Going Down Hard (Billionaire Bad Boys 3)

“Wait. What?”

She strode over to him, lifted herself onto her tiptoes, and pressed a kiss on his lips. A soft, fleeting kiss that felt suspiciously like good-bye. In a very final way.

“I’m sorry. Please tell your mother that too. I’m sorry that bringing me into your life caused such incredible pain.”

“Cassie,” he said in a deep voice he barely recognized. “What aren’t you saying?”

She shook her head, eyes full of tears. “I need to go confront my brother. And you need to think about whether it’s worth having me in your life, because I can guarantee you, Spencer won’t stop if we’re together. And you deserve a lot more than a life of humiliation.” She started for the door.

And because he was stark naked and really did need to make sure his mother prepared for any fallout, he had no choice but to let Cassie go.

For now.

* * *

Cassie went from flying on top of the world to dragging at the bottom. She couldn’t believe her brother could do something so low, so underhanded … so uncaring and awful. He’d betrayed his sister, hurt people Cassie cared about, and showed his true colors in a spectacular way.

She’d had one blissful night with Derek, sharing their feelings, believing in hope for the future, only to have everything shattered in the light of day.

She couldn’t stay with him. She had to confront her sibling, and Derek needed to think. She shuddered at the possibility of him leaving her, but could she really blame him if he did?

She left his place and took a cab to Penn Station, a train to her parents’ local stop, and an Uber to the street she’d grown up on. The trip gave her time alone to think and stew, for her anger to brew and grow.

She went immediately to her old home, assuming she’d find her brother there. She banged on the door, hit the doorbell, and banged again, well aware her brother wasn’t a morning person.

She started the process all over again, knocking hard on the door with her knuckles when Spencer flung the door open wide. He wore jeans and nothing else, his hair stood up on end, and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Jesus, Cass, what the hell?”

She pushed past him and walked inside, not surprised to see in the short time he’d lived there he’d already put his own masculine touches on her once feminine home. Dark leather replaced her lighter touch, and there were no pretty plants around either. But this wasn’t a call to discuss his choice in décor any more than it was a social call.

“How dare you. Where did you get the nerve to run a story in my magazine without my approval? And you chose the subject you knew I had plans for!” she said, her voice rising. “You played dirty. You went into the mud and rolled around in it with people I care about, in a magazine that isn’t a gossip rag. How fucking dare you?” she asked, pushing hard at his shoulders to make her point.

“I need coffee for this,” he muttered. Unfazed by her outburst, he turned his back on her and headed for the kitchen.

“Want coffee?” he asked, as if this were a normal morning between them.

“No! I want answers!”

He popped a K-Cup into his single coffee brewer and turned to face her. “It was a damn good article. Did you read it?”

“Oh my God.” It was like dealing with her father but on steroids. Christopher heard and did what he wanted, and his son was no different, except Spencer left severe damage in his wake. “Let’s take this one thing at a time. Why did you steal the subject of my article?”

“You snooze, you lose.” The coffeemaker let out a hiss of steam, and Spencer turned to add milk to his cup. He swung back to her and raised his cup in a mock toast. “To me. Because you wouldn’t have hit on the important points. You’d have extolled the virtues of the gardener’s kid and ignored where he came from and the family scandal. In other words, all the good stuff.”

It was obvious she wasn’t going to get anywhere with him on the subject of poaching her article, so she turned to truthfulness instead. “Marie didn’t steal from Mom.”

Spencer took a sip of coffee. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because my gut tells me so. I trust her. I knew her and so did you! She was there for us growing up.”

“Sit down, Cassie. I’m going to explain the facts of life to you,” he said in a cool, condescending tone.

She blinked, taken off guard by his change in tone. She lowered herself into a chair at his table, listening only because she needed the information. Not because he’d told her what to do. “I’m listening.”

“You’re a Storms. He’s nothing. Your loyalty is to your family, something you seem to have forgotten. I’m going to make sure you don’t.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Ignoring the elitist crap in what you said, what’s your point?”