The Billion Heir (Billionaire Book Club #1) Page 2

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. I still wasn’t clear on why it mattered, other than the prospect of a lawsuit. There had to be more.

  “I have a vested interest in seeing where the money goes. There are things I’d like to change.”

  Well, that wasn’t enigmatic at all. Maybe he did have the potential to be a billionaire type. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit that he was well spoken, mostly; in addition to being a young Brad Pitt lookalike. I wondered what he would change, other than maybe his boots.

  “We all have things we’d like to change,” I murmured.

  He hummed and leaned in again, watching me closely. “You still like to party, Alexis?”

  “My party days are over, Mr. Knox.”

  “That’s a damn shame. I think it would be a lot of fun to hang out with you.”

  I shivered as his voice lowered. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  He pointed at me. “You’re right. And neither do you.”

  Surely he meant that I didn’t know anything about him, but it was also true about myself. That was the problem. I’d tried so hard to reinvent myself that I wasn’t always sure who I was anymore.

  Was I the motherless socialite whose father lost thousands of people’s life savings?

  Was I the spoiled wild child who made a dumb mistake and video sexted my first and only boyfriend?

  Was I the mercenary fame whore who released the brief and shaky video herself in return for much-needed money and years of humiliation and regret?

  Or was I now the grown woman trying to make a normal living and live a normal life with it? Maybe that was why Cohen had called me—he already knew I was capable of transformation.

  Lucas Knox shuffled closer to where I sat, his fingers laced together loosely between his thighs. Only the corner of the glass coffee table and two armrests came between us. If I reached out, I could trace the colorful lines on his arms.

  “Who do you think I am, Miss Kincaid? What kind of man am I, in your opinion?”

  In a conversation full of direct questions, this one threw me the most. “I—I think…” I trailed off, suddenly unsure of myself, unsure of him.

  On the surface, he appeared to be exactly the kind of devil-may-care bad boy that made pulses flutter and panties damp. Selfish, reckless, stupid, cocky. The kind of man that you didn’t take home to meet your parents, but met clandestinely against brick walls in dark corners for all the wrong reasons.

  Or was he?

  His blue eyes cut into me like a laser as he continued, “Because I could say that you’re a pampered society whore who spends her free time Twittering and then has the balls to charge people for her own amusement.”

  Something in my chest burst and split open, like a rotten piece of fruit. That was what he thought of me from one meeting and an old thirty-second video? Well, Lex, have you given him any reason to think differently? I asked myself. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those kinds of insults, but for some reason it stung more coming from his smirking mouth.

  “But I’d be wrong,” Lucas said, “wouldn’t I?”

  I blinked back tears until my vision cleared and I saw the earnest look on his face. His breath was hot on my face as he leaned closer. He radiated heat and smelled like freshly laundered cotton, but his black t-shirt looked like he’d been wearing it for two days already. In short, he was a hot mess.

  He tugged at the sleeve of my designer knock-off jacket thoughtfully. “Yeah, I might be wrong. Maybe you’re wrong about me, too.”

  The noise that emerged from my throat was noncommittal. When he rubbed his thumbs over my wrists my skin tingled, and I felt an overwhelming urge to snatch my hands back. But I remained still, only my hands trembling.

  He stuck out his hand, his forearm flexing as he squeezed his fist then spread out his fingers. “Let’s try this again. I’m Luke Knox. And I hate to say it, but I think we could help each other.”

  There was little doubt that we could. I just needed to get over myself. And under him—no, Lexi, no!

  It was pretty straightforward, actually. I needed the money and access to new potential clients. He needed a corporate makeover so he could do whatever it was he was planning with two billion dollars. Of course, I didn’t know what that was, but I wasn’t too worried as long as it wasn’t sharks with laser beams attached to their heads.

  My breath shook a little as I exhaled. “What do you need?”

  His fingers wrapped around mine in an unrelenting handshake. “Everything,” he said, his gaze as fiery as his touch. “Whatever you can give me.”

  “I’ll give you what I can.” It was the truth. I would do my best, and try to ignore how much he affected me. “Social media. Sound bites. The right clothes and the right people in the right places.”

  He offered me a rueful grin. “I’ve spent most of my life trying to fly under the radar. This is all pretty new to me.”

  We both had a lot riding on this, but when I made no move to extricate my hand I wondered if I had more to lose—like my head. “Okay, Mister Knox.”

  He tilted his head. “Luke.”

  I blushed. “I guess you can call me Lexi. We’ve got work to do, Luke. But you should know that I believe there’s no such thing as bad publicity.” I’d staked my future on that a long time ago.

  There was a wicked gleam in his eye. “And you should know that I dress to the right.”

  Reflexively I looked down at his crotch. Yes, he did.

  Chapter Three

  Luke

  “You know when I said there was no such thing as bad publicity, Luke? It wasn’t a challenge. This is not Celebrity Survivor. This is your life, and my livelihood.”

  Could have fooled me. In the last three weeks of dealing with lawyers and bankers and advisers and consultants, I’d discovered that there were rats everywhere and pretty much everyone wanted to vote me off the island.

  Lexi stood in front of me, her raincoat open to reveal a pale blue sweater and a pair of tight jeans. A bright silk scarf was tied around her neck. Raindrops shone in her hair and sprinkled to her shoulders when she put her hands on her hips and shook her head. Her cheeks were flushed with anger.

  In short, she looked hot.

  “I know you’re frustrated—”

  I snorted. “Yep.”

  She had no idea. Especially considering she was the reason half the time. I hadn’t showered twice a day since freshman year.

  She sighed. “But did you have to hit him?”

  “Yep.”

  Stepping closer to the cell, she hissed at me under her breath, “In the balls? Really?”

  “Yep.” Tuxedos were easier to move in than I’d thought. Hell, if James Bond could do it…

  She threw up her hands. “I give up! You’re hopeless. You seem determined to undo everything we’ve been working on. You don’t understand how quickly stories like this can spread. ‘The ball busting oil baron,’ that’s what they’ll call you.”

  I snickered. “Well, now you’re busting my balls.”

  With an exasperated huff, she spun around and leaned back against the bars. “Luke, TMZ is outside.”

  “Really?” That was kind of a shock. I wasn’t a celebrity. Why would they—oh. “Shit.” She was the celebrity.

  “Yep,” she mimicked me.

  I was so close to her that the dampness in her hair tickled my chin when she banged her head against the bars.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I meant it, but the stupid fucker asked for it, with his snide comments about needing Sexy Lexi as my “handler” and what else she “handled.” I wasn’t about to share that information with her, though. I valued my balls a lot more than I valued my cousin’s. I felt shitty about my impulsive decision pulling her back into the spotlight, though.

  “Cohen posted your bond. I’ve got a car out back. This is not how I planned to spend my Saturday night.”

  My gut curdled. “Hot date?”

  “Yeah, with my laptop.�
�

  “Party girl.”

  “Yokel,” she shot back.

  Somehow in the past couple of weeks we’d learned how to work together. Well, sort of. She’d suggest changes to my image or show me social media accounts she was maneuvering on my behalf. And then I’d fuck it up somehow. It’s not like I was posting dick pics or anything behind her back, just some political views.

  Apparently, however, public figures weren’t supposed to be public about things on Twitter. I didn’t get it. The president could post anything that jumped into his brain at three in the morning, but the second I badmouth a rival company for their labor practices a shitstorm rains down on me.

  Every time we met the sparks between us lit up like fireflies on a summer evening. We argued, negotiated and occasionally agreed on stuff, and I always, always went back to my hotel with a painful hard-on.

  At first my attraction to her was purely physical. Nobody would blame me—she was tall, blonde, and had more curves and eddies than a lazy river. Alexis Kincaid was not the bimbo I thought she was, though. I’d never known a woman like her before. The only problem was that she never let me forget it.

  “This is not going to become a habit, right?”

  The door clanked behind me as a bailiff let me out. “What?”

  “Bailing your ass out of jail.”

  I tilted my head. “What, you got better things to do with my ass?”

  Her growl made me chuckle. Maybe, just maybe part of me pushed her buttons because it was fun to watch her get spitting mad.

  After I retrieved my wallet, phone, belt and bow tie—yes, they took the bow tie that went with my tux—she led me through a maze of hallways toward the back doors.

  “Car’s not here yet.” She checked her phone, then looked up and me and blinked, as though seeing me for the first time. “Uh, you look good.” Her gaze slipped down to my chest and bright spots burned high on her cheekbones.

  I shrugged my shoulders. With the jacket open and the top few buttons of the starched shirt undone, it wasn’t so bad dressing like a douchebag penguin. At least the loose pants hid the erection that always threatened me around her.

  “Well, if you gotta junk punch somebody do it with class, right?”

  Her eyes rolled up. “Yeah, real classy.”

  “That’s me.”

  She slipped the bow tie from my pocket and looped it around my neck, barely suppressing a giggle. I wished she’d do it again, so I could lock the sound in my memory bank.

  “They took your tie?” Her eyes were focused on my neck. If I put my arms out we would be embracing.

  “Yeah, guess they were afraid I’d hang myself in the holding cell or something.” I snorted. “I can’t even tie the damn thing.”

  Fiddling with my collar, she whisked the tie back and forth with an audible swish. Her fingertips raised goosebumps on my neck as she tried to adjust me into something resembling an upstanding citizen. Her closeness was intoxicating.

  Every day I noticed something different about her, something unexpected. Like the fact that the designer scarves she wore were probably older than her, or that the diamond studs in her ears were barely specks. Or that she took her cream and sugar with a little coffee.

  Every day I edged closer to her, wanting to unravel all her secrets. At the moment she was unraveling me.

  It wasn’t until she started buttoning my shirt back up that I grabbed her wrist.

  “Stop it.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked up at me. “I’m just trying to—”

  “Yeah, honey, I know. But you’re going in the wrong direction.” I wished she were undoing my buttons—all of them.

  Flirting with her had become second nature. The first time I leaned over her while she opened accounts for me on her laptop, the tips of her ears turned pink and her shoulders stiffened.

  The second time was at the tailor. All I got were fucking suits and nooses in the form of pinstriped ties. I managed to convince her that I was uncomfortable with a dude taking my inseam measurement and only she could do it. I didn’t really think she’d do it, but she called my blush. I think her whole body blushed as she dropped to her knees in front of me and ran her hands up my thigh.

  There was no escaping that I was very, very attracted to Alexis Kincaid. Scratch that. I wanted to fuck her against every vertical—and horizontal—surface in Manhattan, maybe even all five boroughs. But what had begun as just lust was shifting into genuine curiosity and admiration.

  She was a tough nut to crack, but I’d let her crack my nuts any time she damn well pleased.

  Ignoring the chaos of the precinct around us, Lexi crossed the ends of the bow tie around my neck and pretended to strangle me. “You’re impossible.”

  “No, I’m very, very possible. Try me.” I flashed her a grin.

  Her lips quirked as she stared at my chest, her fingers still on my buttons. “I’m not getting paid enough for this,” she muttered as her phone chirped. “That must be the car.”

  Cool air and unspoken promises swirled between us as she stepped away from me to usher me out the door into the rain. I gallantly held the car door open for her. She jumped in and twisted around, her trench coat trapped underneath her.

  “Get in, get in,” she urged from the back seat. “This is no time to be a gentleman!”

  “Well, if you say so.” I hopped in the back seat beside her, already damp from the spring shower. She didn’t scoot back that much, leaving us close together. In the darkness of the car, her knees touched mine. We both paused, a fragile bubble of anticipation around us in the quiet of the car. I heard, rather than saw her lick her lips, and her breath was short and shaky. It was about damn time.

  “Luke—”

  “You said it was no time to be a gentleman,” I reminded her, before covering her mouth with mine.

  She tasted like red wine, making me wonder what exactly she’d been doing all evening. Maybe she had been out with someone? Jealousy burned in my chest and she squeaked when I pulled her closer. Her mouth opened easily under mine, her tongue tentatively touching mine.

  It was like she knew this was going to happen; it was just a matter of time and opportunity. Hell, not even opportunity would stop me now. I’d kiss her anywhere and anywhen I damned well wanted to, after tasting her for the first time. I wanted to swallow her up, smother her until all the high society bullshit had been squeezed out of her and all that was left was pure, wanting woman.

  “You taste like champagne,” she said against my lips. Maybe I’d had too much, because everything was going to my head at that moment. She didn’t pull away, though, allowing me to deepen the kiss with a groan.

  Her hands went to my shoulders, sending a tremor down my spine. I bent her back, intent on nibbling my way down her throat but her goddamn scarf was in the way. She tasted sweet and flowery, like fresh honeycomb.

  How had I waited this long to taste her?

  “Lexi, you are so sexy.”

  She stilled in my arms.

  “Yeah, Sexy Lexi, right.” Dropping her hands, she retreated to the opposite corner of the car and buttoned up her trench coat all the way up to the knot in her scarf. She buttoned her expression up at the same time.

  “Alexis—”

  She ignored me, leaning forward to give the driver directions to my hotel near the park. Right, the driver. I’d been so consumed by her that I’d forgotten he was sitting right there.

  Was kissing her a mistake? Probably, but I didn’t regret it. Nor was it the first stupid thing I’d done. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable in both my tuxedo pants and my own skin. One was too tight, and the other was too hot, but damned if I knew which was which.

  Her phone rang again as I opened my mouth to say—what, I didn’t know.

  If I thought her body language was awkward before, it was nothing to when she looked at the call display. Her entire body turned to stone as she turned her face toward the window and answered.

  “Hello?” She stopped
to listen. “What? When? How many?” Her head snapped around, her eyes wild as they met my curious gaze in the strobe lights of passing cars on the busy street.

  I grasped her knee, my chest tight. Something was wrong. “What is it?”

  She told whoever was on the other end that she was on her way then redirected the driver. “Get over to the FDR,” she urged, giving him an address somewhere way uptown. We sped up a little, turning towards the river.

  “Alexis. What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry, Luke, I don’t have time to drop you at your hotel,” she said dully, staring out the window. The rain spattered against the glass, the drops skidding along like they were racing each other.

  “Fuck my hotel!” I squeezed her knee. “What the hell is going on?”

  She glanced down at my hand on her thigh, but didn’t shove it off. Instead she twisted around until my hand slipped off. Turning her back on me, she rested her forehead against the window. Her breath fogged up the glass, but she was so close that I couldn’t see her reflection.

  The only sound in the car was the wiper blades on the windshield. We both swayed back and forth with the stop and start traffic on the way to the highway.

  I tried again. “Lex—”

  “Not everything is about you, Lucas,” she bit out. “But your little stunt tonight put me back in the spotlight in the worst possible way. So forgive me if I’m a little distracted. I’ll have the car take you back when we get there.”

  Get where? TMZ at the police station wasn’t the worst part of the evening? She was practically vibrating with anxiety, her shoulders hunched up near her ears. Her mouth kept twisting and contorting, like she was chewing the insides of her cheeks until they were raw.

  We finally stopped in a No Parking zone in front of a fair-sized building in a No Parking zone, where a handful of people hovered outside on the sidewalk. Lexi swore under her breath. Her fingers worried the lock on the door, like she was trying to decide whether she was going to get out or stay in and hide.

  “Reporters?” I was genuinely confused. I scanned the street and buildings. “But you don’t live up here. Do you?”