Bad Wedding (Billionaire's Club Book 9) Page 16

  “Hello?” More panic. More horror. More pretending the call was cutting out because she had to end this conversation now. Hell, she should have never picked up the call in the first place. “Mom? Hello?”

  “Katie!”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. “I can’t hear you,” she said. “If you can hear me. I’ll call you later.” She hung up.

  Or never.

  As in, she’d never call her family again. As in, she was moving to a deserted island and changing her name and—

  Fuck.

  Because despite all of the setups and the pity and the fact that they’d found their happy, she loved her family. So. Damned. Much. And she also loved that stupid fucking Christmas party, even when she was lonely.

  “Ugh.” Kate groaned, feet sliding to a stop on that dirty San Franciscan sidewalk.

  She had a choice here.

  She also knew she wasn’t going to make the right one.

  Because, instead of calling her mother back and telling her she’d heard wrong, that she wasn’t engaged, Kate opened Instagram, tapped on the profile of a man she’d been following for a while now, who’d followed her back and commented on a few of her posts, and . . . sent a message.

  Later, she’d want to pretend she’d been drinking.

  But in that moment, the only thing she was consumed with was desperation.

  And lust. She couldn’t deny lust was also her downfall.

  Because surprisingly, shockingly, insanely the man from social media, the one whose abs had made her fall just a little in love with him . . .

  He said yes.

  And suddenly, Kate had a fiancé.

  Epilogue

  Part Three

  Dan

  He slipped out of the back of the bakery, after having watched Jackson and Molly finally find their way to the happy ending they deserved.

  No big church or puffy dress this time.

  Just two people who were in love.

  People who had almost missed their chance because he couldn’t get his shit done.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, so damned tired of the guilt and yet knowing that it was just part of the job. When he’d been cherry-picked from the FBI a few years before and folded into the private sector, Dan had already been well-familiar with the failures that were common in this line of work.

  Not every case was solved.

  Not everyone came out alive.

  Not every ending was happy.

  Dan got that. He . . . just hadn’t expected to find it so fucking depressing to be working for an agency with a bigger reach, who took on bigger bad guys from around the world. Because despite the larger budget, the greater access to resources. Sometimes the bad guys still won.

  And the only thing he hated more than the bad guys winning was when that unhappiness or death or boulder hanging over someone’s head he was supposed to be helping was his fault.

  “I knew you’d be here.”

  Dan didn’t react. He might feel like a failure when it came with taking down the Mikhailova clan, but he was damned good at being aware of his surroundings, of keeping himself alive.

  So, he knew that Laila was there, had slipped out the back door of the bakery, having felt the same connection with Molly and Jackson, and wanting to see them happy.

  Because happy didn’t happen often enough in this industry.

  But just as he knew Laila had emerged from inside, even though she’d hardly made a sound when opening that heavy metal door, Dan also knew that Ava had come out behind her.

  Ava.

  Peaches. Humid summer days. Whisky and lemonade and—

  Fuck. Ava.

  She strode over to him, curves in a compact body, shining brown hair swept up into a ponytail that swung behind her shoulders as she moved, strength and confidence . . . and so many painful memories.

  Her eyes looked right through him, minimizing everything that had happened between them two years ago.

  Then those eyes narrowed, focused on him, seared straight into his soul.

  “We found the hard drives.”

  A beat as Laila came forward and crossed her arms, expression furious.

  “And we know what’s on them.”

  Coming Soon

  Read Kate’s story in Bad Engagement, coming October 12, 2020. Preorder your copy and www.books2read.com/BadEngagement.

  And don’t miss Dan’s story in a brand new series! Riding The Edge, book 1 in the KTS series is coming December 7, 2020. Preorder at www.books2read.com/RidingTheEdge

  Billionaire’s Club

  Bad Night Stand

  Bad Breakup

  Bad Husband

  Bad Hookup

  Bad Divorce

  Bad Fiancé

  Bad Boyfriend

  Bad Blind Date

  Bad Wedding

  Bad Engagement

  Billionaire’s Club

  Did you miss any of the other Billionaire’s Club books? Check out excerpts from the series below or find the full series at www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07JVRRGCT

  Bad Night Stand

  Book One

  www.books2read.com/BadNightStand

  Abby

  “I’m the best friend,” I said and lifted my chin, forcing my words to be matter-of-fact. I’d been through this before. “You might be fuckable to the nth degree and perfect for Seraphina, but I refuse to set her up with a liar.”

  In a movement too quick for my brain to process, my stool was shoved to the side and I was pinned against the bar, heavy hips pressing into me, a hard chest two inches from my mouth.

  Seraphina whipped around at the movement and I could just see her over Jordan’s shoulder, her blue eyes concerned.

  “Hi, Seraphina, I’m Jordan,” he said, calm as can be, gaze locked onto my face then my eyes when mine invariably couldn’t stay away. “I’m going to borrow your friend for a minute.”

  “Abs?” she asked, and I knew she’d go to bat for me right then and there if I needed her to.

  “Weasel or no?” I managed to gasp out. For some reason, I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Not that it had anything to do with Jordan.

  No, it had everything to do with him.

  “Weasel?” he asked.

  I shook my head, focused on my best friend. Weasel was our code name for the men trying to weasel, quite literally, their way into my pants and then into hers.

  I was just about ready to say fuck it—or me, rather—even if Jordan was a Weasel. He smelled amazing. His body was hard and hot against mine.

  And it had been way too long since I’d had sex.

  “No chemistry on my part—” Seraphina began.

  “Your friend isn’t who I’m attracted to,” Jordan growled out. “You are, and it’s fucking pissing me off that you don’t believe that.”

  Bad Breakup

  Book Two

  www.books2read.com/BadBreakup

  CeCe

  “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he said, and the rough edges of his accent hacked at the words, making them more of a growl rather than a soft sentiment.

  Her breath caught, and she found her eyes drawn to the stormy blue of Colin’s.

  And she stared again, utterly entranced before she remembered how it had all ended.

  Her in a white dress.

  Alone, except for the priest who’d given her a pitying look and invited her to stay as long as she needed.

  But it had always been like this, Colin’s gruff words winning her over. They were unexpected from him—he was typically so reserved and taciturn. And that compliment, freely given as it was, chipped away at any defenses she managed to erect.

  The problem was that his words weren’t always followed up by action. In fact, they were typically trailed by pain for her and fury for him.

  The hurt of those memories—of Colin so angry, her so broken—helped shore up her resolve.

  “Don’t say things like that,” she snapped and started to pop her earbuds back in. Her frie
nds at home had filled her phone with a slew of romantic audiobooks and she decided that she much preferred fictional heroes at the moment.

  At least if they broke their heroine’s heart, it was only once.

  Colin had already broken hers twice.

  She wasn’t looking for a round three.

  —Get your copy at www.books2read.com/BadBreakup.

  Bad Husband

  Book Three

  www.books2read.com/BadHusband

  Heather

  “I’m getting drunk,” he said, but allowed her to pull him inside the car so that her driver could shut the door behind them.

  “You’re already drunk,” she said.

  He stiffened. “More drunk.”

  “Fine,” she said, half-worried he was going to launch himself from the sedan. She’d never seen Clay like this. Usually he was so cold and uncompromising, impenetrable even under the toughest of negotiations. He was . . . well, he was typically as Steele-like as his last name decreed.

  She wrapped her arm through his in order to prevent any unplanned exits from the vehicle and gave the driver the name of her favorite bar. “If you really want to drink, let’s do it right.”

  And then she’d drop him at his hotel.

  Except it didn’t happen that way.

  Yes, they hit the bar.

  Yes, they drank.

  Yes, they got plastered.

  But then they woke up . . . or at least, Heather woke up.

  Naked.

  With a softly snoring Clay Steele passed out next to her in bed.

  That wasn’t the worst part.

  Because Heather woke up naked and with a softly snoring Clay Steele in her bed and she was wearing a giant diamond ring on her left hand.

  Still not the worst part.

  That came in the form of a slightly crumpled marriage certificate tucked under her right cheek.

  And not the one on her face.

  She pulled it from beneath her, a cold sweat breaking out on her body, dread in every nerve and cell.

  She still wasn’t prepared for the horror she found.

  The marriage license had been signed by . . . Heather O’Keith and Clay Steele.

  Holy fuck, what had she done?

  —Get your copy at www.books2read.com/BadHusband.

  Bad Hookup

  Book Four

  www.books2read.com/BadHookup

  Rachel

  The man didn’t take the hint. He didn’t leave.

  Why won’t he leave?

  She dropped her chin to her chest.

  “So,” he finally said after another lengthy—and silent—moment. “Gay, taken, or not interested?”

  “Oh my God,” she moaned, one hand coming up to push her bangs off her forehead. “This is not happening.”

  “I—” A beat then his voice was incredulous. “I know that moan.” Warm fingers grasped her wrist, tugged until she could see him in all his yumminess.

  Her moment of weakness. Her hookup because she’d been feeling desperate and lonely and—

  “It’s you,” he said softly.

  Yes, it was her. Rachel, the good girl who didn’t sleep around, who certainly didn’t hook up with random strangers in a bar.

  Rachel, who had hooked up with a stranger.

  The sex had been damned good. Incredible, actually.

  But it had been just that. Sex. And she hadn’t been able to let go of the guilt. She’d now slept with a grand total of two men in her life, and one of them was her husband.

  “I—” She tugged at her wrist. “I need to go.”

  —Get your copy at books2read.com/BadHookup.

  Bad Divorce

  Book Five

  www.books2read.com/BadDivorce

  Bec

  Bec really didn’t expect to see another person waiting for her when the doors opened with a soft ding and she stepped off.

  But there was another person waiting just outside her front door.

  A person she never expected to see again.

  Luke Pearson.

  Her ex-husband.

  It was one-fucking-thirty in the morning, and her ex-husband was sitting on the floor outside her apartment.

  Asleep.

  Fuming, she marched over to him and kicked his shoe. Hard.

  “Luke. Why in the ever loving fuck are you here?”

  His lids peeled back and sleepy green eyes met hers. “Becky,” he murmured. “You’re gorgeous as always.” The drowsiness began to fade from his expression. “Did you just come from work?” He glanced down at his phone. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Of course I know what time it is—” Bec bit back the words. Fuck, but wasn’t this conversation an exact replica of the broken record one they’d had way too many times over the course of their relationship?

  She crossed her arms. “Never mind that.” A glare that had withered balls much bigger than Luke’s “Why did you break into my apartment?”

  He stood. “First, I didn’t break into your apartment. This is the hall. Second,” he hurried to say when she opened her mouth to argue semantics, “I didn’t break in. You used our anniversary as the code.”

  Oh for fuck’s sake.

  Well, she was changing that tomorrow . . . today . . . fuck, yesterday, now that—

  “Go away, Luke,” she said, pushing past him and unlocking her door while blocking his view of the keypad that was identical to that of the elevator. Her front door’s code was not the date of her anniversary with her ex.

  But Luke probably already knew that, given that he had been sitting on the floor of her hallway rather than on her couch, beer in hand, feet making prints on her glass coffee table.

  Men.

  Fucking men.

  She slammed the door closed behind her and threw the dead bolt. The knock approximately one second later did not surprise her. Bec dropped her briefcase to the floor then opened it just enough to shoot angry eyes at him through the narrow gap the dead bolt allowed.

  Serious green eyes fixed onto hers. “We need to talk.”

  “Luke,” she snapped. “I’m exhausted. It’s the middle of the night. I wouldn’t have any patience to talk to my best friends right now, let alone my ex-husband.”

  “Funny story about that,” he said, his lips curving. “Turns out that I’m not actually your ex-husband.”

  —Get your copy at www.books2read.com/BadDivorce

  Bad Fiancé

  Book Six

  www.books2read.com/BadFiance

  Seraphina

  Sera was alone, pining after a man who’d created the latest social media craze.

  Yup. Her life was ah-maz-ing.

  Tate cleared his throat, and Sera realized she’d been staring at him dumbfounded for a good couple of minutes.

  “How can I help you today?” she asked. “I do hope”—Do hope? What was she, British? Ugh.—“I-uh . . . I hope you were able to find a house. The agents I passed along are very good at finding unique properties, and I even gave them a few locations to start with . . . ” She bit her lip, attempting to stop the ramble.

  “No.”

  Just no.

  Um. Okay.

  He lifted a hand, rubbed the back of his neck. The movement made his shirt lift, exposing several inches of flat stomach and tan skin and, oh God, a trail of blond hair leading south. Her mouth watered, desperate to trace that path with her tongue—

  Sera sucked in a breath, popped to her feet.

  “Ah. I’m sorry.” She picked up a random file, pretending to know what was in it. “I’m actually really busy, so this will have to continue another time.”

  Like never.

  She rounded her desk, forced a smile. “Mr. Conner,” she said when he didn’t move. “I’ll have my assistant schedule something soon.”

  “Seraphina.”

  She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips—soft, a little raspy, and deep enough to conjure all sorts of unhelpful fantasies in her mind.

 
; Shaking herself, she moved to open the door.

  Suddenly, Tate was there, hand on hers, body inches away, spicy scent inundating her senses.

  Sera’s breath caught. “What are you—?”

  He seemed to be arguing with himself then finally, those piercing blue eyes locked onto hers. “I need you to marry me.”

  —Get your copy at www.books2read.com/BadFiance

  Bad Boyfriend

  Book Seven

  www.books2read.com/BadBoyfriendEF

  Seraphina

  Sera was alone, pining after a man who’d created the latest social media craze.

  Yup. Her life was ah-maz-ing.

  Tate cleared his throat, and Sera realized she’d been staring at him dumbfounded for a good couple of minutes.

  “How can I help you today?” she asked. “I do hope”—Do hope? What was she, British? Ugh.—“I-uh . . . I hope you were able to find a house. The agents I passed along are very good at finding unique properties, and I even gave them a few locations to start with . . . ” She bit her lip, attempting to stop the ramble.

  “No.”

  Just no.

  Um. Okay.

  He lifted a hand, rubbed the back of his neck. The movement made his shirt lift, exposing several inches of flat stomach and tan skin and, oh God, a trail of blond hair leading south. Her mouth watered, desperate to trace that path with her tongue—

  Sera sucked in a breath, popped to her feet.

  “Ah. I’m sorry.” She picked up a random file, pretending to know what was in it. “I’m actually really busy, so this will have to continue another time.”