Mr. Lucky: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Read online

  No fucking way.

  But there it was; his upturned eyes betrayed a guarded sensitivity. Veto's pursed lips separated to say something as he helped me to my feet, but nothing came out. My cheeks and chest beamed red hot with embarrassment; how could I be so clumsy?

  “Thanks,” I blurted. I pulled away, taking a few lopsided steps. Stripping off what was left of my shoes, I rushed towards my apartment. “I—I need to go.”

  He didn't stop me. He didn't say another word.

  Bursting through my door, I slammed it behind me. With a long groan, I slumped to the floor. I was mortified by the way I just ran off, but I couldn't stop myself. My heart rattled like it was convinced I had just run a marathon.

  I groaned again when I remembered the moving truck and storage pod. That has to mean he lives here now. HERE! In my apartment complex! There was no escaping the future awkwardness. What the hell was I going to do the next time I saw him?

  Well, at least I won't have to worry about it for the next few days. It was the first time since Zenya invited me to her wedding that I felt anything other than apprehension.

  Chapter 2

  Calli

  Despite my three alarms, I woke up late.

  I quickly packed the nicest clothes I owned and raced out the door. More like snuck out, actually, but it didn't matter. The moving van was gone; Veto was nowhere to be seen. Small miracles.

  I was greeted with a parking ticket tucked under a wiper blade. Crushing it in a fist, I tightened every muscle in my body and breathed out in a tight hiss. I knew this would happen—but it would be okay. As long as my car started, nothing else mattered.

  Shoving my bags into the back, I climbed into the front seat and turned the key. Carrie rumbled like a well-fed kitten; thank goodness. This weekend might not start off on such a bad foot, after all.

  The drive into New York was something else. When I wasn't stuck in traffic, I was getting cut off and nearly driven off the road! It was Saturday morning, why was everyone so aggressive behind the wheel here? It was almost too stressful for me to dwell on how stupidly I'd acted around Veto last night. Almost.

  Images of him soaked to the bone in his see-through shirt lit by lightning flashes buried me under the weight of wild fantasies. What could've happened if I hadn't run off like a lunatic last night? I could still feel the pressure of his hands on my back and smell his scent. It was enough to send goosebumps up my arms.

  For the hundredth time during that drive, I scolded myself to forget him.

  But then I saw something that finally erased the hot stranger from my mind.

  There it was; the jagged, magnificent New York City skyline. It filled both the horizon and my soul with a sense of awe and wonder. Manhattan was scary and beautiful and unique, and every time I saw the sharp point of the Chrysler building my heart felt a little lighter. It was something about the old, Art Deco-style that made it my favorite building. I could only imagine waking up and seeing it every morning.

  There was so much rich history here. This was where things happened. Unlike my sleepy, unimportant little town, this was where the world was shaped. This was where I was always supposed to be.

  The text from Zenya popped up and blocked the navigation on my phone. “Where you at, Chili?”

  In my haste to reply and explain that I was using my phone for directions, I missed my damn turn. “Dammit!” The reroute added a half hour and two more tolls to my drive.

  When I pulled into the hotel parking lot I caught a glimpse of my hair in the rearview mirror. What a mess! My wavy brown hair was a frizzy disaster. Apparently the rain and winter chill last night was too much for it because even the hair spray I used this morning wasn't working like it should.

  I would have loved to visit my room after checking in so I could straighten up, but I didn't have time--I was already running late. It's fine, Zenya won't care how I look. Who was I trying to impress?

  I lugged my bags inside and gave my name to the hotel staff behind the check in counter. They greeted me with a practiced, chipper insincerity that was only a little grating.

  The woman typed at her computer. Suddenly, her mouth tightened. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but we don't have a room for you.”

  “There must be some kind of mistake.” As tired as I was, I still tried to keep the confusion and anger from my voice. “I definitely booked a room. Can you double check? I had to take an extra shift at work just to pay for it!”

  “I'm so sorry, but there's no reservation in here for you.”

  I exhaled most of the annoyance that was building in me. I'd worked in the service industry long enough to know not to shoot the messenger. It was an emotional day and it was far from over. “Just give me another one then.”

  “Unfortunately, there are no more rooms. It looks like everything is booked here.” The lady looked nearly remorseful. “We're very sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “Inconvenience?” Okay. Now I was pissed. “I just drove three hours to be here and you're telling me that you don't have my room. I need a place to sleep for the night!”

  The woman looked down and furiously began typing. After a few minutes she swiveled the computer monitor around for me to see. Her expression hadn't changed. “I just did a check of the hotels in the area. Between the Governor's ball and the marathon, it looks like they're all booked up, too.”

  No. This could not be happening!

  She barely got the words out before I stomped away. I had to leave before I made a scene. I thought about calling Zenya to ask if I could sleep at her apartment but quickly dismissed that idea. We weren't in college anymore; I couldn't do that to her and her fiancé.

  The vicarious embarrassment I felt at even the thought of sleeping on their couch the day before their wedding mortified me. Besides, she'd mentioned that some of her family was already staying with them, so there probably wasn't even any room.

  I sat on one of the plush, ivory colored couches in the reception area and tried not to hyperventilate. I slumped over my knees and covered my face with my hands.

  Am I really going to have to sleep in my car?

  “Calli?” When I first heard the voice I thought I'd imagined it. Really, brain? You're going to think about him now? My brain could be such a prick to me sometimes.

  It was the warm, manly scent of cologne that forced my head. My eyes must've been in on the joke because what I saw was impossible. There was no way he could be here.

  My sexy neighbor, Veto, towered over me with one hand in the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit. I could tell last night that he had good taste, but to see him out of the rain—so crisp, clean and put together... He looks incredible.

  His blue eyes cascaded down my body like a waterfall. With a confidence that shook me to my bones, he smiled softly and said, “I have exactly what you need.”

  Chapter 3

  Calli

  Veto was really here. The living man candy was towering over me, making me super conscious of all my flaws; my messy hair, my quickly-done makeup, my rushed outfit. I was a wreck and he was nearly glowing with perfection. I berated myself for not taking a minute to clean myself up in my car. But I'd been so sure it wouldn't matter.

  How was this real life?

  His words finally sank into my brain. I have exactly what you need.

  “Excuse me?” I asked in total disbelief.

  I was still bent over my knees trying to figure how and why Veto was even here when I realized my head was right at the level of his belt buckle. My eyes flashed down to his zipper.

  If he had a hard-on, he'd be poking me right in the mouth.

  My head flashed with delicious images of exactly that. The thought of his big cock had me scissoring my thighs, my panties already wet. It also turned my face bright red. I swallowed hard and straightened up.

  The look in Veto's cool eyes told me he knew exactly what was on my mind. “You heard me.”

  I would love to not make a fool out of myself just once around hi
m. Just once!

  “I—” I cleared my throat and started again. The absurdity of him being in the same hotel as me echoed in my head and muted some of the naughty thoughts that I apparently couldn't get rid of whenever he was around. Was I always this horny? Or was this just something he brought out in me? “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

  “That sounds like an awful lot of work. I mean, I already know where you live.” Veto flashed an eyebrow tauntingly, then he pulled out a small paper invite. “Turns out we're going to the same wedding.”

  “What? That's crazy!” I looked it over. It was the exact same one I got; he was telling the truth! What were the odds?

  “Small world.” Veto shrugged. “When I heard you say Zenya's name last night, I was going to ask you about it, but you bolted on me before I got the chance.”

  “I'm sorry about that.” I rubbed the red out of my scrunched up face. God, that was embarrassing. “Are you a friend of Clint's?” Clint was her fiancé, and it was the only thing that made sense. I couldn't picture Zenya keeping a hottie like Veto under wraps—she would have mentioned a friend like that to me, surely!

  “Something like that.” Veto's jaw clenched for a moment before relaxing. “I overheard your situation. Do you need a place to crash for the night?”

  “Oh, no.” I replied immediately. It was so ingrained in me to turn down help. It was as reflexive as when your knee jerks after the doctor taps it with the mallet. Besides, spending a night with him? The thought made me shiver.

  It also made my pussy ache.

  “I'll be fine,” I said. “I'll find another hotel. So—”

  “Where?” Veto smirked. “New Jersey? Everything in this city is full.” His knowing gaze made it clear that he easily saw through my flimsy excuses. “I insist.”

  I pulled in a long ragged breath. “Why are you being so nice to me? That's twice you've pulled my ass out of the fire. I mean—I'm grateful! It's just... You don't know me.”

  “Maybe not.” Veto waved over the concierge and pointed to both our bags. “But we all need a helping hand every once in a while. And I can tell you have a good heart.”

  I almost wanted to argue with him. How could he possibly know that? Instead, I accepted the compliment. It was such a little thing, but it washed away some of the stress and fatigue. It was nice to hear something, well, nice.

  “I'll at least split the cost of the room with you.” I tried to sound demanding, to take back some of the power in the conversation.

  “If you want.” The blue in his eyes seemed to deepen somehow. “It's a small room. I think I only have a twin. So you'll have to behave yourself.”

  The way he said those first three words sent my heart to galloping like a team of horses. But the last words, about behaving myself, were just as bad. I fought the urge to bite my lip. “I can just sleep in the bathtub,” I laughed dryly. Trying to make my blood stop racing, I stood up. “I'll find a way to make this up to you.”

  “I'm sure you will.” Veto placed the key in my hand. The spark of our fingers touching sent tingles across my skin. It made me hold my breath, but if he'd noticed, he didn't act like it; he glanced at his watch. “Wasn't there some sort of luncheon today?”

  My eyes flashed. “Oh no! I'm crazy late! Uh, excuse me, we'll... we'll catch up later!”

  “Yes,” he chuckled, watching me closely. “We won't have much choice in the matter.”

  His reminder about how we'd be sleeping just a few feet from each other made it very easy for me to run from the hotel. I pretended all my energy was because I was late to lunch with Zenya, but deep down, I knew how much Veto was getting to me.

  Fortunately, the cafe was a few blocks away, so I had time to walk off some of the crazy sexual frustration.

  Someone handed me a charity fundraiser flier while I waited on a crosswalk to change color. I didn’t read the whole thing, but it looked like all the donations went toward helping animals. The event was tonight, and although I would've loved to go to a real New York City fundraiser, I had Zenya's rehearsal dinner. Even if I was free, the fundraiser definitely wasn't. At ten-thousand dollars a plate, the event was hilariously out of my price range. I was definitely not in Roslington anymore.

  That put a smile on my face.

  I stuffed the flier into my coat pocket and pushed open the door to Pastiche, the trendy Madison Avenue pastry boutique we were all meeting at. I immediately fell in love with the cafe's theme when I walked in. It was a French bakery meets vintage two-wheel motif. Nineteen sixties motorcycles and odd, old, beautifully preserved bicycles were everywhere, even the ceiling! It shouldn't have worked, but it totally did.

  “Chili Pepper!” Zenya squealed excitedly. I saw her group of girls right away; they took up half the tiny restaurant. Everyone in the group was just finishing their food when I arrived.

  “I swear. You're going to be late to your own funeral, girl.” Zenya rushed over to hug me.

  “I think that's the one thing I won't mind being late for.” I squeezed her tightly. The jasmine infused soap she still used immediately brought me back to a simpler, happier time when we were broke roommates who didn't worry about anything except which parties to go to over the weekend.

  “I'm so sorry I'm late,” I said.

  “It's part of your charm.” Zenya broke the hug and wiped her eyes. “Just don't be late to my wedding!”

  “Of course not! You look amazing, Z.”

  “Why thank you.” Zenya kicked her hips to the side and planted a palm on her waist in a sassy, showy gesture. She wore a short sleeve black dress with a cleavage window and knee-high boots that made her flawless, light mocha skin glow.

  I was under dressed in my sea salt chinos, sweater and puffy coat, which still felt a little damp from last night's rain. Zenya was the most fashionable girl I'd ever met, she radiated style. I could've been wearing a dress spun from actual gold and I'd still feel under dressed next to her.

  Zenya introduced me to her future sister-in-law, Jennifer, then to the rest of the girls. I turned down the offer for food, lying about having a big breakfast. I was hungry, but after the nearly thirty dollars-worth of tolls just to drive here, I definitely couldn't afford anything off this organic, farm-friendly, locally-sourced menu.

  “And a margarita for the maid of honor as well,” Jennifer added sharply to the waitress, despite my insistence that tap water was fine. There was a strange stiffness in the way Jennifer said maid of honor. It reminded me of the way someone in second place would congratulate the winner. Maybe I was just reading into things. It wasn't like Zenya's wedding was some sort of competition.

  My jaw basically hit the floor when Zenya showed me her engagement ring. The diamonds—plural—were huge and definitely cost more than my car. “Holy hell, look at those rocks! Facebook pics don't do this baby justice.”

  “Is it too big?” Zenya tried her best at modesty, but couldn't contain her excitement. When she squealed in giddy joy everyone else joined in too, with the notable exception of Jennifer, who just smiled evenly and sipped at her drink. Zenya fanned herself and exhaled. “It's fucking gorgeous, isn't it?”

  My eyes drifted around the table to all the other diamond rings and wedding bands. Was I the only one who hadn't found the love of their life? I slipped my naked hands onto my lap, beneath the table.

  “Amazing,” I said, smiling brightly. I drained the rest of my drink while the other girls traded stories about their wedding days and how incredible Zenya's was going to be. The conversations shifted to honeymoons. Each of her friends seemed to one-up the next with exotic locations or extravagant excess.

  I smiled and added little things to the conversation that wouldn't draw too much attention my way. Being that I hadn't eaten yet today the alcohol was really starting to hit me, which always did wonders for depression.

  At some point in my life I'd fallen off the boat of happiness and no matter how hard I swam, it always outpaced me. I could never catch up. The perfect li
fe seemed to come so easily for everyone else. Why was it so difficult for me?

  I loved my friend and really was happy for her. Z was a kind and wonderful person that deserved the world. This is her time, I reminded myself, refreshing my smile. Be here for her.

  “So. The famous roommate, Calli,” Jennifer interjected, quieting the group's small talk. She paused to take a sip of her drink, her gaze settling on me with the curiosity of a cat toying with a mouse. Eventually, she cracked a humorless smile. “Is there a special man in your life?”

  “Um.” I paused, groping for a way to deflect the question. It was claustrophobic having so many sets of eyes looking at me expectantly. Weirdly, I thought of Veto. But he wasn't really in my life. He was more of a thing that happened to me.

  “Calli's too busy for that right now,” Zenya said. “She's focusing on her career and her photography.” She came to my rescue like she used to when we lived together, and my mother visited for dinner and asked me the same things. Z threw an arm over my shoulder and playfully scolded me. “Hell, I haven't even seen her in like two years because of it. Do you know how hard it's been to stay out of trouble without you?”

  I laughed and so did most of the other girls. That lightened the mood and alleviated some tension. Zenya was the outgoing Yin to my introverted Yang. She used to drag me to parties and I used to drag her home before she made super bad decisions... most of the time.

  “I know someone I could set you up with,” Wanda, one of the bridesmaids, teased. “That is, if you like handsome and richer than God.”

  “Wanda, I love you girl,” Z said, “But firstly, aside from your husband, you have the worst taste in men.” Zenya slowly shook her head. “And secondly, you better not be talking about who I think you're talking about.”

  “I do not have bad taste!”