The Billionaire's Forbidden Desire (15 page)

“I sympathize.” Of all the shit Dane had had to deal with, watching his father with numerous wives younger than his children wasn’t one. “He wants all the Pryce-Reeds to attend the ceremony?”

“Yes, plus the twins. They’re looking for a reason to stay away.” They were the children Betsy had given Julian—another slap in the face as far as Geraldine was concerned.

“So. When are you moving out?” Blake asked.

Gossip traveled fast. Didn’t his family have more productive things to do? “Who told you?”

“Iain.” Blake regarded the lettering on his mug. “Technically.”

“Technically?”

“He called Elizabeth, which is how I heard.”

Iain couldn’t have found out that fast. He generally kept to himself. So that meant Al must’ve called…and he wouldn’t have done that without a direct order from Salazar.

“What’s going on?” Blake asked. “I thought you were dying from some kind of inoperable tumor when I heard you’d moved back in…although Elizabeth assured me you were perfectly healthy.”

“As a horse. I’m there because of Sophia.”

“This same Sophia?”

Dane nodded.

“So what’s the problem?”

“Are you joking? A young, nubile woman under Salazar’s roof? With no chaperone? I don’t want to end up with a stepmom who’s younger than Vanessa.”

“Ah, the old guy’s getting divorced. It’s a rebound thing. He’s not going to marry her.”

“You don’t get it. He let her drive the Aston Martin.”

Blake sat up straighter. “No way.” He shook his head. “I guess he must be serious then. But really, why do you care? It’s not like you spend a lot of time with your dad or anything. If Salazar wants to remarry, he isn’t going to settle for less than younger and prettier. And—no offense—your mom’s friggin’ hot. She sets the bar pretty high.”

“You remember that time after Shirley’s funeral? When I disappeared for a while?”

Blake nodded.

“I met Sophia then.”

“Okay, so? That was, what, three years ag—” Realization dawned on his face. “You slept with her.”

“Yes.”

“Well, all right, but still. Why not let Salazar have his fun”—once again Blake stopped in mid-sentence—“You still want her.”

Dane didn’t say anything.

“Dude. So do something about it.”

“Such as?”

“Fuck her until you get your fill. It’s not like you to let a woman mess with your head.”

“I don’t fuck my employees.”

“Then fire her first.”

“I’m not emulating Salazar.”
Fire ’em and fuck ’em
was his MO. Dane raised a finger when Blake opened his mouth. “Not anymore than you’re going to emulate Julian.”

“Okay, okay. Point made.”

“In any case, I have a plan to get rid of her by the end of the week at the latest.”

“You sure it’s going to work?”

Dane nodded. He’d only played hockey for a few years, but his coach had remarked on his speed and power. “Believe me. She won’t know what hit her.”

Sophia worked well past six. Since Dane didn’t look like he was about to leave, and she didn’t have a ride, she was stuck. Roxie had offered, but Sophia didn’t think it was prudent to reveal she was staying with the boss’s father. Of course she still had tons of work left to do. It was incredible how much got piled on. But at the same time she was learning what Dane did—finding and funding promising startups in the technology sector.

She didn’t understand how he chose what startups to invest in or why he was so successful. Digital Angel didn’t fit her image of a big, bustling corporation with thousands of busy workers. On the other hand, maybe you didn’t need a lot of staff to be successful. What did she know about the business world anyway?

The door to Dane’s office opened. “You ready for our competition?”

She frowned. “What competition?”

“You’ve forgotten already?”

Oh
.
That
. “Now?”

“I found a suitable rink. Pack your things.”

She bit her lower lip. She hadn’t finished one of the reports he wanted, but she could probably work on that afterward. “Okay.”

He drove them to a humble rink not too far from the office. Outside a sign read, “Closed.” She pointed to it with an enquiring look.

“Doesn’t matter, “ Dane said. “The owner owes me a favor.”

A ropey older gentleman came out and greeted them. He introduced himself as Timothy. He looked at Sophia for a moment too long, then muttered something under his breath. She smiled at him, unsure what he was about.

“The locker rooms are that way, skates over here,” he said.

“Are there any pants I can borrow?” she asked. “I can’t really skate in my skirt.”

He gestured at a small shop. “There’s plenty for sale.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. She didn’t have any money.

“I need a pair too,” Dane said, handing over his plastic. “I’m not skating in dress pants. Put everything on my card.”

She gave him a look. He didn’t have to buy a new pair unless he was going to fall over and rip his clothes, which she doubted he’d do. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I don’t want to give you any reason to cry foul.”

Oh
,
this is going to be good
. “I’ll try not to lose
too
ungraciously.”

She selected a pair of black workout pants and went to the locker room to change. The scene felt so familiar, her eyes prickled with moisture. This had been her life for so long.

After warming up and stretching quickly, she picked out a pair of figure skating skates. They weren’t as nice as her old ones, of course, but they would do for forty laps. Dane had changed into a black workout shirt and matching pants. He looked great, the fitted top showing off the lean, strong lines of his entirely too lickable body. Predictably, he was in a pair of hockey skates.

It was too bad that he wasn’t the kind of man she’d thought he was. She could see herself being in a relationship with that man, but not this cynical person.

“You’re going to trip and fall,” he said, pointing at the toe picks.

“Why Dane, are you worried about me? I thought you wanted me gone.”

He looked down at her. “Regardless, I don’t want you injured.”

She smiled with bemusement. He always denied that he was capable of being nice, but then he had to ruin it by saying he didn’t want bad things to happen to her. If he just wouldn’t do that, she would’ve found it easier to dislike him. “I’ll be fine.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t expect me to take you to the hospital if you break something.”

“You won’t have to.” She looked at the rink. There was a single line running around the edge. “So how’s this going to work? There’s only one lane.”

“Hmm. I suppose we’ll have to go one at a time.”

“Okay. You can go first if you want,” she said.

“Nervous?”

She shrugged.

He studied her expression, but she knew he wouldn’t pick up anything. She’d perfected her game face when she’d been ten. Her competitors had never gotten a good reading on her.

“Fine. I’ll have Timothy time us.”

Dane went around the rink a few times. He was better than she expected, sure on his skates. She didn’t know how long he’d played hockey, but it couldn’t have been more than a few years when he was in school.

When Timothy was ready with his stopwatch, Dane started in earnest. He was quite fast. Men generally had the advantage of power, and given that he ran and kept himself in great shape, forty laps was nothing to him.

He grinned when he finished and Timothy read him his time. “Damn, I’m good.”

“I have to admit, it’s an impressive time.” She smiled, said, “Guess it’s my turn,” and stepped onto the ice.

It felt strange to be back on it. She’d been convinced she would never return when she’d realized she could no longer skate like she used to. But there was an odd sense of serenity and comfort as she glided across the ice. After all, she’d literally spent more waking hours on the ice than off. It felt so effortless to push herself forward, knees soft and edges precise.

Forty laps was child’s play. Her coach—the sadist—had often made her do over a hundred laps at full speed. No longer in competition shape, she still had the muscle memory and technique that had been drilled into her since childhood. She went around and around, then switched directions easily as Timothy called out the twentieth lap. Everything became a blur of smooth, sustained effort. Her heart thundered, and the good, clean fire of exertion burned in her legs.

She was going to beat Dane. And not just because of the bet. She hated losing. There was no feeling worse than not being at the top of the podium, and she wanted the euphoria of victory. She deserved that much after the mess her life had become.

Timothy whistled as he clicked the stopwatch on her final lap. “Wow. She beat you by more than thirty seconds.”

Dane scowled. “Are you sure?”

Sophia came to a full stop in front of them. “I told you you were going to get embarrassed.”

“But thirty seconds? Let me see that stopwatch.”

Timothy showed it to him, but was looking at her. “Miss, I have to ask… Are you Sophia Reed?”

She made a small curtsy. “I am.”

His face split into a huge smile. “I thought you looked familiar. Knew for sure when I saw them edges. You always had the best ones.”

Her cheeks heated at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you.”

Dane slowly turned to look at the older man. “You
know
her?”

“Sure. She was a world champion in figure skating. Ladies singles.” Timothy turned to Sophia. “Would you mind signing an autograph? I’d love to hang it in the shop.”

“Of course.” She smiled.

After Timothy left to get a pen and paper, Dane gave her a look. “A world champion?”

“Well. That was years ago.”

“And you’ve been known to ‘strap on a pair of skates every now and then’,” he said in a slow, sardonic voice.

She spread her hands. “You didn’t ask me if I was a world champion.”

Before she could say anything else, Timothy returned. She gave him an autograph, and did her best to hide her amusement when he prevailed upon Dane to take a picture of the two of them together. His excitement at meeting her was genuine, and she couldn’t be impatient with him even though she was tired and starving.

They walked out to the car after changing back into their regular clothes. “Hungry?” Dane asked.

“Yes,” she said emphatically. “I can’t wait to see what Al’s prepared for us.”

“I’m not eating anything at that house.” He opened the car door for her. “Get in. We’re having burgers and fries.”

* * *

Dane took them to his favorite bar. It was a hole in a wall kind of place—small and tidy and nothing that caught your attention when you passed by. But it served the best burgers and fries in the city. The place was always busy, thanks to word of mouth, but Wayne, the owner, always made sure Dane got a table. He’d invested in the business after Wayne’s manager had embezzled funds. Although Dane wasn’t into restaurants—that was his brother Mark’s thing—he didn’t mind throwing seventy or eighty thousand bucks at a worthy eatery.

“Two cheeseburgers and fries,” Dane ordered. “The beer of the day for me and…?” He cocked an eyebrow at Sophia.

“A margarita,” Sophia said. When the waiter left, she turned to him. “A bit presumptuous of you.”

“I’m a presumptuous kind of guy. And you didn’t object.”

“Only because I like cheeseburgers.” She peered at him through her eyelashes. “How good is this place?”

“The very best.”

“Huh. I pegged you as the caviar type.”

“I’m not a cat.”

She snickered. “You know what I mean. The kind of people who frequent restaurants like the one your brother owns.”

“You’ve been to Éternité, right?”

“Yeah. It was stunning.”

“It’s a good place, but I prefer not to dine at my brother’s restaurants unless I can’t get a reservation elsewhere.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Too much like eating at your father’s house?”

He laughed, then stopped when he realized it was springing from genuine humor. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. “No, but it is a family thing. I prefer to limit my dealings with them. However, I’ll take you to La Mer. It’s one of those restaurants you have to go to at least once if you’re in L.A.”

“Also your brother’s?”

He nodded. “Mark. He’s the restaurateur.”

“Then it must be amazing.”

Their waiter plunked down their drinks and disappeared, promising to bring out their burgers soon.

“So. I won,” Sophia said.

“That you did.” Dane sipped his beer. Wayne brewed his own, and the beer of the day was excellent as usual, with a faint hint of raspberries. “Go ahead and gloat if you want. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Not really good sportsmanship to gloat.” She toyed with her straw.

“What about withholding material facts about your skill?”

“Hey. I told you I was going to beat you.” She sucked down the margarita. “Now tell me: if you’d known, would you have made a different bet?”

He considered. “No.”

“Are you going to honor the terms?”

He frowned. “Of course.” It hadn’t crossed his mind that he wouldn’t. “I’m a man of my word. Speaking of which…” He peeled two hundred-dollar bills and pushed them across the booth toward her.

Her shoulders relaxed as she pocketed the money. “I’m glad. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You earned it. Have you lived your whole life surrounded by liars?”

She hesitated. “Not everyone’s honest.”

Who had betrayed her? The idea tasted bitter, and he washed it down with some more beer. It was irrational for him to react this way. “If you weren’t sure, why did you bet?”

“Just in case.” She shrugged. “You might be that one in a million.”

Their food arrived. Dane dug in, grateful he had something else to focus on. He didn’t want to think about some asshole hurting Sophia or analyze why that made his chest feel funny.

Sophia took a small bite, then moaned. “Oh my
god
. I can see why you didn’t want to eat at home.”

He smiled. “Can you?”

“It’s incredible.”