The BIllionaire and the Rock Star

He was gone before she could open her mouth to protest. All the while, Leif’s clueless laughter scraped against her ear drums as he changed the subject to Angela’s tattoos. Georgia tilted her head, staring into the crowd where Alaric had disappeared.

What had that been about?

?

Alaric burst into the cool evening air behind the club, the sweat along his neck instantly evaporating. He kicked at a metal dumpster and let loose a string of curses, imagining the dumpster to be Leif’s face. He’d been stupid to think he could slink back into this way of life without anyone from his past noticing.

All the work he’d done to separate himself from that party-boy lifestyle had gone up in flames in one evening. Now, the tabloids had pictures of him entering a club with another celebrity. What had he been thinking? That he could be different and take charge of his destiny? That the booze and wild times wouldn’t suck him back in like quicksand?

He was a fool.

The door to the club opened behind him and he swung around to see Georgia’s slim outline walking toward him. She’d donned a black blouse and sleek pleather pants with chunky red heels before they went out tonight. It was hard to keep his eyes off her. Even harder to keep his hands off her once they’d started playing it up for the cameras.

Alaric flushed thinking about her sitting on his lap, the soft floral scent of her hair, and the chills it gave him to touch her smooth skin. She was unbelievably sexy and exuding the kind of confidence that made him crazy. He was playing with fire, that was for sure.

“Are you okay?” she asked, taking a step toward him. Placing a hand on her hip, she cocked her head to one side and frowned. “You left our table awfully fast.”

“I wasn’t a big fan of the company.” Alaric spit out the words. “That muscle-head doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Yeah…” She pierced him with her green eyes and her lips parted slightly. “Well, if Leif doesn’t know what he’s talking about, then maybe you can explain it to me. What accident was he talking about?”

He curled his hands into tight fists and walked a few more feet down the darkened alley. It wasn’t like this was some international secret. If she took a few seconds to search his name on the Internet, there was no dou

bt she’d come up with a dozen or so articles describing, in finite detail, his life’s biggest mistake. It was better if it came from him. Especially, if they were going to be spending a lot of time together for the next few weeks.

“This used to be my life,” he said, pointing at the club. A tiny part of his soul ached. He wasn’t sure if it was from longing for the good old days or from shame. “When I moved to the West Coast to take my business to the next level, it sucked me in. Getting drunk every night with people I barely knew. People who didn’t really care about me. I started doing stupid things. I didn’t see how wrong it was until it was too late.”

He pressed his lips together, knowing that when he uttered the words on his tongue, he could never take them back. How would Georgia look at him again? Would she end their deal? He’d been on thin ice with his board ever since the accident. They’d surely fire him if this deal crumbled and he didn’t keep their stock prices up.

But he wouldn’t lie to her. That was the old Alaric Hammond.

“What happened to you?” Georgia stepped into the light cast by a nearby flickering sconce. Her eyes flashed with questions. “You can tell me.”

“Let’s just say, I shouldn’t have been driving that night.” Alaric kicked at the ground and sucked in his cheeks. Memories weighed heavily on his mind. “Two years ago, I left a club like this one on my motorcycle. The roads were slick from a recent rain. I was swerving through traffic and lost control. My bike went down. The young family in the van behind me tried to swerve, but we both went into the ditch.”

Georgia inhaled sharply and put a hand to her mouth. “Was everyone all right?”

“I could’ve killed somebody that night, but only by some crazy miracle everyone survived.” Alaric’s nostrils flared and he looked down at his leg. “The van rolled over my foot, pinning me. I nearly bled out in that ditch. Somehow, they got me free and saved my life, but the doctors couldn’t save my leg. So here I am, less of a man than I used to be.”

He pulled up his pant leg enough to flash the black graphite metal prosthesis. It was the very best money could buy. Light and flexible. Easy to move around in. But still a reminder that he’d nearly killed an innocent family that night because of his selfishness.

He hadn’t even done time, although he’d certainly deserved to be locked up. His company’s lawyers had come to the rescue and gotten him off with community service and a harsh warning. The justice system was a joke.

“That’s why you called yourself Metal Man on the matchmaking app.” Georgia took a step closer, the light glinting off her shiny hair. She looked up at him with wide eyes. “It all makes sense now.”

“Bingo,” he answered bitterly. Georgia Weber was no flake. He could already see that. If she was as smart as she seemed, she’d drop him here and now. She didn’t need that for her reputation. “I suppose our deal is off?”

“Deal?” She tilted her head as if she didn’t understand him.

“You’re free to dump me. I know we didn’t really come up with an out clause, but I’m pretty sure this qualifies as a legitimate reason to ditch the business deal. No hard feelings.”

If there was ever a moment he’d craved a drink since his accident, it was now. There was nothing quite like the dulling of alcohol on one’s disappointments. He buried his hands in his pockets, determined not to give in. He’d given that up and he wasn’t going back.

“Alaric, I’ve known you since high school,” Georgia said, drawing his gaze. A soft smile played on her lips. “And I don’t see any less of a man standing before me. In fact, it sounds like you’re a better man than the one who caused that accident so long ago. I’m not letting you out of our deal and that’s final.”

The tension in his jaw melted away and he was left staring at her, wondering if he’d totally misjudged Georgia Weber.

“Now, come on.” She walked confidently toward him and reached for his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. His skin burned under her touch, yet he didn’t pull away. “We don’t have to stay here any longer, but we do have to leave together if we want the paparazzi to believe us. Let’s ditch this place.”