Seducing My Best Friend (Alphalicious Billionaires 4)

“Oh, your poor spoiled boss,” Sydney retorted because she was so past being done with the bossy butler type dude. Turned out he was a grade A asshole. “He has all the money in the world. Cars. Houses. Freakin’ whatever he wants, he can get. I don’t think he’ll be disappointed that a girl he grew up with and never bothered to get in contact with since we graduated, wrote something stupid online in a drunk moment of blacked-out weakness that she doesn’t even remember. Go tell him to find a supermodel. I guarantee she’ll have better tits.”

Sydney swore she almost had Francis not Francis smiling. He somehow hung on to a shred of decorum and turned his near amusement back into a crinkly frown that ruffled his brow and etched the corners of his eyes into deep lines.

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“About yourself in third person?”

“No. Never. Look. I just want to go home. Drive me there and leave me. Tell your boss that I’m not interested, and I made a mistake. That I was blacked out and I would never, in any sane or rational moment, ever put something like that out there.”

“That’s so? Maybe it was your subconscious talking.”

“Or maybe it was the drink.”

“Maybe it wasn’t.”

“Can you just drive me home?” Sydney crossed her arms over her chest. She pushed out her lips in a petulant pout.

“Nope. You dug yourself in. You’ll dig yourself out. I’m not going to be the one to go back to Philly and break that poor kid’s heart.”

“I’m sure. I’m sure he’d be really heartbroken.”

Something in the back of her aching brain tugged and fuzzed, like the way the hairs stand up on the back of a person’s arms. Her brain was doing that. Minus the hair. And the arm. It felt weird, like the old dude’s words brought something to the surface that she’d never really thought about and didn’t want to begin thinking about.

“I’m taking you to the airport now. You’ll like the jet.”

She let out a growl that had absolutely no effect, as Francis not Francis seemed pretty damn happy with himself. He turned around in his seat, put the SUV in gear and guided them back into traffic.

All she could do was pout.

A few hours later, when the jet landed in Philly, Sydney had to admit that he was right, the old bastard who basically had kidnapped her and not listened to a single word of protest or reason. She had enjoyed the jet. It was pretty sweet flying in a private plane.

She actually resigned herself on the ride over to what she assumed was Jesse’s house. She’d go there, tell him it was all a mistake, make him understand, and demand he fly her back home. She wouldn’t even have to tell her mom that she was gone. She didn’t want to tell her a single thing, because she knew her mom had always really liked Jesse. Like, way too much. More than she even liked her some days.

Except that it wasn’t Jesse waiting for her on the front lawn of a house that the words like massive, sprawling, and even mansion did little to describe. The area is brand new, a suburb for the rich and maybe even the famous, a gated community with houses that sprang up out of the ground like granite mountains.

It was his mom and dad, and oh yeah, those were definitely tears of straight fucking joy leaking down his mom’s face.

Sydney leaned back against the seat with a groan.

She was so royally effed.

CHAPTER 5

Jesse

He had been waiting an hour for the car to pull up. Martin texted as soon as the plane landed, so he wasn’t sure what the heck took them so long to pull up.

He couldn’t believe it when he rushed to the door and found his parents standing on the front lawn. Parents. As in plural. With an S.

Jesse barely restrained a groan before he ripped open the door. “Mom?” He called to her just as Martin got out of the SUV. He heard the slam of the driver’s side door. “What the heck are you doing here?” he hissed under his breath, so that only his parents could hear him and his voice wouldn’t travel to the street, or, god forbid, to any of the neighbors. The last thing he needed was a bored housewife leaning out her window, yelling things down at them or recording the whole thing in hopes of getting somewhat internet famous. “I thought I told you to stay away and let me work this out!”

Of course, his mom was standing there on the lawn crying. Leaking real tears of joy down her cheeks. Her hands were clasped so tight that her knuckles were white. There was a radiant flush riding high on her cheekbones. His father looked skeptical, doubtful, and pissed off that he’d been dragged away from his afternoon golf game or sports watching or newspaper reading, to come down and take part in what promised to be nothing short of complete and utter drama.