The Billionaire and The Virgin Page 3

  “Sheba, Daisy, here doggies!”

  Not a sound. It’s silent again, but I can’t take the chance that they’re romping around the penthouse unattended, possibly breaking Vivian’s things. Expensive stuff I can’t replace.

  Groaning, I begrudgingly turn off the jacuzzi jets and step out of the tub.

  “Here Sheba! Here Daisy!” I shout, drying off a bit and putting on the bathrobe. If I’m quick about locating them and taking them back in their room, the water may still be warm enough to top up and resume my de-stressing.

  They’re not in any of the rooms upstairs. Taking the stairs from outside Vivian’s master bedroom, I look around in the hallway outside the formal dining room. It’s only when I cross through the foyer to check the kitchen that I see why they’re not answering. The balcony door is wide open, Daisy is sitting beside it, tail wagging.

  Sheba isn’t with her.

  “Stay, Daisy,” I say, hurrying over to her. “Don’t you move. Bad Daisy. How did you get this door open? I know I locked it too,” I tell her, scolding her with one finger that should be all wrinkly by now if I were still in the jacuzzi. She tucks her head under one paw and makes a few soft, apologetic whimpers as I look around the terrace for Sheba. “Sheba? Here, Sheba. Be a good boy and come here.”

  Please, please don’t let him be on the neighbor’s side of the terrace, I pray inwardly, but the sound of his barking is coming from exactly there.

  I check Jackson’s balcony from the edge of the railing, and cringe when I see Sheba, playing beside one of the terra cotta flower pots.

  “Stop, Sheba! Come here, boy,” I call to the little menace, clicking my tongue for extra emphasis.

  I’m flustered and frustrated. He’s been so obedient up until now. Why won’t he come? Sheba turns his fluffy little doggy head and looks at me, but doesn’t move an inch. Correction. He bends his back legs, then his tail raises in defiance as his one back leg raises. No. Oh no. He’s not doing what I think he’s about to do.

  Crap.

  Oh yes he is.

  Sheba proceeds to pee beside the potted plant, leaving a hot, steaming puddle right in the middle of Jackson’s terrace. It’s steaming because out here is freaking cold, and all I’m wearing is a bathrobe. I didn’t even think to put on my slippers.

  “Sheba! Bad dog! Come here right now!” I shriek.

  In my panicked state, I hold on to the partition and swing one leg, then the other, over the ledge to step onto Jackson’s balcony. Checking my pocket, I let out a sigh of relief when my hand grasps a bundle of facial tissues I stuffed in there the last time I used my bathrobe. Thank goodness. I need to clean up this mess and get this naughty little pooch back to Vivian’s before the grumpy guy next door shows up and goes off the deep—

  “What the fuck is going on out here?”

  The sound of Jackson’s voice booming out from his sliding door behind me causes me to freeze, just as my tissue-covered fingers begin to sop up Sheba’s handiwork.

  Shit.

  “Uh, I uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Knight,” I say tilting only my head to look at him from my bent over position. “It looks worse than it really is. Sheba got out again, and just had a little…accident.”

  I manage to wipe it all up, closing the drier sides of the tissue papers around to cover the wetter center. Then I notice the droplets of water that fell from my soaking wet hair. Jeez. Maybe he won’t see.

  “There,” I chime out. “All good now. If you don’t mind me coming back in a few minutes, I’ll clean and sanitize the spot with some disinfecting pine cleaner.”

  He doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me, eyes narrow, with an icy glint in his stare. I can tell he’s not the least bit happy. One hand is fisted at his side, while the other has a death grip on the sliding door handle.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  Then Sheba outdoes himself, making things worse for me by running up to Jackson and licking his expensive shoes. Then he humps Jackson’s ankle.

  I’m so dead.

  “Come here right now, Sheba!” I hiss through gritted teeth.

  Jackson glowers down at Sheba, but remains cold and silent. He’s probably swearing an endless string of profanity in his head, and the scowl on his face says plenty.

  I approach him and pick up Sheba with my free hand. “I’m very sorry about this, Mr. Knight. It won’t happen again,” I assure him, although I have no way of knowing how I’ll make good on such a promise, short of barricading the sliding door so Daisy can’t open it for Sheba to get out again.

  As I straighten up with Sheba cradled in one arm and the tissue paper with his wet little accident in the other, I notice Jackson’s eyes move from my face, down to about breast level. My body shivers from his stare. Or it may just be that I’m cold.

  It’s the cold, all right.

  And partial nudity.

  Aww hell.

  In my haste to take care of what Sheba just did, the bathrobe’s tie belt loosened from my waist and exposed almost my entire body, from neck to knee. I can’t even begin to hold back my embarrassment. Heat burns my cheeks when I remember that my hands are full. Clearing my throat and swallowing hard, I do what I can to at least cover some of my nakedness by using my forearm and elbow to push the plush fabric forward. Jackson is not the least bit shy. He continues to pierce a hot trail down my body, all the way to my feet, then back up, stopping at my hips, stomach, and breasts before connecting with my eyes again.

  “Take your mutt home. Now.”

  Turning away from him, I start to walk across the terrace toward Vivian’s side of the balcony.

  “Not that way, for Christ’s sake,” he barks, raking masculine yet well-manicured fingers through his thick, dark, perfectly combed-back hair. “It’s dangerous. I can’t have anyone falling to their death from my balcony.”

  “But, that’s the way I came,” I nervously inform him, ignoring his comment about my potential demise. I throw the wad of tissues over to Vivian’s side so I can dispose of it once I’m safely on the correct side of this terrace. Closing my bathrobe, I turn to him. “Mr. Knight, sorry, but I won’t be able to get into Vivian’s apartment if I go through the front door. It’s locked…I wasn’t thinking. Gosh, I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he shouts. “Just come inside. I’ll phone the concierge desk security guards. They have a master key to every unit.”

  He steps to one side, leaving just enough room for me to get in from the cold. Peering into the lavish space, my first impression is that his condo unit must be twice as large as Vivian’s. It’s enormous, and tastefully decorated with masculine tones of neutral creams, tans and browns.

  As I place one foot inside, my elbow brushes against the back of his hand resting on the door. My breath catches in my throat. What on earth was that? The moment I touched him, something transfers from his skin to mine and hits me like a freight train, spreading electricity through me so unexpectedly that I jerk away. I can’t explain what that was. Maybe attraction. Or lust. Or desire. That’s a first for me. I didn’t experience anything like that while making out with Noel Ashton, the only guy I dated in high school. We got to second base. Once. Maybe that’s why we never tried again. Chemistry was sorely lacking.

  Jackson further surprises me by extending his arm across the opening of the doorway, blocking me from entering. “This is your last warning,” He says in a menacing baritone.

  “Excuse me?” I ask in almost a whisper.

  “Keep your mutt off my property. That’s not a request.”

  “I will,” I assure him.

  “Good, because if it happens again, one way or another, I’ll make sure you pay.”

  How am I supposed to respond to that?

  “Last warning,” he repeats. “Or you’ll be punished.”

  “I’m… I’m not sure I understand,” I stammer.

  Keeping his arm out, he leans just his head closer to me, so close I can smell the expensive cologne wafting from somewher
e around his jaw. “Don’t let it happen again, doll. Or I won’t hesitate to make you pay.”

  No fitting answer comes to mind. I mean, does this rich guy understand that I’m a student, scraping by to get an education, and that my parents are working class farmers, practically destitute by his standards? Still, his threat has an effect on me. I make a promise to myself that the second I get back to Vivian’s, the balcony doors are going on lockdown. I don’t care what I have to use—chain-link fencing, padlocks, chicken coop wire mesh.

  Whatever it takes to avoid the wrath of Jackson Knight.

  5

  Jackson

  She’s tempting fate being here.

  I want to tell her that, but have to keep the thought to myself as I stare down at her barely legal naked body under that half-open bathrobe. Bare feet, vulnerable and gorgeous. Does she even know what she’s doing to me, standing there, her hair dripping wet, her body scented like honey and sweet innocence, and those bright guilt-ridden eyes pleading for me to pardon the fact that she’s trespassing on my property?

  Moving my arm out of her way, I let her in and close the door behind me.

  “Follow me.” I slide my phone from my pocket and pull up the concierge desk number in my contact list. “Have a seat,” I tell her when we pass through the living room, and her dog jumps into her lap when she sits down.

  Her timing is impeccably bad, considering that my brother, Jace, is waiting for me in my study. Leaving them alone here is the only option. Jace is probably about to charge through my place and demand that I drop everything to focus on his reason for being here. I make a quick call downstairs, and the person who answers at the concierge desk assures me they’ll send someone up with keys to let Dahlia into Vivian’s place. After I hang up, I step into the study.

  Jace gives me a hard look as I return to the study. “We have a fucking problem.”

  “What?”

  “Mont Blanc Holdings isn’t everything it’s been selling itself to be. It’s more.”

  “What do you mean, more? Isn’t more better?”

  He passes me his smartphone. “Sometimes more can be worse. Like in this case. Remember that forensic investigator Dylan told me to hire so we can look into them more closely? Check out what he found.”

  I scroll through the report on Jace’s phone, but nothing makes sense. “What the fuck am I supposed to be reading here?”

  “Mont Blanc is one of the only hedge fund firms I know of that own two non-financial subsidiaries, except they’re both buried behind three layers of shell corporations. Pantheon Research and Triple Shield Security Group. Take a wild guess on what they do.”

  “Security is my guess for Triple Shield. Not sure about Pantheon.”

  “Get this. Pantheon is a pharmaceutical company, specializing in generic radiation therapy treatments and medications.”

  “You don’t mean for—”

  “Cancer treatments,” he finishes the sentence for me, because he knows how much of a hang-up I’ve had about the big C since it stole any chance of having a mother past seventeen years of age.

  “I don’t get it. Why would Mont Blanc have a hundred percent ownership of a company like that?”

  Jace doesn’t get a chance to answer. The doorbell rings.

  “Hang on,” I tell him. “I’ll get rid of the girl.”

  Jace leans forward in his seat. “What girl? You’ve got someone here? How the fuck can you think about pussy at a time like this?”

  I get up and start walking toward the door closest to the foyer. “Will you shut the hell up? That’s not how it is. I’ll explain in a minute.”

  Dahlia is already answering the front door when I get out into the hallway. Cradling her dog in her arms, she looks back at me, gives me a hesitant nod, and leaves with the bellman.

  “Okay they’re gone,” I tell Jace, who’s standing at the far end of the foyer, checking out Dahlia.

  “They? There were more than one of them?”

  “Fuck no. That was the neighbor’s pet sitter, all right? Vivian’s goddamned pack of hounds can’t seem to stay on their side of the fucking terrace. Just forget about it. I want to know how Mont Blanc would want to get their hands in the day-to-day operations of a pharmaceutical company.”

  Jace accepts my explanation about Dahlia, and re-focuses on our acquisition deal. “Probably the same reason they own Triple Shield Security.”

  “Which is?”

  “I don’t fucking know.” He leans forward in the armchair and crosses his legs, supporting his head of sandy brown hair with one arm at his temple as he thinks. “The fact that they own Triple Shield is even more of a mystery. This security firm has a bunch of government defense contracts. Weapons development, geospatial technologies, even an outfit that trains private militia in Eastern Europe, Central Africa, and some parts of the Middle East.”

  “That makes no fucking sense,” I say. This new information is all coming from left field. Shock and confusion don’t begin to describe what I’m thinking about right now.

  “Exactly. What the hell is a hedge fund company doing dabbling in cancer drug manufacturing? How in the fuck can it be in any part of a weapons or military supply chain? Triple Shield is practically supplying private armies internationally. It doesn’t even make sense. We can’t acquire a firm that’s coloring outside the lines.”

  “Jace, fuck, that’s not even coloring outside the lines. They threw out the box of crayons and the canvas, and are shooting fucking paintball guns on the SECs doorstep. Are you sure this forensics guy got his intel right?”

  “Positive.”

  “Fuck.” I can’t wrap my head around this news. “Does Dad know?”

  “Not yet. I’ll loop him in. And Gerald too.” He stretches his arm out toward me. “Give me back my phone. I’ll tell Gerald to meet me at Dad’s place. We’ll put an end to this. Tonight.”

  “Hang on, Jace,” I mutter as I hand over his phone. The mention of Gerald’s name plays on my already distraught thoughts. “That consulting firm Gerald used to run…didn’t it have a whole section devoted to security consulting for the US government?”

  He nods with the recollection as he scrolls through his phone, probably looking for Gerald’s name in his contact list. “It did. And the law firm he’s used for years manages pharmaceutical and medical research companies.”

  “I don’t know if I like the coincidence.”

  Jace stares over at me, almost in disbelief as he connects the dots. “Shit. You can’t be thinking—”

  “It has to be. Gerald or someone in his consulting firm must know about these Mont Blanc subsidiaries.”

  “Are you out of your mind? What you’re suggesting is… it’s fucked up.”

  “Why would you put it past him? If Gerald knows and is still pushing the acquisition, there’s only one reason he’d do that.”

  “You’re suggesting that one of Dad’s oldest friends is setting us up.” Jace bolts up to his feet and begins to pace in front of the fireplace. “No. That’s just…I can’t accept that.”

  “Come on, think about it.”

  “If Gerald wanted to fuck with us, he could have done it years ago. But now? It doesn’t make sense. He’ll have a major interest in the acquisition. This can hurt him just as much as our firm.”

  “All I’m saying is Gerald has to know something,” I tell him. “And if he does, we need to figure out why he didn’t disclose it, why he still wants in, and what’s his end game.”

  “All the more reason to get him and Dad in the same room with us so we can get to the bottom of it.”

  “That’s a bad idea. Come on, Jace. You know how Gerald gets when he’s confronted. Especially in front of our old man.”

  “There’s no good reason why we shouldn’t walk away from this deal right now.” Jace punches the inside of one hand with the other fist. “I’ve never trusted that smug, conniving bastard.”

  “I don’t either, but our father does. And if we face off with him in
front of Dad, dear old Dad’s bound to side with him. And this deal will be signed, sealed and delivered in no time.”

  “True,” he agrees, staring absently at a spot on the mantle. “How do you think we should approach this?”

  “Ask the investigator to do some more digging. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some of these answers ourselves…and get some insight into how Gerald’s involved.”

  “All right.”

  “And we’ll both keep stalling at the bargaining table,” I add, with eyebrows raised.

  “Good.” He checks the clock on the far wall above my bookshelves. “Shit. Seven fifteen. I’ve got reservations at Chez Gigi’s.”

  “What? Hot date with Cherry?” I tease.

  “Fuck off.” Jace doesn’t acknowledge the question. He doesn’t even look my way, because he’s secretly been running around town with Dad’s assistant, who also happens to be Gerald’s youngest daughter. Under normal circumstances, their dating might not be a big deal, but Dad has always had rules about mixing business with our personal lives. Cherry’s off limits.

  “Hey, maybe she knows something about this Mont Blanc shit show.”

  “No way in hell. Gerald doesn’t tell her a thing about how he runs his business. You know how old school he is. Just like how Dad acts sometimes.”

  “He’ll find out what you’re up to soon enough, you know?” I muse.

  “Well I’m not talking, and Cherry isn’t, so he’ll only find out if you say something.”

  I shake my head. “Do I look like I give two fucks that you’re banging Dad’s secretary? I’m just saying. Manhattan isn’t that big of a place. You’re the one who’s dumb enough to take her out in public to places where Dad and his buddies go. It’s only a matter of time before someone sees you and tell him, or the two of you end up seated at adjacent tables with Dad, at the same restaurant, on the same fucking night.”

  “That’s not gonna happen.”

  I follow him as he heads out into the main hallway and turns to get to the front door. “I hope it doesn’t, for your sake. Or for Cherry’s sake. Dad won’t hesitate to throw her out on her ass if he finds out.”