My Sadistic Billionaire - Wicked First Love

“Of course.”

Lane bit her lip, knowing that Angelo was only being polite. It was clear in his gaze he was still unconvinced. Taking a deep breath, she said, “You’ve never asked me why I want to attend to your parties.”

“Because you’re jealous,” he answered promptly.

She winced. “That’s true, but that’s not the only reason, or even the most important one.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“I want to be a part of your life,” she said simply.

Dylan took one look at Angelo’s face when his friend came back and said sympathetically, “That bad?”

It was only when they were clearly out of the girl’s earshot did Angelo speak, but it was not at all what the rockstar expected.

“Lane has a certified phobia of rich people.”

Dylan blinked. That was definitely one for the books as well.

“But she tells me she wants to attend tonight’s party.” Angelo shoved his hands in his trousers’ pockets. “If you were in my position, would you let her?”

As they turned the corner and took the stairs leading to the basement, Dylan said slowly, “It depends why she wants to go.”

“According to Lane, it’s because—-” Angelo’s tone took a self-mocking note. “—-it’s a part of my life.”

Ah. Dylan glanced at his friend. “You do know what that means, don’t you?”

Angelo frowned. “What?”

The rockstar halted in his tracks. “You clearly don’t.” He shook his head, thinking that Angelo reminded him too much of his old self. “She loves you—-”

That word again, Angelo thought.

He said mildly, “Have I mentioned that we’ve only—-” He paused, needing to search for the proper word to describe what he had with Lane. “—-we’ve only started seeing each other a few days ago?”

But Dylan only shrugged. “Bree knew she loved me the first time we met. I didn’t, but I already knew she was special, even back then.” He looked at his friend. “So you tell me, man. Is she special to you?”

Angelo’s lips tightened.

And that, Dylan thought, was his answer, and whether Angelo knew or not was immaterial. “Just out of curiosity,” Dylan murmured, “how do you stop her from going to your party anyway? You had one last night, right? Do you tell someone at the gates not to let her in?”

“She lives here.”

Dylan was stunned. “I see.”

“And if I don’t want her to go to the party, I lock her up.”

“And she lets you?” When Angelo only looked at him, Dylan’s eyes widened in understanding. That innocent-looking girl was a masochist?

He clapped his hand over Angelo’s back. “You lucky bastard.”

Angelo was bemused. “Lucky for what?”

“For finding the one you’ve been looking for years,” Dylan answered easily. “She’s your perfect match, man. So if she wants to go to your party, I say let her, and she might surprise you.”

Chapter Thirteen

“This is such a bad idea,” Julieta said direly for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. Granted, it wasn’t as bad as the time Signor V locked Lane in her room and stood her up, but—-

It was still bad.

Feeling sick to her stomach at the look on her friend’s face, Lane protested, “You’re making things worse.”

Julieta stared stonily at her friend, who for once did not look like she had been styled by a blind, man-hating prude. In her pretty silk dress, Lane’s beauty was actually allowed to shine, her dark curls tumbling down her bare back, her brown eyes made bigger and deeper by her mascara.

It was just too bad Lane could only see her date through security cameras.

The thought made Lane’s scowl worsen.

Damn you, Angelo Valencia.

“Can’t you just smile,” Lane begged. “Please?”

Julieta bared her teeth.

“Umm, never mind.” Lane nervously shifted in her seat, using her feet to swivel her chair from left to right. The guards normally manning the mansion’s control room had been temporarily reassigned, allowing Julieta and Lane to view tonight’s party in private.

Twelve sixty-four-inch screens were mounted on the wall in rows of four. They showed every section of the house, with the camera in the receiving area revealing Angelo standing tall and gorgeous in a dark suit while he spoke with his secretary.

Hopeless, Julieta thought as she watched Lane sigh like a lovesick fool at TV-version-Angelo.

Lane suddenly shot up in her seat, exclaiming nervously, “The gates are starting to open!”

And so they were, she thought darkly, which meant tonight’s party had officially begun.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and thought for the nth time, This is such a bad idea.

Limousines, sports cars, and high-end SUVs filled the driveway, offloading their passengers one by one.

Her first glimpse of the kind of guests that Angelo welcomed had her sighing in relief. Oh my gosh, thank you. She closed her eyes in brief prayer.

Everyone looked so decent, like A-list celebrities dressed for the Oscars, chatting lightly and laughing with each other. A magnificent red carpet had been rolled out on the stairway, and the guests followed the trail until they reached the basement, which had been set up tonight to resemble an Egyptian courtroom.