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

“Until now.” Colin gingerly patted her knee. “You have your own place, angel. You have two adoring friends … probably others, but I’m sure they’re nowhere near as brilliant and wonderful as Phillip and me.”

She let out a soft laugh as a tear crested her eye.

Colin added, “And for fuck’s sake, you clearly have a man in your life you have yet to tell us about.”

Her head snapped up and she stared at him. “How the hell do you know that?”

Phillip snorted beside her. Colin rolled his light-brown eyes. “The love bites, angel. The love bites.”

“The what?”

She jumped up and crossed to a mirror hanging over a beautifully decorated table. And gaped. One side of her neck was black-and-blue. Hickeys scattered from her jaw to her collarbone.

Her stomach flipped excitedly when it should have roiled from the markings. The branding.

“Oh, shit.” She turned back to her friends.

They both flashed Cheshire cat grins.

“Spill, already,” Colin sweetly demanded.

“I—” She shook her head. “I—”

“Phillip, be a dear and get this lovely lady who obviously got laid earlier this evening another glass of wine.”

Bayli knew better than to protest. A half hour later the three were in the kitchen while the chicken rested and Colin fussed over the side dishes. Bayli continued to provide every juicy detail. Talk about singing for her supper …

She decided to stay for dinner after all, since Colin had planned on her being there and Phillip insisted she stick around to meet their Oxford pals. That turned into a lively affair that had her less agitated about her encounter with Rory, though Colin could be counted on to throw out a few zingers here and there to bring to mind exactly what Rory had done to her—and exactly what he wanted to do to her. Which wove an enchanting spell on her that both thrilled and worried her.

Granted, the percentage of worry diminished greatly as the party raged on. So that by the end of the evening she was wondering yet again why she’d made such a big deal out of anal sex and why the hell she’d let her vulnerabilities get the best of her.

Of course, that very well could have been the wine clouding her judgement. Phillip and Colin had to practically pour her into a cab. They’d wanted her to stay overnight for safekeeping, but she’d assured them she’d be fine. And she was.

Would continue to be.

If she could just get her feet steadily beneath her and figure out what the hell she really wanted with, or from, the sexy restaurateur and the angsty chef …

ELEVEN

Christian had paperwork sprawled before him at a table in the dining room of Davila’s NYC on Monday afternoon when Lily Madison swept in, dressed to the nines as was her custom and cloaked in her signature Chanel No. 5 scent.

“Special delivery,” she announced with the grand gesture of handing over a sealed nine-by-thirteen-inch envelope. “You said you wanted it immediately.”

“Yes, thank you.” He took the thick packet from his assistant, an attractive blonde with siren-red nails and a flair for the dramatic. A woman he’d engaged in recreational sex with, though Lily tended to substitute “monogamous” for “recreational” when it came to him. Regardless of Christian having never led her to believe they were an exclusive item.

She’d come on to him at a Christmas party three years ago in their Miami office. The orgasms had been great and he’d enjoyed the extra attention to detail she’d exhibited thereafter with corporate affairs, while she’d liked all the perks that came with sleeping with the boss, including traveling by private jet when he needed her and being put up in five-star hotels with a hefty expense account. Her bonuses typically had an extra zero tacked on to them as well.

She slid gracefully into the seat across from him, her pale-green eyes flitting over the documents he’d been studying when she’d sauntered in. “What’s all this?” she asked. “I don’t recall making copies of any of it for you.”

“No, I printed everything at home from my computer,” he said, slightly distracted now that he had the contract from Bayli’s agency in hand. The packet Lily had brought with her had arrived at his office quicker than he’d anticipated. Then again, the terms he’d negotiated for Bayli’s services were astoundingly in favor of the model, so it wasn’t a tremendous surprise her legal representation had jumped on the formalities to ensure the deal was sealed before anything went awry that might make the verbal agreement implode.

Lily gave him a brief run-down of office happenings, but there was nothing pressing to contend with at the moment, aside from this cooking-show idea that was burning a hole in his brain. He wanted to get things under way. No, it

wasn’t the be-all-end-all concept, but that didn’t actually matter this time around, and he suspected the premise would evolve into something even greater along the way. Perhaps incorporating a competition among local chefs. Currently, it was the gregarious personality who would appear before audiences that was driving him to get the ball rolling.

Bayli was going to be an overnight sensation. He could feel it in his bones. And Christian had the very powerful desire and prodigious opportunity to be the one to deliver her to the masses.

He wanted his and Rory’s business venture to soar, sure. But a more potent aspiration had become introducing Bayli Styles to the world—launching her career and seeing just how far she’d go.