Beddable Billionaire (Dirty Sexy Rich 2)

I paused to admire my work, pleased with myself. Maybe Nico wasn’t quite the narcissistic man-child with Peter Pan syndrome I’d initially thought, but like I’d said to Grady, Nico didn’t actually do anything to earn his millions; he was a trust-fund baby, and I had a hard time respecting someone who did nothing to support themselves.

My dad had been a hard worker, and I expected nothing less from other men.

So how’d I fall in love with Houston, another trust-fund kid? Chalk it up to being young and dumb, I supposed.

Not anymore. I took pride in my ability to weed out the undesirable disguised as handsome, worldly men.

I exhaled a little too heavily even as I was mentally patting myself on the back.

Made for lonely nights, that was for sure.

The city was filled with undesirables, as evidenced by my empty social calendar.

Out of my peripheral, Daphne made her way over to me, her eyes sparkling and practically bubbling with excitement. “You are never going to believe who I’m going to accompany to the Griffin Center dinner.” Daphne didn’t wait for an answer before she gushed, “Nico Donato!”

I smiled, trying for some mentorly advice. “Remember, this is a business function, so don’t let him put the moves on you. You’re representing Luxe. Take this opportunity to glean some fresh story leads. If you listen carefully enough once the champagne starts flowing, you’ll be surprised how easy it is to pick up leads.”

But Daphne wasn’t interested in career advice. “Okay, what do you think his favorite color is? I mean, black is always classy but a little funeral-ish, you know? How about a lemony yellow? I could totally rock a yellow dress, right?”

“Are you listening to me? This is not a date, and you’d do well to remember that fact. Nico is not going to fall head over heels in love with you. Likely, he’ll be super charming, throw around some useless facts about the wine and then try to kiss you. Just remember...you are one of many.”

Daphne made a sour face. “You are such a wet blanket. Haven’t you ever just wanted to have a good time? You are the oldest young person I’ve ever met.”

I balked. “I have plenty of fun. Loads of it, actually. I mean, crazy, wild fun, even. I just know when to do it appropriately.” Gahh, I sound like an old lady.

“That right there means you don’t have the slightest idea how to have fun.”

I forced a laugh, but her comment was starting to poke at a nerve I’d never realized was tender. Was that how the office viewed me? The fuddy-duddy? Embarrassment caused me to blurt, “I’ll have you know, I have a date the night of the event.”

Oh, good grief, why was I pushing that ridiculous lie?

“You have a date? Like an actual date?” Daphne asked, incredulous.

The fact that Daphne found my claim hard to believe was telling. Yep, I was the office matron. “Yes, and we’re going to Tochi’s for dinner.” I was going to hell for lying so blatantly, but I was already committed. If I wasn’t careful I’d end up scrounging in the restaurant’s back alley in the hopes of finding a tossed receipt that I could claim as my own for proof I’d been there. “I’m super excited. He’s an engineer.”

“What’s his name?”

I faltered. “Um, George.”

“George what?”

“George the engineer.”

“What’s his last name?” Daphne asked stubbornly.

“That’s personal.”

“I think you’re bluffing.”

I forced a laugh. “And why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty good at sniffing out bullshit, and something stinks.”

“Well, I have no reason to lie.” My ego disagrees. “Anyway, have fun, and please remember, you’re representing Luxe.” I paused, then suggested with only a dash of petty cattiness, “Wear the yellow,” because unlike Daphne’s inflated opinion of herself, she absolutely could not pull off a lemon yellow dress; it would make her look like a washed-out heroin addict.

And I was glad.

“Thanks,” Daphne said happily, forgetting about her bullshit meter. “Have fun on your date.”

The smile I’d held for Daphne’s benefit dropped like a ton of bricks as soon as she was gone.

Daphne was a pretty girl. Nico liked pretty girls.

And I didn’t care in the least.

Right?

Absolutely. In fact, I was totally looking forward to spending the evening cuddled up with my son, eating popcorn and watching Transformers (for the hundredth time). Maybe I’d splurge and order a pizza.

And maybe I’d wash it all down with a bottle of wine.

Yep, I sighed. Sounded like a solid plan.

A familiar—but solid—plan.

CHAPTER TEN

Nico

PATRICE WAS BLATHERING.

“Daphne is a great girl. I think you’ll really enjoy her company. She’s young and vibrant and so excited to spend an evening with you as your guest at the Griffin dinner event. Such an honor, really. Have I mentioned how excited we are at Luxe to feature you in our double issue? It’s such a coup.”

Who the hell was Daphne? No, strike that, I didn’t give two shits about Daphne because she wasn’t Lauren. I’d come down to the Luxe offices to confirm all the details, and this wasn’t what I’d had in mind. I cut through Patrice’s bullshit, kiss-ass routine like a hot knife through butter. “I thought we’d discussed you were sending Miss Hughes,” I reminded Patrice with a subtle frown. “I have an excellent rapport with Lauren, and I was looking forward to spending the evening with her.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately, she had a date already scheduled, and believe you me, if you knew how much that girl needs to loosen up, you’d understand why I couldn’t make her cancel.”

I looked at Patrice sharply. “She had a date?”

“Yes, some engineer. Said they got reservations at Tochi’s. Lucky girl, right? I’ve heard the reservations are a bear to obtain for anyone who isn’t royalty or a Donato,” she said with a patronizing wink.

I didn’t like the idea of Lauren dating anyone, and the fact that I didn’t like it gave me pause. Should I care if Lauren was dating? She was nothing to me except an intriguing side note. Except, it bothered me. A lot. “Well, good for her,” I murmured, seemingly in support but inside I was ordering a hit on the mystery man who wasn’t me. “Although, to

be honest, Tochi’s is a little overrated for my tastes. To each his own, I suppose. The chef is an insufferable prick.”

My thoughts churned even as I kept my expression neutral. Who was this asshole wooing Lauren? And what made him better than me? She was more than willing to turn me down—me, a Donato—and yet, she’d cut out to eat some mediocre Japanese food with some stranger?

I needed to know more about this engineer.

“Did she happen to mention a name?”

Patrice stared at me blankly. “A name? Who?”

“The name of Lauren’s engineer,” I answered, my patience thinning. “Surely, she must’ve mentioned a name.”

Patrice appeared confused by my interest. “Not really. Lauren and I aren’t exactly close. She’s an excellent reporter but a bit of a cold fish. Why?”

Lauren was anything but cold. I knew that firsthand. One just needed to know how to turn up the heat. And now I was irritated as fuck.

“I hate to be a stickler for details, but our understanding was that Lauren would accompany me to the event and Luxe would reap the benefit of a new advertising client with deep pockets. By my estimation, you haven’t held up your end of the bargain.”

Patrice tittered nervously. “I couldn’t exactly force her to attend the event with you without violating laws. This isn’t medieval London. Surely, you can understand that. I did the best that I could.”

But I wasn’t feeling generous. “Obviously, your best wasn’t good enough.”

An uncomfortable moment passed between us. Patrice realized I wasn’t kidding and paled, defending herself. “Mr. Donato, I assure you, I did my utmost to accommodate you in your request, but going beyond that would open Luxe up to a lawsuit.”

I didn’t care. I was too miffed about Lauren going out on a date with someone other than myself. But I supposed Patrice had a small point. I forced a smile. “Of course. I’m not accustomed to having people fail me. Forgive my manners. However, as much as it saddens me, I have to rescind my offer of patronage. If I were to forgive this incident, I believe it would set a precedent, which I feel would directly affect my family’s interests. Good day, Ms. Winneham.”