The Billionaire Bad Boys Club (37 page)

“And Zane?”

“I’ve seen indications he feels the same.”

Rebecca’s heart beat faster for each statement. She turned wide eyes to Trey, who smiled angelically at her. She wanted to say she loved him too, but her mouth felt stuck. God, was she as bad at this as Zane?

If she was, Trey let her off the hook as easily as he did his friend.

“Why don’t you boys pick a guest room or two?” he suggested. “Then, since I doubt any of us will sleep, maybe we can convince Rebecca to whip up a snack.”

In spite of everything, she inhaled in involuntary excitement at the thought of having free rein in that big kitchen.

Charlie didn’t miss the sound—or what it signified.

“Okay,” he said grudgingly to Trey. “Maybe you do know our sister better than you would a plaything.”

~

Evan really came through for Zane. Though it was the middle of the night, he’d driven right over . . . with his own camera equipment. He said he often taped clients to prep testimony, to coach them on how to present themselves as honest and forthright.

“Some people sound like they’re lying even when they’re not,” he explained.

Zane guessed that wasn’t his problem. Once they’d hammered out what he’d say and practiced a few times, Evan only filmed him twice before he was satisfied.

“You don’t want to be too polished,” his old friend said. “Then you’d come off as fake.”

“Why do I feel like crap?” he asked as Evan packed up his equipment. “I’m facing my demons, spilling my guts to the world. That’s supposed to make me feel better.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Evan smiled faintly. “Maybe because you’re the sort of person who doesn’t like to be pushed into doing things.”

Zane supposed that was it. He rubbed his temple, hips propped on the desk where he’d been filmed. Evan had decided the library would make a respectable backdrop. “When will you send this out?”

“As soon as I get home. Best not to let other people control the spin on this.”

“We won’t be able to control it either.”

“No, but at least you’ll look like you’re standing up to it. I’m guessing the networks will start airing your response early tomorrow.” Evan clapped his hand on Zane’s shoulder. “You were fine. Calm. Straightforward. You’re not Paris Hilton, so I expect you’ll be excruciatingly uncomfortable for a while, but then you’ll get over it.”

“All this doesn’t shock you?” Zane couldn’t help asking.

Evan shut his black carrying case with a snap. “I’m a lawyer. It takes more than this to make me blush.” He started to go and then stopped. “It might not feel like it right now, but you’re lucky. To be loved that much by two people, whoever the hell they are, isn’t a privilege everyone can claim.”

“Send me your bill,” Zane reminded as he turned to go again.

“A huge one,” Evan laughingly promised.

The rest of the night was a weird cross between going to the mattresses in a mafia movie and meeting the in-laws. Rebecca wasn’t engaged to him or Trey, but having her brothers around made it feel that way. Once the twins relaxed, something they couldn’t seem to help doing around their sister, the chips fell off their shoulders. They were the same smart funny kids he’d enjoyed interviewing for
Bad Boys
—decent kids, with their heads and hearts on straight.

Along with Rebecca, they brought an amazing amount of extra life into his and Trey’s house.

Zane woke his corporate head of PR early, giving him a rundown of the situation and telling him to respond to inquiries with
No Comment.
He hadn’t bothered going to his private office to make the call. The five of them—him, Trey, Rebecca and her brothers—were hunkered in the library in front of the wall of screens. News of the sex tape, including portions edited and blurred to pass FCC standards, filtered onto the networks for the early morning news cycle. Crumpled and tired from being up all night, no one spoke as the coverage aired. Charlie hid his face in his arm for the explicit bits, a reaction Zane wished he could imitate.

The tape cut off before Trey took Rebecca against the bathroom wall. Either the lens hadn’t covered that angle, or the footage didn’t suit the point Missy hoped to make. Zane’s statement showed up in most cases on the heels of the tape. Seeing his face pop onto the screen was more surreal than usual. He didn’t think he looked calm. To his eyes, he appeared incredibly uptight.

“As some of you will have heard,” he said stiffly to Evan’s camera. “A tape of myself and two people I care about has been posted onto the internet. The tape was made without our knowledge and released without permission. It’s regrettable that we live in a world where people’s expectations of privacy can be violated so recklessly. Human nature being what it is, some of you will watch the footage. To those who don’t, I thank you in advance. While I’ve chosen to keep my bisexuality private until now, my personal preference isn’t something I’m ashamed of. I believe it’s given me a unique perspective on the world, one I hope makes me a fairer businessman and person. The freedom to pursue happiness, each in our own way and irrespective of others’ approval, is important to everyone. Thank you for your time and for letting me have my say.”

In the after commentary, the newscasters—for now at least—were treating him and his statement respectfully. Most felt compelled to add that it was fortunate TBBC was a private company and wouldn’t have to worry about plummeting share prices. Ditto for their brand being edgy to begin with. One waggish female commentator dubbed the incident Showergate. As mockery went, Zane decided he could live with it.

Once he’d watched a fourth station air its version of the story, Zane shut off all the TVs. He felt as tired as if he’d been up for week.

The picking apart would come later: the jokes on the late night talk shows, the conservative groups frothing at the mouth, the debates over whether bisexuality actually existed. Zane had done what he could for now. That had to be enough.

“That was all right,” Pete said judiciously, his words slurred by lack of sleep. “The bit about the pursuit of happiness was sort of patriotic.”

Rebecca got up to kiss her brother’s cheek. She came to Zane’s chair next and curled up in his lap like a cat. She was easy to put his arms around.

“I’m glad I’m someone you care about,” she murmured.

“Me too,” Trey said, sitting on his chair’s other arm.

Surrounded by the people he loved, Zane closed his eyes and let his breath gust out.

~

He let himself enjoy the respite for five minutes. Then he got up to tackle Mrs. P. Trey volunteered to speak to the house manager, but Zane preferred keeping busy right then.

“Stick with Rebecca,” he said. “Make sure the boys have anything they need.”

Standing close, Trey rubbed Zane’s wrist with his thumb. His brows went up when Zane had to fight not to pull away. “Stop thinking about your dad and his macho code. Letting Rebecca see who you are was the right choice. Having that exposed doesn’t mean you’re being punished. It’s just Missy being a nasty cunt.”

“I know,” Zane said. “In my head, I totally know.”

To prove it, he kissed Trey softly on the lips—though Rebecca’s brothers still sprawled sleepily nearby.

Trey pulled back from him and smiled. “Don’t let Mrs. P resign.”

“I won’t,” Zane promised, knowing as well as Trey did that she’d try.

His patience wasn’t completely up to soothing the guilt-stricken woman. She
should
have mentioned her nephew was the family troublemaker before suggesting him for a job. Zane was sure she’d convinced herself the position would help Owens straighten up, and no doubt her sister had put pressure on her to put in a word for him. People lied to themselves all the time about relatives.

Though Zane didn’t ask, she swore she hadn’t gossiped to her nephew about her bosses’ relationship. She probably hadn’t had to. Once Owens was on the staff and around them everyday, he’d have sniffed it out by himself. A single glance exchanged in the car could have given them away. Lately, Zane hadn’t kept up his guard as carefully.

“Trey and I didn’t have to take your recommendation,” he pointed out to Mrs. P and himself. “Ultimately, the buck stops with the bosses.”

It took ten more minutes, but he convinced her she wouldn’t improve matters by quitting. That was one load off his mind. Mrs. Penworth ran their house really efficiently.

He detoured to the terrace afterwards. He needed a few deep breaths and to remind himself that the sun had come up regardless. The birds were singing, the squirrels still scampering on the lawn. An unexpected peace settled over him. The truth was out, and the world hadn’t ended. He had Trey, and Rebecca hadn’t left. It was hard to imagine, considering all that remained to face, but maybe they’d come out of this stronger.

He’d set his cell to vibrate, and it buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw the caller’s ID was blocked. This was his private number. He hoped to hell the press hadn’t got hold of it.

He drew one more clear breath and answered it.

“There you are,” purred Missy’s most seductive voice. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

Zane’s heart thumped so hard she should have heard it on her end. “What do you want?” he asked tightly.

“Just to congratulate you. Coming out like that was clever. I’d almost think you didn’t mind.”

Zane gripped the phone and tried to project calm. “Missy, what I did to you doesn’t warrant this reaction.”

“Doesn’t it? You wasted my time, Zane, when all along you were in love with your CFO. I can have any man I want. I won’t be humiliated by some bastard billionaire using me as his beard. Does your new whore know that’s all she is to you? Does she realize you and your precious Trey count the minutes until you can be alone? Will she tell
her
friends she’s certain you’ll be popping the question any day?”

Was that what Missy had told people?

“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry you misunderstood my intentions, though—frankly—I can’t fathom how you could. You knew you weren’t the only woman I was seeing.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she said, her voice crisp and hard with anger. “You don’t get to turn this around on me. I’m the victim, and you are going to pay—you and your precious gay boyfriend.”

“Missy—”

“Turn on
Boston AM
,” she advised, naming a local daytime talk show. “You’ve got—oh—about ten minutes until it starts. We’ll call this ‘Revenge, part deux.’”

She ended the call, leaving him to curse at no one. He glanced up the rear of the mansion to the quiet third-floor windows where he and Trey had shared so many nights. Rebecca joining them had felt natural—inevitable, even. She fit them both, and they fit her. He saw that now, as clearly as the sun beaming down on him. What he didn’t see was why people like Missy needed to twist their happiness into a different shape. Couldn’t they ignore it and go be happy themselves?

Because he guessed they couldn’t, he went inside to find the others.

They weren’t in the library. He found them in the twins’ guest room, standing in a loose cluster in front of the wall TV.

“My friend Caroline called,” Charlie said as he came in. “She said
Boston AM
was promo-ing an interview with Mystique.”

He’d barely finished speaking when the smartly dressed female host of the show appeared onscreen. Frieda Finch, a forty-something auburn-haired woman, was as birdlike as her name. To the swells of show’s theme music, she introduced her guest as the world famous swimsuit model, Mystique. Missy sat in the opposite chair, seeming to like the description. She’d dropped her recent Marilyn Monroe kick and was looking more Kim Novak in a primly buttoned but very curve-hugging light gray suit.

Finch leaned toward her sympathetically. “Mystique, you and billionaire Zane Alexander have been viewed as an item for a few years. What’s your take on these recent shocking developments?”

“First of all, Frieda,” Missy said, establishing their rapport and her own composure, “other people built more on that relationship than I did. You know how it is when someone’s famous. Everyone they blink at must be their boyfriend. I’d say Zane and I dated casually. On the other hand, I don’t deny that today I’m feeling a bit misled.”

Treys snorted as Missy smoothed her snug skirt primly, not coincidentally drawing attention to her legs.

“So you don’t believe Zane Alexander’s claim that he’s bisexual? Don’t you think the tape supports that?”

“Well, I’m no expert on these things, but some might say if he really did like women, he’d have tried harder to hold onto me.” Missy attempted to look modest, but wasn’t selling that.

Whatever Finch believed, she maintained her poker face. “You must feel like you dodged a bullet. If Zane Alexander had pursued you harder, that could have been you in that tape.”

This question was a bit sharper than Missy expected. She drew herself straighter and pursed her mouth. “I assure you, the . . . sort of activities in that recording aren’t what I go in for. I have more self-esteem than that. My concern is that other vulnerable women don’t get taken in by Zane or Trey Hayworth. Behind that rich bad boy glamour, the truth is unsavory.”

“You’re saying Trey Hayworth, CFO of TBBC, is also to blame for this?”

Missy turned her million-dollar fake-lashed eyes toward the camera, her expression oozing sincerity.

“Fuck,” Zane muttered even before she spoke.

“I’m saying Trey Hayworth has his own shameful secrets. I’m saying neither of TBBC’s chief officers can be trusted.”

The camera cut back to Finch, who announced they had an exclusive pre-taped interview with a close relative of TBBC’s CFO.

“No,” Trey said, startled into it. Zane grasped his arm in support, but couldn’t stop Trey’s crazy aunt from appearing on the screen. Constance Sharp was better dressed than he’d last seen her—her make up professionally applied, her silver hair freshly coiffed. Despite the buff and polish, the crazy glitter in her eyes was impossible to disguise. She was posed in a high-backed chair in what looked like a nice hotel room.

“I’m not surprised by anything Trey Hayworth does,” she huffed. “He ignores his family, and spreads horrid lies about my father. My father was ten times the man those limp wrists are, but my brother was just as bad as Trey. He lied too, and hit people with his toys. It’s no wonder my nephew turned out the way he did.”