Billionaire Daddy's Virgin Page 7

  “Do you think Kaden’s going to be here?” she asks.

  “Anything’s possible. Just avoid eye contact if he shows up. He’ll have enough sorority sisters wanting a piece of him to keep him busy. Let’s get the second batch of food ready.”

  She follows me back to the kitchen as I send a group text to thank the volunteers and update my soro president. “When do you think it’ll get busy?”

  “Anytime now. People will start trickling in, and before we know it, it’ll go from dead as a doornail to killer packed.”

  Vanessa smiles. “I’m ready for this!”

  I groan, looking down at the floor. “I should have shown up in my foldable flats. My feet are killing me already.”

  She grins. “Suck it up, buttercup. You need your practice.”

  “Like a hole in the head.”

  She gazes down at my shoes. “It’s a few hours. You’ll manage.”

  “I’m not like you, girlfriend. I’m not built for these…glam-girl shenanigans.”

  “You’ll thank me one day,” she says confidently.

  “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  A virtual conga line of soro sisters stream into the kitchen from the back door as I’m dumping two shopping bags of celery into the sink to start rinsing and separating. This bunch is from next door. Many of them are the ‘it-girls’ on the college party scene. I personally know at least half of them.

  I smile.

  There’s lemonade to be made from these sour stuck-up bitches.

  “Welcome, ladies. Great timing!” I tell them. The more ladies occupying the main party area, the better for me. I point a celery stick at the corridor leading to the living area slash dance floor. “Drinks and snacks are out there. Remember to take and post lots of pics on your pages. And don’t forget to tag Michelle so the guys know the charity that tonight’s donations will go to.”

  They barely manage a few distracted nods as they sashay their sexy little asses through the room, but these ladies know how our events run. Quid pro quo is the name of the game, so if they don’t help out, we’ll just return the favor for their mixer night. Sure enough, my phone starts to buzz non-stop with Instagram and Snapchat alerts. They’re tagging me and Michelle tonight, already plastering their newsfeeds and walls with food and booze pics, their designer dresses and shoes, and their suggested DJ playlist for the night.

  Perfect.

  Within an hour there won’t be breathing room in here. I can’t wait for this place to get in full swing, so I can relax and have a few drinks in a quiet corner somewhere.

  I’m adding a third punch bowl to the beverages table when I stop short. Someone familiar darts past me out of the corner of my eye.

  Jace saunters in.

  My blood starts to boil.

  Motherfucker.

  11

  Jace

  This is not the time for my dick to stir in my pants.

  I’m here at this sorority house for one reason, and it does not include raking my eyes over every square inch of Cherry’s gorgeous body. She’s at the drinks table when I arrive, cleaning up after these half-drunk party people who tend to leave a trail between every food source and their mouths.

  Seeing her across the room, I almost forget why I’m here. I’m supposed to find Vanessa, Dylan’s sister, and tell her that he’s been in a car accident. It’s minor, but everyone in her family except her is at the hospital emergency room. And as no one was able to reach her by phone, I’m here to pass along the message. And it was a good call that her mother suggested I check Vanessa’s sorority house first, because here she is.

  The only unexpected bonus is that Cherry’s here too.

  And although we haven’t spoken since that night she turned eighteen, seeing her now, I instantly need a taste before I leave here.

  Making a quick stop to Vanessa, I’m about to let her know about Dylan when I end up surrounded by a bunch of familiar female faces who run in our crowd. They’re all dressed to the nines, yet holding on to the usual college kegger styled red plastic cups, filled with beer or something stronger. These girls are pretty young, but I’m sure I’ve seen a bunch of them with either Jackson or his friend, Caleb. Most of the familiar faces get closer, tittering on flirtatiously about God knows what. The rest just stand there staring up at me in awe. Or maybe they’re hopeful that they’ll get to knock boots with a Knights brother as we’re a limited commodity around these parts. As my time is limited, I give them all a quick nod and head over to Vanessa.

  I pass along the news, making a point to note that his injury’s minor. She doesn’t have her car at this shindig, so I agree to drive her to St. Grace-Mercy Hospital where Dylan’s being treated. Following her across the room, I wait for her to tell Cherry before leaving, and I probably stand way too close to her while Vanessa whispers the information to her. Cherry’s so busy neatening up the food tables that she doesn’t sense I’m there when I step up behind her. After what went down that night I deflowered her then kicked her to the curb for her own good, I should keep my hands to myself. She probably hates my guts.

  But I don’t hate her.

  It’s the opposite.

  The sex we had that night is in a league of its own. In the three years since we’ve been staying out of each other’s way, no woman has measured up to Cherry. Which is a problem, because I wasn’t keeping track before her.

  I shouldn’t dare touch her, but fuck it. I want her. Resting my hands on the sides of her waist, I pull her toward me and act like there’s no love lost between us.

  “Guess who, sexy?” I groan out close to her ear, unable to resist pulling the soft flesh of her earlobe between my teeth. Her breath hitches once she realizes it’s me, and fuck, my cock is already straining against my jeans, pressing against the small of her back and begging to come out and spend time in her sweet playground.

  “Jace.” She turns and looks up at me, giving me a pasted-on smile that must only be for the benefit of the party people around us. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she says through clenched teeth.

  “I just stopped by to get some information to your bestie. But hell, I’m glad we bumped into each other. You look great. And I heard happy birthday is in order.”

  “Happy birthday? Really Jace? After that…” she shakes her head and takes a breath. “Thanks.”

  It’s clear to me she doesn’t want to cause a scene. Knowing that detail gives me an advantage. Making full use of the moment, I run my hand through her hair and lean down to her ear again. “Do you have any idea how much I’d like to take this dress off you right now?” I whisper.

  She bats her eyes up at me, wrapping her arms around my neck as she relaxes her body into mine. “I guess I have some idea. And you know what?”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re the last person on the planet I’d get naked for, Jace Knight,” she coos into my ear. Not that anyone can hear a word we say over the loud music.

  “You’re still upset about what happened?”

  Cherry takes a step back and resumes her focus on the drinks table. “Maybe you should go now, Jace.”

  I tried. Can’t blame her for holding my actions against me. Reaching into the pocket of my dress slacks, I check the time on my phone screen. “Yeah. Take care, Cherry.”

  She looks back at Vanessa, ignoring me. “Tell Dylan I’m sorry to hear about his accident and even more sorry that I can’t be there for him.”

  Vanessa puts an arm around Cherry’s shoulder and pulls her in for a brief hug. “It’s all right. I’ll text you when I know more.” Cherry doesn’t look my way again.

  I can be all bent out of shape about the tables turning—she’s rejecting me the way I’d done to her over and over again in the past—but I’m not.

  All that rage she has tells me one thing.

  Cherry’s not over me yet.

  Which is good, because I’m not done with her either.

  12

  Cherry

  Jace couldn’t
have been any clearer when he warned me that there wouldn’t be a second time for us. He’s not interested in me, but I didn’t think he’d let that night pass without at least trying to apologize for what he did. It took years for our paths to cross in a way that would allow for any communication at the soro party. Mostly because I kept my distance from him, the same way he’s done to me all along. Mind you, it took everything in me to show up at his door when I turned eighteen. And after such a twisted end to that night, I couldn’t stand to give him the time of day ever again.

  Almost five months after the soro party, it’s my best friend, Vanessa’s poor driving that brings us face to face in the least expected place.

  I grip the over-the-door handle of the rear passenger seat as Vanessa takes us home from the movies. Vanessa has always been a bit crazy behind the wheel. Actually, so has her brother, Dylan. Our monthly movie date at the cinemas near Liberty State Park, New Jersey, has been a tradition for the two of us since I turned fifteen, but I have to admit, today was the least fun. It had less to do with the movie than my state of mind for most of this week. I’m in my senior year, about to finish a combined undergraduate degree majoring in Environmental Studies and Business. Except I only found out a few days ago that my winter semester internship gig at Fennmann’s Environmental Research Management, a large multi-national environmental research firm, just fell through.

  It’s a disaster.

  It means that on top of losing out on the on the job experience, I’m going to have to work a miracle to find a new assignment. It’s the only way I can graduate as planned this coming April. The problem is everyone who can help turn this around assumes I’m better off working for my father. That’s never gonna happen. I promised myself I’d never work for his firm while he’s still running it, and I’m sure as hell not going to ask him for help on this particular front. Dad’s business style is ruthless and cold. He also has a broad definition of business ethics. Broad to the point of nonexistent.

  “Don’t lose hope,” Vanessa says. She takes a bend in the winding road at the same speed as the straightaway, and I have to grip the over the door handle to keep from sliding over to her. Even with my seatbelt on. “I’m sure between our dads, my mom, and Dylan’s friends, we’ll come up with something.”

  I notice that she slipped my father into the equation, but I continue to ignore it. She knows where I stand on working for Dad. “I’m not sure I have as much faith as you do,” I reply. “Think about it. All the assignments that are still open at this point in the game probably suck.”

  “Last-minute assignments happen all the time.”

  “I’m just bummed that this one fell through. It was perfect for me, you know? I was really looking forward to working with that company.”

  “You know it couldn’t be helped. Didn’t you tell me they really wanted you?”

  I shrug and absently look out the window at the thick, lush darkness of park forest whizzing by. The speed demon beside me isn’t letting up at all. “Yeah. Wanted. Past tense. There were so many relocations out of state and to Europe, they were too short-staffed to devote any management resources to me.”

  “Well, that’s something. And really, you should still be a little grateful this didn’t happen halfway through the semester. That would leave you in a crappy situation. It’s happened before, and usually, those students end up having to take on a summer assignment to finish their degree.”

  I glance over at her optimistic face. “You’re sounding pretty positive that something like that can’t still happen to me.”

  “We’ll all do everything we can to help you. Knock on doors, kiss some ass, grovel, and all that shit. Besides, you can always swallow your pride and intern at your dad’s. Being there may be exactly what both of you need. Either way, try not to worry. Things always work out for the best.”

  “Maybe it does for you,” I grumble, rolling my eyes as I turn and peer out of my window again. “Oh, and do you mind slowing down a little? The roads are wet, and this fog is starting to get really thick out here. Can you even see outside?”

  “Cherry darling, I know these roads like the back of my hand. Relax and quit it with the back seat driving.”

  Shaking my head, I flick on the radio and look for a station that’s not playing classical pieces. I love my best friend to pieces, but because we just took in hours of a low-budget indie documentary about some philharmonic orchestra I never heard about before, I’ve had my fill of the classics. I face forward again, taking in the vague strip of road that her Ferrari’s headlights illuminate through the approaching grayish-white fog. As I relax in my seat and look out into the hazy darkness again, I swear there’s an object out in the middle of the road.

  “Vanessa! Stop!”

  “What’s wrong? You worry too much about my—” she starts, but is cut off by her own loud panicked gasp when she rolls over a bump as high as half the car tire.

  The car swerves sharply. She hits the brakes and tries to regain control, but she’s going way too fast. We end up coming to a stop almost a hundred feet up ahead in the opposite lane. Thank goodness the roads are practically dead right now.

  I unstrap my seatbelt and try to look out of the back windshield. There’s zero visibility with the fog. “Jeez, Van! Are you looking to get us killed?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t see… Are you okay?” she asks me, running shaky hands through her shoulder-length honey blonde hair and breathing heavily.

  “I’m fine. Do you know what we ran over?”

  “No idea.”

  “It was big.”

  “Not that big.”

  “I hope it wasn’t a wild animal.”

  “I don’t think so. Do you?”

  “I don’t know, but can you please get us off to the side of the road before a vehicle hits us head on?”

  She drives to the narrow gravel shoulder. Now, she’s driving slowly. Coming to a stop, she opens her car door. “I’ll go check what we hit, just to be sure.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I tell her, hopping out into the thickness of the foggy night.

  It’s completely silent, except for our out-of-control breathing and a few crickets nearby. We hurry to roughly about the spot where Vanessa lost control, and look both ways for headlights. The coast is clear, so we go to the center of the road and bend forward to search the ground.

  Jesus. I let out a little startled scream and grab Vanessa’s arm, pulling her backward. “It’s a snapping turtle. And not too tiny for this part of the state. It’s almost a foot and a half. Get back.”

  “Relax, Cherry. Let me take a look.”

  We both lean forward again, bending at the waist to examine the little creature. “You ran over a turtle,” I add for emphasis because Vanessa doesn’t seem concerned.

  “Aww crap. Well, I’m sure it’s still alive.”

  “It’s not moving at all. Not even a little bit, and look at the shell. It’s cracked down the middle.”

  “Shit. I didn’t see it on the road.”

  “Yeah. They’re well camouflaged, and there’s the fog, plus you were probably going at twice the goddamned speed limit!”

  “Damn.”

  “Let’s get back to the car. I have the number for New York State wildlife control on my phone. They can probably patch us through to their counterparts in New Jersey.”

  “Thank God.”

  “You’ve got to drive more carefully,” I lecture her as we return to the car. “I hope you feel bad for possibly lowering the turtle population by one.”

  “I didn’t mean to hit it. Plus, there’s no telling if I could avoid it at a slower speed, anyway.”

  “Next thing, you’ll be telling me that you probably saved the poor thing by speeding over it,” I add, my tone laced with sarcasm.

  She huffs out a laugh and gets into the driver seat. “I probably did.”

  “Bestie, you’re great in every other department…studious, friendly, motivated, even smart shopping. But you drive
like an amped up road-rager.”

  “I do not,” she tells me, switching on the overhead light. “Is your phone handy?”

  I pull mine from the side pocket of my purse. “Got it,” I tell her and pull up the number from my contact list.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try 9-1-1?”

  I give my best friend a sideways glance. “9-1-1? Seriously? Just relax. I’m calling the contact I have.”

  Vanessa listens as the call connects. I explain what happened, and the dispatcher gives me the Hoboken number I need. Of course, that number goes through to voicemail. We should have expected that no one would answer. It’s nighttime on the weekend.

  “What are we going to do now?” she asks after I leave a message and end the call.

  “Start the car. I’ll put him in the trunk. We’ll take him to the vet if we have to.”

  Vanessa stares at me and turns the key in the ignition. “There’s nothing we can do for him tonight.”

  “We’re not leaving it. You saw it yourself. You broke it’s back, for Christ’s sake. The poor thing is hurt and stuck in the middle of the road.”

  “I didn’t hit it intentionally,” she whines. “And how do you know we’re the first ones to hit it?”

  “How do you know we’re not?”

  Vanessa turns off the engine again. “Fine. Go on. I’ll wait here. I’d offer to drive us back to it, but I may end up hitting it or another one of God’s creatures!” she sing-songs for emphasis.

  I head back up the road toward the injured animal, ignoring Vanessa as she points out that I don’t have anything but my bare hands to pick up the turtle. A few moments later, I hear her car door click open and then her footsteps as she hurries in pursuit. The fog is slightly thinner now, and she makes it to my side just as I grab the turtle by the back half of its shell. Lifting it carefully, I do my best to avoid making the injury worse and to keep my fingers away from its mouth and front claws.