Mr. Grayson: Billionaires’ Club Book 4 (Billionaires’ Club Series)

I’d just dozed off, buried in mini-snickers wrappers and kettle corn kernels, when my doorbell rang. It had been a nightmare of a week, exacerbated by my lies and half-truths. Even I was finding it hard to keep up with my many deceptions, and now my friends were going to call my bluff. It was only a matter of time before it all caught up with me in one way or the other, I guess. I might as well face the music; I’d created this mess, and keeping secrets from my friends was turning me into the worst version of myself. It was time for them to let me have it.

I paused my third comfort movie and rose to get the door. Knowing that only Nat, Sammy, or Cass would show up at my place around nine in the evening, I opted to get the door in my pajamas, braless. I was years past caring if my friends saw my nipples through my shirt, and they didn’t give a shit if my butt was hanging out of my shorts. After they saw me looking like this—my hair, thrown up in a knot with no makeup—they’d know that trying to convince me to go out with them was off the table even if I wasn’t sick.

I walked up to the door and opened it, covering my eyes, hoping to play up the sick and sleepy act. “You guys woke me up.”

“Jesus Christ, woman!” As soon as I heard his voice, I instinctively slammed the door shut in his face.

“What the fuck?” I said, shocked to hell by the face I saw when I uncovered my eyes. This cannot be fucking happening. There’s no fucking way Alexander is at my door.

“Um, are you okay?” Alex asked as he knocked on my door again. I reluctantly reopened the door, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet—and looking like it, too. “I have four bags for you. They’re filled with all the remedies I could find for a cold or the flu.” I could hear the humor in his voice.

“What are you doing here?” I eyed the paper bags he held by their handles, veins popping in his muscular arms. “And with all of this?”

“Well, I was invited to check out a club with my friends tonight,” he casually stepped past me as if I’d invited him in, “and there was a rumor circulating the place that you’re on your deathbed.”

I turned and started to follow him down into my living room when I spied the brochures the real estate agent had set out on my entryway table. I quickly snatched them and dumped them into the coat closet before rushing to meet him in my living room. I tried to seek comfort from the lights of Downtown Los Angeles from my wall of windows behind where Alex stood, but nothing in this scenario could ever fix the fact that I answered the door half-naked, looking like I’d barely survived a tornado.

I tried to cough and sniff, leaning into my fake sickness, but that only made Alex’s lips twist up in the sexiest way possible. Was I high on chocolate? This man shouldn’t be here, looking this sexy, and I couldn’t weasel my way out of the fake-illness lie if I tried.

“Well, well, Breanne Stone,” he said in a sly voice. “It appears you are quite the sick woman.”

“Seriously, Alex. Why are you, of all the goddamn people in my miserable life, in my home?”

“I heard my life-long partner is ill. How could I, in good conscience, have an enjoyable evening out with friends,” his face scrunched up as if he were solving the world’s largest mystery, “while you are home, your immune system positively wrecked by the stress you’ve been under all week?”

“Ah, so you’re here out of the goodness of your heart?” I asked.

“That and…” he eyed my shirt. “Well, yes, that.”

I crossed my arms, hiding my nipples from plain view, knowing he must’ve run into Cass and Nat at that club.

“You should go,” I said. “Thanks for the—” I stepped forward and peered into one of the bags, “vaporizer, I guess. And thanks for what seems to be every cold and flu remedy known to man. I prefer to be sick and miserable alone.”

“I prefer to take care of my business partner.” He smiled. “What will I ever do without you and your eyes on the new blueprints my architects have been working on for Saint John’s new pediatric wing?”

“You’ll manage. I’m sure that after I ingest all of this,” I waved my hand over the bags of cold and flu remedies, “I’ll be dancing into the office on Monday morning, and this head cold will be a distant memory.” I remembered to throw in a pathetic-sounding cough at the end of my statement for good measure.

“You are one horrible little liar; you know that?” He grinned at me knowingly.

Yeah, you have no idea the lies I’ve been feeding you since we first met, Buddy.

“I know,” I admitted. “Listen, I wasn’t in the mood to go clubbing tonight. I had a rougher day than I anticipated, sending off Theo and Stanton, and the club scene was not an appropriate cure for that.”

“I can imagine,” Alex seemed to egg me on. “They certainly didn’t have Snickers candy bars, kettle corn, or,” he pivoted back to my flat screen, where my television was paused, “The Wizard of Oz.” He said the movie title dramatically and with a hint of surprise, and his eyes were wide and as adorable as a goddamn puppy’s.

“That’s why I lied about being sick,” I said.

“You needed to stay home alone with the poor scarecrow who doesn’t have a brain?”

“And now,” I eyed him, “it appears the tin-man, who doesn’t have a heart, won’t leave even if I ask him nicely.”

“Comparing me to a heartless man in a tin suit now?” he laughed. “Now, that is one that I haven’t heard yet.”

“Alex, please leave,” I said. “Seriously, I have no idea why you’re here.”

As soon as I said the words, the power went out. Jesus Fucking Christ in Heaven, now the electric company is selling me out.

“Goddammit!” I seethed. “Well, I need to get to bed anyway.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the front door. “The power is probably out in the entire building,” I shoved him out the door. “It happens all the time. Thanks for the medicine. Good night.”

I slammed the door behind him and found myself in utter shock that I forgot about the last luxury I was losing by not paying my fucking bills.

There was only one knock before my temper flared, and I reopened the door. “Go home, Alex.”

Alex met me with an arched brow. “No. Not without you, anyway. Pack your stuff—the bras are optional—because you’re coming with me,” he said, using the flashlight on his phone to re-enter the condo. “Funny how the power is only out in the most expensive condo in this luxurious building.”

“Alex—”

“Tick-tock, sweetheart,” Alex snapped his fingers. “Time to grab your shit. Don’t worry; I’ll roleplay with you after we get you to a place where you can plug in this vaporizer for the nasty cold that’s got you on your fake deathbed.”

“Not in the mood to roleplay with you being my fiancé again,” I said.

“Not your fiancé. This time, I’m your priest, and you’re going to confess all your dirty little lies to me on the way to my place.”

“Hell no,” I said.

“You don’t have a choice,” he insisted. “You’re coming with me to my beach house where you’re going to cough up the last of your fake cold and all the details of what the fuck is going on with you financially.”

“I don’t have a choice? I can stay at a friend’s house, you know.”

The night sky that never fully darkened the city cast a glow on his cunning smile as he eyed me. “Either you come with me, or I allow Max, the cheating-ex dick—sex tape and all—to buy this place.”

I felt my stomach tighten into a spasm. “How do you know any of that? Any of it?”

“Because Max was at the club tonight, and it just so happens that my good friend was at your wedding—well, what was supposed to be your wedding. Anyway, he informed me, in explicit detail, why he didn’t question why you were a runaway bride.”

“Fine,” I said, more pissed off than my brain could comprehend. “Let’s go to the goddamn beach, shall we?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. I’d take you to my place in the hills,” he said from the other room while I went into my bedroom, “but I hear salty air is better for a head cold than that vaporizer.”

“I think you already know I’m not fucking sick.”

“True,” he answered while I shoved clothes—that I could hardly see in my pitch-dark bedroom—into my overnight bag. “The beach is renowned for its therapeutic properties, though.”

“I hate the beach.”

“Another fucking lie to confess to your priest on the drive there,” he said smugly.

“I’ll drive myself.”

“You’ll ride with me,” he said. “Or Natalia and Cass will find out all about Max wanting to buy this place that hasn’t even hit the market yet.”

I stumbled over my bed and landed headfirst into my dresser as I tried to flee my room, needing to get out to where Alex was.

“Jesus,” I heard him say. “Don’t you have a flashlight or something?”

I felt him at my side while I held my forehead, feeling a bump slowly rising to the surface. “No. I usually pay my electric bills, and…”

“And you aren’t used to the power company teaching you the harsh lesson of what happens when you don’t pay your bills on time?”

“That’s why I’m not going with you.”

“That is exactly why you’re going with me,” he said, flashing his phone light around my room. “Pack up the rest of your shit. We’re out of here.”

“What do you know about Max wanting to buy my place?” I softly asked, continuing to pack as Alex held up his phone’s flashlight for me.

“I’m sorry to say it, but the jerk-off seems to have it out for you after finding out that you wanted to marry my sexy ass at our merge gala. He was there to spy on our company.”

“He was spying?” I spoke. “I thought he was stalking me.”

“Turns out, he works for Jim’s enemy, Brakken,” he continued. “I swear, that company has some majorly shady shit going on. This isn’t the first time they’ve sent a spy of some sort to crash one of Jim’s company merges.”

I went with this conversation. Alex seemed to be more caught up with that, quickly forgetting that I was in the shittiest position of my life. Not only did Alex know I wasn’t paying my bills, but he’d also made it clear he was done with my lies. Now, he knew I was selling my place, and that dickweasel, Max, was trying to buy it to get revenge on me. I was sure of that. Keeping Alex’s mind occupied with business seemed to keep him from prying into my personal life, so all I could do was hope he’d rant until he was blue in the face.

I guess this is how it ends when you lie yourself into oblivion. The one person you don’t want to know about your failures shows up while you’re elbow-deep in candy wrappers, trying to eat away the shame of living a double life. Then, you take a header into a mahogany armoire and nearly give yourself a concussion, so you have a physical reminder that lying isn’t good for you.

The irony was that all of these lies were started to save what little dignity I had left. If that wasn’t the backfire of the decade, I didn’t know what to call it.

By the time we’d reached Alex’s car, I stopped in my tracks. “Are you serious with this?” I said, trying to turn the tables on him to get out of this situation.

“With what?” He took my duffle from my hand and tossed it in his trunk. “The car or the fact that you’re about to cough up your lies about everything while we’re driving in it?”

“The Ferrari,” I said.

He flashed that sly smile that told me I should’ve let him continue talking about the last thoughts he’d had on his mind; the fact that my ex worked for Mr. Mitchell’s competition.

“Aside from my cat, this car ranks at the top of things I love most.” He stretched his arms over the top of the sleek, graphite-colored car and eyed me. “So, take it easy on your insults.”

“A Ferrari 812?” I arched an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t even think these were in America?”

“It’s one of the first to sail the high seas to bring me the horsepower I desire. How do you know anything about the make or model of this vehicle?”

“Do you think that because I’m broke that I don’t know anything about Ferraris?”

He smirked. “Get in the damn car.” He opened his door. “And for the record, you said that shit about being broke, Breanne. Not me.”

I stood there, listening to the low growl of the engine come to life, purring and idling while Alex sat patiently in the car.

“Fuck,” I growled under my breath.

The window rolled down.

“Come on, dimples. Let’s go.”

“You have a cat?” I asked, climbing into the car.

Alex put the car in gear, and when the badass thing roared to life, I understood why my idiot ex had always drooled over this particular Ferrari. Max’s stupid ass was the only reason I knew anything about the damn car in the first place.

“My cat’s name is Zeus, named after the Greek god because he thinks he is a Greek god.” Alex’s voice changed into a more humorous tone, and it was incredibly charming despite how irritated I was by my current circumstances. “He’s as black as the sin in your lying little heart, and he’s the only living thing on earth who owns my ass.” He pulled onto the street once the light turned green and allowed for us to merge into the cluster of Friday night party cars on this particular street. “Now, let’s talk about more pressing issues.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I’m—Jesus Christ. You’re not the person I want to confide in about this.”

I heard a ding, and my eyes widened when the car spoke to Alex in some British robot voice: “Text from Natalia Hoover. Hey, did you get to Bree’s…”

Alex hit a button on his steering wheel to silence the car from announcing the rest of the text.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked, knowing exactly what that was—treachery.

“My car talks.” Alex smiled. “It’s like Night Rider. Pretty fucking awesome, right?”

“Now, who’s the goddamn liar?” I said. “Unbelievable. How the hell does Nat have your number, and more importantly, why the fuck is she asking if you got to my place?”

“Listen, I can lie about the fact that I searched the database at the firm for your address, and after having small talk with your friends, I found you—”

“Or you can tell me what the fuck is going on,” I interrupted, my limit for games rapidly approaching its end.

“Right.” He pursed his lips, shifted gears, and flew onto the freeway and over into the fast lane of Interstate 405. “If we’re going to get the truth out of you, then I’d better set the example, eh?”

“Yeah,” I mocked. “And while we play this game of truth or dare, I want to know everything that happened at the bar.”

“First of all, I’m thrilled you opted in for a game of truth or dare because I’m about to dare you to—”

“Answer the question,” I ignored his attempt at flirtation or whatever the hell he was doing to distract me. “How did you find out about Max wanting to buy my place?”

“I thought I was doing the questioning. Interesting how you flipped that around so efficiently.”

“Please, God, tell me!” I sounded whiney, but fuck, who wouldn’t be? This was outright annoying.

“Your assclown of an ex taunted your friends tonight. He told them he made an offer on your place, and he’s calling for a short sale. Nat was pretty distraught by the news, not only because you are selling your beloved home without confiding in her and your other friends,” he glanced at me while I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, “but that Max was buying it to throw fuel on the fire. I would assume that not trusting her to be your real estate agent—someone who could help navigate these very personal and sticky deals—only adds insult to injury. I can’t speak to her feelings, but you might want to have a conversation with her about that. Just my two cents.”

“I had my reasons for keeping this to myself.”

“Like me, your friend Cass seems more easily able to tune into your reasons for selling the place without telling your friends.”

“And the reasons you’ve both seemed to realize are what?” I was suddenly feeling overly defensive, but that was because I knew I’d blown it with my friends, and Alex Grayson, of all the people in the fucking world, was the one I had to talk this out with.

“We believe that you’re keeping everything on the down-low because you’re stubborn, prideful, and, surprisingly, a pathological liar,” he said with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t need rescuing,” I said, setting this record straight. “I knew that if they found out, they’d stop the sale and loan me the money to pull my ass out of the pit I fell into by trusting my employees.”

“That’s the prideful part I just mentioned,” he said, shifting gears, navigating this car as if we were on a racetrack. “The stubborn part, well, that’s why all the lying commenced; is it not?”

I frowned, willing myself not to cry. This was humiliating. I didn’t want to admit any of this to myself, much less Alex. I fucking hated crying, and it seemed that’s all I’d done since meeting this man.

“Listen,” Alex’s voice changed as he took an exit that led us into the hills, “we all get it. It’s shit, and your friends give a fuck. That’s a damn good thing, Bree.”

He called me by my nickname—the one used by my family and friends—and it made me feel instantly at ease for some strange reason. Maybe it was because I needed some sort of comfort after being so vulnerable and exposed, or perhaps it was because the way he said it made me feel like Alex gave a damn.

“I appreciate it. I do. But I wasn’t raised to have people bail my ass out of shitty situations that I brought on myself.”

“That’s because you had good parents,” he said with a smile. “Did they also tell you never to stare a gift horse in the face? You have people who care about you, people who would never allow your ex to steal the home you and your dad designed together. I will hold your ass hostage at my place until you admit that this is a tremendous thing that we’re all doing for you.”

“That’s the big question, though,” I answered him. “What are you doing except taking me as your hostage?”

“We’re helping.” His face grew solemn as the car hung onto every turn it made, going through the shortcut everyone took when heading to Malibu from L.A. “I’m buying your place unless you pull that listing tonight.”

“No, and no. No way in hell to both of those things.”

“That’s fine,” Alex said. “I have plenty of wealthy friends who will ensure Max the wanker doesn’t fuck you over because you made him look like the asshole he is.”

“Please don’t put me in this position,” I said with a sigh.

“What position? A position to help you because you have a fucking heart of gold, and your employees fucked you for it?”

“Yes! That position.”

The car slowed and veered off the road and into a vista point turnout. Alex shut off the engine and gripped the back of my seat.

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” he said, pinning me with his dark eyes.

“Excuse me?”

He did that sexy thing where his lips tightened, and he chewed on the corner of them. “No lies, remember?”

He seemed pissed, and so, who gave a shit what I said at this point? I might as well tell the truth since we were traveling down this fucking road together, literally.

“From the day I’ve met you—” Being in the car and too close to his sexy expression made me choke on my words, needing to fight for some breathing room.

I jumped out of the car, and Alex was hot on my heels behind me.

“From the day I met you, I’ve been nothing but supportive,” he insisted.

“That’s the thing,” I said, letting the smell of the salty ocean air waft against my face. “I didn’t want to look like a pathetic idiot who ran my dad’s company. I didn’t want the merge, either. I wanted to prove I could do it all on my own. Then you came along and found my employees stealing from me. You saw that my company was in the red and I was hiding down with the architects. Maybe I would’ve eventually been okay with all of that, but from the first second I’d met you, you led me to believe you were some Logan guy. It just feels like you’re the one who’s enjoying all of this shit going sideways on me.”

“Really?” I snapped my head over to him at the sound of his lowered, upset tone. “Do you think that’s also why I held you while you cried in my fucking arms? I’m an asshole, Breanne, but not that big of an asshole.”

“Why, then?” I asked. “Why were you there for me? Why are you here for me now instead of allowing my friends to grill me and let me stay with them?”

We were officially in an awkward stare-off.

He chewed on the corner of his mouth while he looked away from me. “You’re my partner.”

“Not good enough,” I countered. “None of it makes sense unless you’re enjoying the fact that your new partner sucks and her company would’ve gone under without you saving it. Unless you enjoy watching me go through hell.”

“I would naturally warn you right here,” he turned to me, and I felt my heartrate react to the man’s dark yet sincere expression, “but I won’t because I don’t…”

Suddenly I wasn’t the one lost for words or lies; Alex was stumped about this shit too, and it’s because he knew I was fucking right.

“You don’t what?” I pressed. “Just admit it, since we’re not lying to each other. The badass CEO and former VP of Mitchell and Associates, Alex Grayson, enjoys Breanne Stone’s—”

“Companionship,” he said in an exhale and then looked at me as if he’d just been given a sign from God. “Wow. That’s not a word in my vocabulary that’s used very often. Here’s another one. I love being around you, even if it’s all shitty. You intrigue me, and even though we’re merely friends and business partners, I will admit that whether you want saving or not, I’m not going to walk away and pretend you don’t need help. I’m here for you, and I enjoy that I feel enough compassion—for the first time in my fucking life for anyone other than my friends—that I’m not going to allow you to get crushed.”

“Crushed?”

I didn’t know how to respond to any of this, and the strange part was that I didn’t think Alex knew how to respond to any of it either. It’s like we were both up here, on top of the world, confused as hell about why we were here.

“I like you a lot, Breanne. I don’t think I’ve ever taken an interest like this in any woman, much less a coworker. So, allow me to help and at least be here for you.”

“All right,” I oddly and too quickly conceded. “Let’s get to your place because after you practically just admitted you’re in love with me, I could use a beer or ten,” I teased with a smile to kill this awkwardness.

Alex laughed loudly. “Jesus Christ, is this what loving someone would be like?”

He asked the question in a way that made me suddenly feel sad for him. It was as if he had no idea what that word meant.

“Love comes in many different fashions,” I said, beginning to feel like Alex was even more lost than I was. I wanted to move this conversation to a lighter level, though, because I’d about had it with the revelations of tonight. “What you’re saying is that you want to marry me and live in a house in the suburbs.”

I smiled at his expressions as it turned more mischievous and returned to the Alex I was more comfortable with. This was undoubtedly an interesting interaction, though. I couldn’t even begin to emotionally unpack everything that’d taken place within the last ten minutes, and I wasn’t going to start now.

“Let’s get to the beach house because if what you just said is true,” Alex grinned, “I’m going to be needing a much stiffer drink than a beer. House in the fucking suburbs, my ass.”

I chuckled at his statement, and I couldn’t help but instantly wonder what kind of history he had to make him question what love was like—as if it were an emotion he’d never heard of before. A sadness crossed his features, and it was heartbreaking, to say the very least.

One thing I knew for sure was that if Alex was going to be there for me with my sad story, he was going to meet me in the middle, and I was going to find out why he acted like the word love was a foreign concept.