anh –

I need to call Anh –

And then I felt Connor’s hand, warm and alive, wrap itself around mine.

Life pulsed back into me through him.

I looked over at him, and he smiled at me.

I could see the agony in his eyes, though.

I closed my eyes… and when I opened them, I smiled.

I had to be brave.

He squeezed my hand reassuringly, and then he turned to Miranda.

And serial killer met serial killer.

“Just so you know,” he said in a low, threatening voice, “I have now made it my life’s mission to destroy you.”

“I heard this song eight months ago, and it was boring then,” Miranda sighed like a put-upon teenager.

“I never said I would destroy you back then. I just told you to get out and never cross my path again. Well… you did… and now I’m going to crush you. And I’m going to enjoy every single moment of it. Even if it takes my entire fortune and I have to wait fifty years to see it through, it is now my life’s work to make sure you die a miserable, broken, shell of a human being.”