The Billionaires (Lover's Triangle 1)

“Yes. I have one for Scarlet, too. For all the work you both do for me that you won’t accept a salary for.”

“Because it’s not a job, Jewel. It’s a hobby. A very exciting one for me and Scarlet. And let’s face it, if we didn’t have the opportunity to do all this intriguing research for you, we’d be mindlessly marathon-streaming every series on Netflix and never leave our living rooms.”

“Be that as it may,” Jewel reiterated, “I appreciate your efforts, and CE has benefited greatly. I’m trying to pay it forward here, my friend. It’s the right thing to do. So take the money. You earned it, Bay.”

Bayli stared at the check. There was no doubt it tempted her. But she was a prideful person. So, of course, she had reservations. Which Jewel respected. She’d never had to stress over finances and parental medical expenses herself. And everything she’d done for Bayli to try to help her out had to be built around something other than a loan or a gift. Even crowdfunding donations went against Bayli’s grain. Until she’d been too destitute to refuse help from a community that embraced her.

Bayli asked, “You really have a check for Scarlet, too?”

“Yes. This isn’t any sort of charity or rescue mission. Bay, I swear I won the money playing craps. Vin and Rogen will attest to it.”

Bayli gnawed her bottom lip for a few moments. Then let out a long sigh. “I could really use this, Jewel.”

Jewel’s heart constricted. She fought tears. She knew better than to get emotional with Bayli, because it would make her friend feel weak. Which she wasn’t. In fact, Bayli Styles was one of the strongest, most compassionate women Jewel knew. Scarlet topped that list as well.

Yet, Bayli struggled with her own feelings. She pulled in a few deep breaths before lifting her head and meeting Jewel’s gaze again. “This more than covers the research I’ve done. Keep asking me to help you, Jewel. But don’t bring me checks like this again.”

“Gotcha.” They embraced once more.

Jewel continued to do everything in her power to hold her emotions inside. She understood pride. Hadn’t she been so disappointed in herself when Rogen had told her his father would renege on their deal? And had instantly been consumed with humiliation that Gian, Rose-Marie, Rogen, and Vin might all think her a fool for attempting to negotiate for the land?

She so got Bayli’s need to make things happen for herself. It was a similar sentiment that drove Jewel to realize the dream of building an inn and possibly bringing her and Rogen’s parents back together.

She spent a little time catching up with Bayli while the jet was fueled and the caterers stocked the galley. Rogen and Vin joined them, and Bayli had as much trouble dragging her gaze from the men as Jewel did.

When the plane was ready, the men boarded.

Bayli asked Jewel, “How do you keep your hands off them?”

“Who says I do?” She winked.

“Jewel!”

She dropped a quick peck on Bayli’s cheek, then said, “I’ll let you and Scarlet know when I have the scotch. Thanks again.”

Jewel crossed the narrow red carpet laid out before the steps to the Gulfstream and entered the cabin. Once they reached cruising altitude, Melinda served dinner. Then Jewel wrapped up a little more work, as Rogen and Vin did.

When exhaustion overcame her, she moved to the couch along the opposite side of the aisle and curled up with a blanket. She drifted off with all the risqué thoughts of Rogen and Vin that they’d tried to dissuade her from, but which she suspected taunted their minds as well …

SEVENTEEN

Ahh, Paris …

Jewel took a quick shower, did her hair and makeup, and changed into leggings, a mock-turtleneck sweater, and suede ankle boots—all in black—before the plane made its descent. Rogen and Vin had cleaned up as well and the trio took a limo into the city.

Jewel loved Paris. Every corner they turned was more beautiful than the last, with the gorgeous white buildings and the elegant blue rooftops. The black wrought-iron-scrolled balcony railings and the flowing sheer curtains covering terrace doors. The plazas with shooting fountains, trimmed with lush green grass and vibrant flowers, and bistros with awnings over the patios and boasting tons of outdoor seating.

There were singletons typing away on laptops, likely hoping to capture the essence of Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, or F. Scott Fitzgerald. Friends celebrating life with wine and decadent desserts. Lovers huddled close, staring deep into each other’s eyes.

Jewel admired them all. There was something magical and magnetic about Paris. Something ethereal that warmed her. Called to her romantic side.

And here she was. With Rogen. With Vin. Both of whom had displayed not only alpha tendencies that turned her on but also tender ones that touched her heart.

Yet Jewel couldn’t get caught up in all of that at the moment. Her first order of business was the scotch, and she tried to concentrate on this latest and extremely critical transaction. Not the beautiful indulgence of Paris that lay before them.

The limo passed through tall gates of a gorgeous mansion that should rightfully be included on the registry of palaces for all its opulence. But it was much too modern, despite having been loosely modeled after the famed Fontainebleau. No royalty had resided within these walls. Still, the never-ending alabaster marble, sculpted columns and enviable paintings, chandeliers, and accent pieces were breathtaking.

Jewel, Rogen, and Vin were escorted through the lavish entryway, through patio doors, and to a verdant courtyard where Arnaud Barnier greeted them. He did the double-cheek kiss ritual with Jewel and shook hands with Rogen and Vin.