A One Night Stand With the Billionaire (Taming The Bad Boy Billionaire 5)

Ugh. Ugh...and gross.

As if it was some sort of perfectly choreographed stage play, the two men settled down in the tall leather chairs and folded one leg across the other with an air of professional prestige. The conversation, however, was anything but.

“Hey, what ever happened to Kimberly?” Peter asked, wearing a slight frown. “That was her name, wasn’t it? That short brunette with the incredible ass.”

Robert leaned back and chuckled. “Oh, I still see Kim from time to time. Her sister Monica is a bit taller, but I must say that incredible asses must run in their family.”

“Monica!” Peter laughed as he tilted dangerously on the back two legs of the chair, looking like the epitome of every so-called bro I’d ever hated in school. “I remember her. Isn’t she the one with the—”

“The hyperactive gag reflex? Right.”

Oh my god! Are they serious right now? The vengeance of the sisterhood welled inside me, and my face screwed up with rage. I wonder how their gag reflexes would be if I choked them both to death?

“What about you?” Robert asked with a curious tilt of his head. “Have you finally decided to get back in the ring, or are you still pining after Madison?”

My ears perked up when I heard my partner’s name, and I couldn’t help but lean closer to the door.

Peter sighed. “That woman’s a lost cause, I’m afraid. I’ve tried everything...flowers, chocolates, the works. Still, I can’t even get her to look my way. Hell, man, I even offered to buy her a car!”

That’s right, Madi! Hold your ground, girl! A wave of triumph gleamed in my eyes as I realized Madison had put the douchebag in his place.

“Now, her new friend, on the other hand...” Peter let out a low whistle. “You know the one, the brunette with the long hair. That hot little yank’s got some real potential.”

No sooner had my mouth fallen open in dismay than Robert leaned forward in his chair and sternly laid his claim: “Hands off that one. She’s all mine.”

Part of me was awash with relief, because Robert would spare me the jerk’s unwanted advances, but another part couldn’t help but bristle against a possessive declaration from a man who’d just banged another woman on his desk.

“What, already?” Peter leaned back in surprise, automatically submitting to his friend’s instant demand. “She’s only been here a few days. You sure work fast.”

Robert’s eyes glittered as he reached in his desk and pulled out two cigars. He kept one for himself, and passed the other across the desk. “What can I say? I can’t let a body like that go to waste.”

The two broke out in loud, boisterous laughter at that, but I just shrank farther back in the closet, my eyes welling with tears. The rage had subsided, only to be replaced with a profound feeling of hurt. Robert Cross wasn’t the man I remembered, the man who’d kissed me across the knuckles and swept back my hair. He was not the same guy who’d held open every door we went through and wrapped his arms around me as we gazed up at the stars. The man sitting at that desk outside that closet door was a dog, not the chivalrous fantasy man who’d given me the most unforgettable night of my life.

Did I really misjudge him so badly? Was it really just an act?

Those questions continued running through my head that evening as I trudged across the bridge, stomping through puddles to return to my little apartment on the opposite shore. The river churned below me, and the rain came down in sheets, like a reminder of the sadness and anger within me as dark thunderclouds rolled in up ahead.

By the time I traversed the bridge, my hair was stuck to my back in wet strips and plastered to the sides of my ivory cheeks in bedraggled little curls. Madison’s dress was safe beneath my heavy trench coat, but the rest of me was soaked to the bone. I manage to flinch just out of range as every passing car sent a spray of more water rocketing toward me, but I was so caught up in my own little hell that I didn’t even realize it when someone called my name.

“Hey!”

An empty coffee cup flew through the air and struck me in the back.

“Head’s up!”

I only knew one person who threw things to get people’s attention. I also only knew one person in London who was aware that I lived on the other side of the bridge. “Madison?” I muttered as I turned around to see her beckoning wildly from an open cab window. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Little drops of rain flew into her face as she cupped her eyes protectively over her hands. “What the hell am I doing here?” she countered. “Protecting my dress, that’s what.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s an expensive dress But it’s not wet.”

“Yet...”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“Walking in the rain sure makes you grumpy. I’m kidding. Okay? Listen, I’m the sane one, the one who decided it’s not wise to drown herself walking across the Thames in a hurricane. What the hell are you doing?”

I threw my hands up in a gesture of pathetic defeat. “Well, I’m sure as hell not singing in the rain. If you must know, I’m busy feeling very sorry for myself,” I snapped, raising my voice a little so she could hear me over Mother Nature’s temper tantrum. “Also, we both know damn well that under no circumstances would you ever, ever be described as the sane one.”