The Billionaires: The Bosses (Lover's Triangle 2)

He frowned. “I’d prefer you didn’t have to take the subway. Especially if you plan to wear anything that looks remotely like that dress.”

“I have one in mind,” she said suggestively. Christian Davila easily brought out the flirt in her.

Whereas Rory St. James … that man needed to be tamed.

Oh, what an enticing thought!

But not exactly a convenient one at the moment.

“I’ll make the arrangements.” Christian tapped the rim of his glass to hers again. “And know Rory will enjoy your company as much as I do.”

The hint of mischief in Christian’s eyes sent goose bumps along her arms. Thoughts of Jewel and her two men popped into Bayli’s head again, and a wave of exhilaration washed over her at the mere notion of both Christian and Rory “enjoying her company.”

What might that lead to?

It was probably all too dangerous a liaison to entertain, especially since she could end up with the door slammed in her face, after she’d just gotten her foot in. But, honestly, it’d been so long since she’d had sex, so long since she’d felt true gratification and satisfaction, that it just might take two men at once to sate her.

She sipped some more as the fantasy continued to blossom in her mind. Christian topped off her champagne, an expensive brand that tasted heavenly. She’d skipped dinner and was buzzing a little from the alcohol and the devilishly handsome man sitting next to her. By the time they’d reached Manhattan, she was regretting not having taken Christian up on his original offer to stop at his apartment. She didn’t need another drink, as his invitation had stated. But she was definitely in need of him.

It wasn’t just virility the man exuded … the pheromones were most certainly affecting her.

So, too, was the way he watched her closely. Leaned in when he spoke to her. Got her caught up in the private moments they shared in the back of his limo as he asked more about her and what other modeling jobs she’d had, which consisted of a few photo shoots for book covers and some stock images. Two clothing catalogs.

She told him, “I also did an entire ad campaign for the Wax Museum complex on the Wharf, back in San Francisco. The campaign targeted Japanese tourists. Apparently, I’m fairly popular in Asia. Received a bit of fan mail as a result, in fact.”

The majority had been extremely complimentary. Some, however, had been unsavory communiqués. E-mails from men looking for a bride, an adulterous Internet affair, the exchange of nude photos via text messaging, a meet-up when they were in town.

One guy in particular had been persistent enough—and downright lewd, suggesting they masturbate together over a Skype session—that she’d had to change her e-mail address. But Bayli figured that was the nature of the beast in this business. It wasn’t difficult to attract unwanted attention. And she wisely deduced that if one put herself out there like that, a few of the crazies were invariably going to make an attempt to get close to her.

Though Bayli had always lived a bit of a sheltered life—with most of her time spent in hospital waiting rooms and libraries where she’d studied up on her mother’s congenital heart disease—so she’d never been easily accessible.

Now that she was trying to get her career off the ground, she surmised it’d be advantageous to have more of a social media presence, despite the online stalkers. Her selfie count was tragically low. And she didn’t always have time to keep up with Facebook or Twitter. Just when she had news to impart, which she also posted to her Web site. A blog was in her future, she’d decided a few months ago. But nothing exciting had happened to her of late to inspire routine blogging, so she’d shelved the idea for now.

Christian said, “I can certainly see where you’d have an international appeal. That could work in your favor. You just need greater exposure.”

“Easier said than done,” she lamented. “Let’s be honest. I’m practically a dime a dozen in this city, and over-the-hill by global standards. Not to mention with so many actresses, singers, reality TV stars, and female athletes landing product endorsement deals it narrows the playing field for models. Which is why I’m so grateful for people like the Rutherfords who use professio

nals for various roles at an event.”

“You’re following your dream, Bayli. That’s admirable. And…” He grinned again, keeping her insides blazing. “You’re much too striking not to make it big. Plus, there’s so much more to your look than the physical aspects. You radiate a genuine, palpable sense of charm and grace. Very modern-day Audrey Hepburn.” He chuckled, a warm, rich sound that reverberated deep within her. Then he asked, “You do know who that is, right?”

Bayli playfully swatted his arm with her free hand. “Please. First, she’s iconic. Second, you’re only five years older than me. Which is a little disconcerting.”

His brow jumped. “I’m too old for you?”

“No!” She choked on a sip of champagne. Her cheeks flamed. “That’s not what I meant. I was just pointing out the obvious—I’m twenty-seven and trying to launch a modeling career. Since I’m a bookworm, you’d think I was much smarter than that. But what can I say? When the fire’s burning inside, you have to do something about it, right?”

Okay, perhaps she’d had a bit too much of the bubbly. She was spewing her guts here. But something about Christian Davila’s own inner fire called to her. Yes, he was ambitious and aggressive. And that excited her. Challenged her. Told her that committing to a dream was the only way to achieve it and if she never tried, if she gave up too soon … she’d regret it for the rest of her life. Never forgive herself.

Not that she wasn’t clever enough to know that sometimes a girl reached that point when it was time to hang up her ballet shoes. Yet Bayli didn’t think her time for that was now. She was just getting started, she mentally contended. Even if she was ten years behind in coming to New York. That had been unavoidable with her mother’s illness, because Bayli had refused to leave her side.

But in the long run, Bayli hadn’t been able to help save her mom’s life.

And now … here she was.

She intended to seize every moment, every opportunity offered. Take the bull by the horns, as she’d done tonight when she’d reserved that special cigar for Christian. A strategic move that was helping to pave her way with the hostess position she wanted.

For that matter, she wasn’t wholly convinced he’d had business with Jackson Rutherford while everyone was leaving, because it seemed pretty coincidental that she and Christian were the only ones left at the valet station.