The Billionaire Bad Boys Club(79)
Author: Emma Holly

Once he’d watched a fourth station air its version of the story, Zane shut off all the TVs. He felt as tired as if he’d been up for week.

The picking apart would come later: the jokes on the late night talk shows, the conservative groups frothing at the mouth, the debates over whether bisexuality actually existed. Zane had done what he could for now. That had to be enough.

“That was all right,” Pete said judiciously, his words slurred by lack of sleep. “The bit about the pursuit of happiness was sort of patriotic.”

Rebecca got up to kiss her brother’s cheek. She came to Zane’s chair next and curled up in his lap like a cat. She was easy to put his arms around.

“I’m glad I’m someone you care about,” she murmured.

“Me too,” Trey said, sitting on his chair’s other arm.

Surrounded by the people he loved, Zane closed his eyes and let his breath gust out.

~

He let himself enjoy the respite for five minutes. Then he got up to tackle Mrs. P. Trey volunteered to speak to the house manager, but Zane preferred keeping busy right then.

“Stick with Rebecca,” he said. “Make sure the boys have anything they need.”

Standing close, Trey rubbed Zane’s wrist with his thumb. His brows went up when Zane had to fight not to pull away. “Stop thinking about your dad and his macho code. Letting Rebecca see who you are was the right choice. Having that exposed doesn’t mean you’re being punished. It’s just Missy being a nasty cunt.”

“I know,” Zane said. “In my head, I totally know.”

To prove it, he kissed Trey softly on the lips—though Rebecca’s brothers still sprawled sleepily nearby.

Trey pulled back from him and smiled. “Don’t let Mrs. P resign.”

“I won’t,” Zane promised, knowing as well as Trey did that she’d try.

His patience wasn’t completely up to soothing the guilt-stricken woman. She should have mentioned her nephew was the family troublemaker before suggesting him for a job. Zane was sure she’d convinced herself the position would help Owens straighten up, and no doubt her sister had put pressure on her to put in a word for him. People lied to themselves all the time about relatives.

Though Zane didn’t ask, she swore she hadn’t gossiped to her nephew about her bosses’ relationship. She probably hadn’t had to. Once Owens was on the staff and around them everyday, he’d have sniffed it out by himself. A single glance exchanged in the car could have given them away. Lately, Zane hadn’t kept up his guard as carefully.

“Trey and I didn’t have to take your recommendation,” he pointed out to Mrs. P and himself. “Ultimately, the buck stops with the bosses.”

It took ten more minutes, but he convinced her she wouldn’t improve matters by quitting. That was one load off his mind. Mrs. Penworth ran their house really efficiently.

He detoured to the terrace afterwards. He needed a few deep breaths and to remind himself that the sun had come up regardless. The birds were singing, the squirrels still scampering on the lawn. An unexpected peace settled over him. The truth was out, and the world hadn’t ended. He had Trey, and Rebecca hadn’t left. It was hard to imagine, considering all that remained to face, but maybe they’d come out of this stronger.

He’d set his cell to vibrate, and it buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw the caller’s ID was blocked. This was his private number. He hoped to hell the press hadn’t got hold of it.

He drew one more clear breath and answered it.

“There you are,” purred Missy’s most seductive voice. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

Zane’s heart thumped so hard she should have heard it on her end. “What do you want?” he asked tightly.

“Just to congratulate you. Coming out like that was clever. I’d almost think you didn’t mind.”

Zane gripped the phone and tried to project calm. “Missy, what I did to you doesn’t warrant this reaction.”

“Doesn’t it? You wasted my time, Zane, when all along you were in love with your CFO. I can have any man I want. I won’t be humiliated by some bastard billionaire using me as his beard. Does your new whore know that’s all she is to you? Does she realize you and your precious Trey count the minutes until you can be alone? Will she tell her friends she’s certain you’ll be popping the question any day?”

Was that what Missy had told people?

“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry you misunderstood my intentions, though—frankly—I can’t fathom how you could. You knew you weren’t the only woman I was seeing.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she said, her voice crisp and hard with anger. “You don’t get to turn this around on me. I’m the victim, and you are going to pay—you and your precious g*y boyfriend.”

“Missy—”

“Turn on Boston AM,” she advised, naming a local daytime talk show. “You’ve got—oh—about ten minutes until it starts. We’ll call this ‘Revenge, part deux.’”

She ended the call, leaving him to curse at no one. He glanced up the rear of the mansion to the quiet third-floor windows where he and Trey had shared so many nights. Rebecca joining them had felt natural—inevitable, even. She fit them both, and they fit her. He saw that now, as clearly as the sun beaming down on him. What he didn’t see was why people like Missy needed to twist their happiness into a different shape. Couldn’t they ignore it and go be happy themselves?

Because he guessed they couldn’t, he went inside to find the others.

They weren’t in the library. He found them in the twins’ guest room, standing in a loose cluster in front of the wall TV.

“My friend Caroline called,” Charlie said as he came in. “She said Boston AM was promo-ing an interview with Mystique.”

He’d barely finished speaking when the smartly dressed female host of the show appeared onscreen. Frieda Finch, a forty-something auburn-haired woman, was as birdlike as her name. To the swells of show’s theme music, she introduced her guest as the world famous swimsuit model, Mystique. Missy sat in the opposite chair, seeming to like the description. She’d dropped her recent Marilyn Monroe kick and was looking more Kim Novak in a primly buttoned but very curve-hugging light gray suit.

Finch leaned toward her sympathetically. “Mystique, you and billionaire Zane Alexander have been viewed as an item for a few years. What’s your take on these recent shocking developments?”