Scandalous Billionaire

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The woman in his bedroom closet gasped and swung around, clutching his red tie against her chest. Her eyes—the stunning blue of a topaz—were wide open, and her mouth was parted in shock. For a moment, he could do nothing but stare. Her full, kissable lips were painted red. Red? No. It wasn’t red. More like scarlet, the color of temptation.

He had an instant response to the sweet, springlike scent of her, until—

Jesus.

“Lizzie?” Braden blinked. It took him a moment to place her. He knew her, but at first he hadn’t recognized her at all.

For most of his early years, Elizabeth Ryan had been a fixture in his house. She was the daughter of his housekeeper—the much younger, off-fucking-limits daughter of his housekeeper, he mentally amended.

A few years ago, she’d gone away to college, and he hadn’t seen her since.

But now, she was back, more beautiful than ever, standing in his closet, near the shelves that held his shoes and winter sweaters.

“Braden.” She remained in place, as if shock had momentarily paralyzed her. “I…”

While he waited for her to go on, he swept his gaze over her. In the past four years, she’d changed considerably. Her cheekbones were more pronounced. Her curves were fuller, more enticing. But still, even in heels, she wouldn’t reach his chin.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Obviously.” It wasn’t often that he escaped the office to come home in the middle of the day, but if he were guaranteed to find her in his bedroom, that might change. Shit. What the hell was he thinking? This was Lizzie he was lusting over. He shook his head to get rid of the outrageous thought. “Care to explain yourself?”

“Ah… My mom recruited me to help her out. You know, for tomorrow’s party. There’s a lot to be done still, and she needs the help.”

Braden nodded. Lucky him, tomorrow he was hosting his grandparents’ seventieth anniversary party. A year ago, his mother had announced the event would be held here, at his house. Her royal decree hadn’t surprised him. His grandparents had built the River Oaks mansion in Houston in the 1950s, with an eye toward entertaining.

In the previous century, pictures of the numerous Gallagher soirees graced the newspaper society pages. But now, his grandfather’s health was declining. While he was still strong enough, they wanted one last magnificent party.

And Lizzie was right—there was a lot still to finish up, even though there’d been constant banging and clanging on the property for more than a week. Massive air-conditioned tents had been erected. All the pool decking had been power washed. A hundred potted plants and palms had been wheeled in. Fairy lights—how they were different than any other damn thing, he didn’t know—draped from his live oak tree and were threaded through all the fencing. As if that wasn’t enough, there were numerous lanterns flickering.

Almost all of the furniture from the main level had been moved into storage—the dining room set belonging to his grandparents, as well as the contemporary pieces he preferred. Rugs had been rolled up and hauled out, and pocket doors had been pushed all the way open so that the living room and parlor became a ballroom, as per the home’s original design.

Tall tables had been brought in and draped with white cloths and adorned with floating candles—since he had no idea what they were, he’d take the party planner’s word for it—and tiny vases of flowers. All of that had been irksome, but not as annoying as the hammering and pounding as a stage for the quartet had been erected. If he was smarter, he would have moved to a hotel for a couple of weeks.

However, none of the preparation explained why the very attractive Lizzie Ryan was in his closet. “As far as I know, my grandparents aren’t planning to give private tours of the master bedroom. My bedroom.”

“You’re right, of course.” Her face was scarlet, and she held his tie in a death grip. “I’ll just…”

He waited a full ten seconds before prompting, “You’ll just…?”

“Finish up here.”

“I asked what you were doing, Lizzie.”

“I heard you. I was ignoring you and the question.” She took a step back, but the shelving halted any further retreat. For as long as he wanted, she was trapped.

A pulse hammered in her throat, and it was maddening how much he liked it.

Braden moved toward her with purposeful intent, only stopping when he was mere inches from her. Desire, as carnal as it was forbidden, plowed into him. “Do you often trespass when I’m not here, Lizzie?”

“I…” Her voice cracked, and she took a breath to compose herself. Then, after a few seconds, her tone even, she went on. “This is the first time.”

That was probably the truth; after all, she hadn’t been here in years. At least not that he knew of. That didn’t stop him from fantasizing, just for a moment, that she’d been here before.

No doubt his imaginings were nefarious and her reason for being in his bedroom was innocent.

She extended her arms, holding the tie between them as a physical barrier as she explained herself. “It was under the couch in your living room.”

Was that where he’d dropped it? Then he remembered. Jennifer Pollis. The evening had been interesting. Well, right up until the moment that she mentioned the ways she might want to remodel the kitchen.

Immediately he’d dressed and fetched her purse. Even as she protested, he’d called for a driver to take her home.

“Instead of telling my mother where I found this, I decided to put it away myself. You could thank me for doing you a favor, but you won’t.”

He wondered how that quip didn’t draw blood. There was no doubt she’d grown up. In front of him was a confident woman, unimpressed by his money or…frankly, him.

Truthfully he shouldn’t be embarrassed that it was obvious he’d had sex in the living room. He was a grown man, and it was his house. And still, it did make him uncomfortable that she’d been the one to find it.

With her chin tipped back, she looked at him. “There’s plenty of work still to be done this evening. If you’ll excuse me?”

She shoved the tie at him.

“Did you try my drawers?” What the hell was wrong with him? He should let her go. But he had to know what she’d seen, and she was making no attempt to get past him.

Something was happening here, and he wasn’t sure what the hell it was. He was caught in an undertow, and he wanted to take her down with him. “Did you?”

“Yes.” The word was part whisper, part confession.

God help him, it made him hungry to hear vulgar words fall from her beautiful mouth. “So you discovered it doesn’t go in my top drawer, with my underwear.” The relatively few pair he wore. Mostly tight-fitting and moisture wicking for when he worked out. “Or in the second one, with my socks.”

She nodded.

“Did you open the one after that?”

“You came in before I got that far.” Her answer was quick. Far too quick.

Lizzie, the girl who’d become a desirable woman, was a pretty little liar. The way she glanced at the dresser—nervously and repeatedly—proved it. “Maybe you should see if that’s where it goes.”

“No.”

He grinned, a lightning-fast, triumphant response that he failed to hide. “So you do know what’s in there. You saw them, didn’t you?” The floggers, restraints, blindfolds, gags. And no doubt, also the rope that would wrap exquisitely around her tiny middle.

“Look, Braden, I’m here to help my mother with a very big job. It was never my intention to invade your privacy.”

“Lizzie. Lizzie. We both know the truth. It started that way. But it turned into snooping. It makes me wonder why.”

The scarlet flush deepened.

“I have a tie rack.” He reached over to push a button nestled on the wall. A board filled with neat, flat U-shaped hooks slid out. “For future reference, it goes there.” He hung it in place, right above a selection of whips and paddles.

“Uhm. I’ll be sure to remember that if I ever find your clothes on the floor after you’ve had a night of debauchery.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone use that word.” It was as brave as the tilt of her chin.

If she’d been scandalized when she opened his third drawer, she would have dropped the tie and run. Instead, she’d stayed. “Are you in the least bit curious?”

“Not at all. You have kinks. And that’s okay. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Ashamed?” He sure as fuck was not. “A taste for BDSM, a little tie-me-up, tie-me-down is fine, as long as it’s between consenting adults.”

“Agreed. No argument from me. As a member of your staff, you can count on my discretion.”

That was the last thing he wanted from her. “Stop the bullshit. You’re not staff.”

“Your signature is on my mother’s paycheck.” Her shoulders were straighter, as if she’d donned an invisible set of armor. “She serves at your pleasure, and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

“Over you being in my closet? You think I’d fire someone who’s essential to my family, who has been with me since I was a child, who at times was more caring than my own mother…” Anger seared, fed by Lizzie’s thoughtless insensitivity. Her mother, Eileen Ryan, had wiped his tears, helped him through his grief, showed up once for a parent-teacher conference after his dad had left and his mother was in bed for the third day in a row and he, a nine-year-old, hadn’t understood why. “What the fuck kind of man do you think I am?”

“You have a reasonable expectation of privacy in your own home, even when your housekeeper—”

Lizzie’s soothing, placating tone pissed him off.

“Honestly, Braden, all I wanted to do was put your tie back where it belonged. Not cause upset.”

He’d fucking heard enough.

Braden grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up, until her prim-and-proper little heels were inches off the hardwood floor. “Don’t you ever, ever say anything like that again.”

Her mouth parted, and she sucked a tiny breath.

“Your mother can work here as long as she wants. She’s more than a damn employee to me, and you know it.” A lifetime ago, he and Lizzie had sat across the kitchen island from each other, drinking milk and eating chocolate chip cookies after school. But now, this woman had the face and body of a goddess, and she was cursed with the tongue of a hellion. “You’ve dealt me the greatest insult I’ve ever received.”

“Braden—”

With his mouth, his kiss, his absolute fucking anger, he silenced her.

He used his tongue to press past her sealed lips, seeking entrance.

Braden knew what polite society said behind his back. That he was rich, privileged from birth. That his behavior was, at best, scandalous. At worst, reckless.

But he’d never had the one thing he needed most. Love. Others received it, but it had never been meant for him.

His life experiences had hardened him. To cope, he’d walled off his emotions. Despite that, he thought the world of women, and he enjoyed spoiling them with meals and gifts, and sex. His particular fondness was for BDSM. The sweet sigh of a submissive’s surrender was the most beautiful sound in the world.

He’d been careful to never make promises, and he didn’t utter careless words of affection. One date accused him of being emotionally cold. She’d been right.

But in under five minutes, Lizzie had pissed him off and simultaneously intrigued him.

At first, he tasted the tang of her resistance. Her eyes were wide, and she kept her body rigid. And then…

He softened the kiss.

He no longer wanted to punish her thoughtless words. Instead he hungered to know more about her. Was she as passionate as she was standoffish? Was she at all curious about what she’d found in his closet? Would her capitulation be as mind-blowing as he imagined it might be?

In his arms, Lizzie moaned. It was soft, more a whimper than anything, and yet it stoked the flame inside him.

He pulled her closer and tasted her deeper. She no longer resisted him. Instead, she leaned into him.

Braden was there for her, pressing one hand to the small of her back. With the other he tugged the pin from her hair and sent her brunette tresses cascading over her shoulders and down her back.

She was the sexiest woman he’d ever had in his arms.

Earlier, she might have had a glass of wine. There was sweetness from the grapes, and perhaps the drying bitterness of tannins all rolled into one and wrapped in her response.

Like a dying man, he was mad for more.

Braden plundered her mouth, and as the moments passed, she linked her hands behind his neck and offered herself to him.

She met his thrust with her parry. What they shared was heated with an intensity unlike any other, threatening him with combustion.

He wanted surrender as much as her demands.

Finally, when neither could breathe, he pulled back a little. But even that was too much. Instantly, he claimed her mouth again, and her blazing response seared him.

She kissed him back, as demanding as he’d been. She wasn’t the aggressor. Not at all. Instead, what she offered was a timeless acknowledgment of the passion between them.

Minutes ago, they might have had a verbal parry and thrust, but this was as honest as it got. Lizzie—Elizabeth—was as interested in him as he was in her. She hadn’t run when she saw his implements of pleasure and pain, even though she lacked the courage to admit her curiosity.

There was something here. Something neither of them dared do anything about.

If he didn’t have morals, he’d close the door behind him, lock it, then strip her down. She’d let him, too. The sexual hunger in the air told him that.

He’d wrap her wrists with his red tie and then secure her to the clothes bar above them. After he’d aroused her, he’d spank her ass and fuck her hard from behind. He’d take everything she offered and even some she didn’t.

At the end of it all, when he released her, she would have no doubt who owned her, and the only sound from her mouth would be her gratitude.

But damn it all, he cared about what she thought of him. He couldn’t fuck her and send her on her way like he did countless others.

Lizzie Ryan deserved to be treated like the princess her mother believed her to be. And by God, he would do that.

Even though, right this moment, he would rather die instead.

* * * *

The dress wasn’t for Braden. How many times have I told myself that?

Lizzie reminded herself that she was attending the event as hired help and nothing more. And she had three or four garments in her closet that were suitable for this evening’s party.

No doubt she would have pulled something off a hanger and thrown it on as she left her house—except for the fact that the world’s most annoying billionaire, Braden Gallagher, had lit up her entire world yesterday.

It had been years since she saw him, and her reaction to him had shattered her.

In her late teens, on the cusp of womanhood, she’d had a crush on the older, more sophisticated boy. What girl wouldn’t? Especially one who came from a much poorer background.

Braden had it all. He was gorgeous, came from a perfect family, had a beautiful home where everything—air-conditioning, even heating—worked perfectly at the flip of a switch. Every part of his life was charmed. Not only did he get good grades, he was the captain of the football team. It seemed he had a different girlfriend almost every week. And numerous colleges sent him coveted acceptance letters.

As if that hadn’t been enough to capture her schoolgirl fantasies, he was kind to her. She didn’t see him much, mostly because he wasn’t at his home when she was there with her mom. After school, Lizzie’s aunt would sometimes drop her off at the Gallaghers’ house. Once Lizzie finished her homework, she helped cook dinner. If he didn’t have a game or practice, he’d hang out in the kitchen too.

One time, he’d arrived home from graduate school while she was showing off her prom dress for her mom.

She’d been embarrassed when he came in with a couple of friends, but he’d told her how pretty she was and how lucky her date was.

He and his friends had grabbed water and sports drinks from the refrigerator before heading out to the pool, but he’d stopped at the door, looked back over his shoulder, and smiled at her.

Lizzie had almost swooned. His words, quick as they were, gave her more confidence than she’d known in her entire eighteen years.

Even though she now had a degree of her own and a successful career, she was shocked to discover he still held enormous power over her.

Having him find her in his closet had been humiliating. If she were smarter, she would have pushed past him and escaped back down the stairs.

Instead, she stayed, every part of her wanting to be near him, soaking up his attention.

Braden was impossibly tall, so much broader than she remembered. And he was unbelievably fit, without an ounce of fat anywhere. His dark hair was a bit on the long side, making him appear rakish. But it was his eyes that startled her. They were a grayish color, not quite green but not really blue. They were more like steel when it glinted in the sun.

Power cloaked him, and he wore it with as much ease as he did his tailored suit.

He was right, also, when he accused her of snooping.

She had been, and her lie had been brazen, and of course he’d seen right through it. While she had no real-world experience with the things in his third drawer, she was curious. A few of her friends were into it, and the ones who were married seemed to have authentic and deeply connected relationships. But she’d never met anyone she was interested in trying it with.

If Braden had arrived a few seconds before he did, he might have found her tracing her fingers over the skeins of silky white rope.

That hadn’t been what kept her awake for most of the night. His kiss had done that.

His fury at her words had left her reeling. She’d been reminding them both of her station in life, as well as seizing on any excuse to get away from him. The more she talked, the angrier he’d gotten. The first demanding moments when he’d held her tight had thrown her world out of its neatly structured orbit, and she hadn’t known how to react. No man had ever been that physical with her before.

Lizzie’s father had abandoned her mother while she was still pregnant. Because she’d seen how hard Eileen worked to make their lives better, Lizzie had kept herself focused on school, then work. She hadn’t avoided men intentionally. Rather, she refused to let herself fall into emotional traps. Her girlfriends did plenty of crying over boys who hurt them, and some of them continued to do so. Lizzie was different. She was looking for a commitment. Love wasn’t enough for her. She wanted a man who was steady and would respect their wedding vows. Eventually she wanted children, and she expected her husband to be an engaged father. And she let her dates know that early on.

Which made her behavior with Braden unfathomable.

He was the absolute last man on the planet she should kiss.

Behind his back, he was called the Scandalous Billionaire for a reason. He was often featured on gossip blogs, paired with different women. Rumors swirled about his liaisons, and once, he and a female companion had been caught in a compromising situation as his limousine had arrived for a massive Mardi Gras party on Galveston’s Pier 21. Unexpectedly, a hired greeter had opened the back door before Braden and his companion were ready. Though they brazened it out, pretending nothing had happened, there were pictures, fortunately blurry enough for the couple to deny that it was them in the photo.

If Lizzie was going to choose someone to break all of her self-imposed rules with, she should select someone who wasn’t a cad.

Unfortunately, last night he’d curled her toes as no one else ever had.

“Girl! What are you doing in there? I want to see the dress!” Crystal, her friend, pounded on the door, no doubt annoying the hell out of the very professional sales associates at one of Houston’s exclusive boutiques at the shopping mecca known as the Galleria.

Stalling, once again lying to herself that she wasn’t trying to impress Braden, Lizzie spun a slow, critical circle in the dressing room mirror.

The little black gown was stunning. The material fit her hips tightly, and the back had a slight V cutout. With its capped sleeves, the dress was simultaneously enticing and sedate.

“I mean it! Open up, Lizzie!” Crystal began knocking again, with every bit as much power as before.

“Okay, okay!” With a quick twist of her wrist, Lizzie unlocked the door.

“Girl!” Crystal exclaimed.

“Does that mean you like it?”

“Damn right I do.”

The dress was shorter than Lizzie normally chose, and she tugged down slightly on the hem.

“Don’t you dare do that. Show off them legs. That’s why you drag me to sweaty yoga three days a week.”

Actually, Lizzie went mainly to quiet her mind so she could escape the stress of her demanding job. The physical results were a bonus. “It’s hot yoga.”

“You call it anything you want. After five minutes, there’s even underboob sweat. And I swear you’re a masochist. The Painmaker is brutal.”

Her physical trainer wasn’t exactly a pain maker, but close enough. At first, she and Crystal had gone together. Then one time, while doing a pushup, Crystal collapsed into a heap on the mat and announced she was never doing that again. She went to the locker room and never walked through the door of the fitness center ever again.

“Look at yourself. You totally rock that dress.”

Lizzy wrinkled her nose. Even though she worked out, her body wasn’t close to perfect, but the cut of the dress accented all her positive attributes and downplayed the ones she was most critical of. The dress was meant for her.

“Are you going to buy it?”

The saleswoman breezed in and bubbled over with effusive compliments. Crystal rolled her eyes and propped a hand on her hip.

For a third time, Lizzie looked at the price tag. Really, she should wear something already hanging in her closest. But after yoga and a quick shower followed by a trip to the coffeeshop, Crystal suggested they go shopping—not that either of them needed an excuse.

“You know what they say,” Crystal started. “Don’t look at the amount. Figure out how many times you’re going to it wear it, and calculate the cost that way. So, if you go to another five parties, the dress is…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I suck at math. But it’s practically free.”

“You’re no help.” Not once had her friend tried to talk Lizzie out of buying something. Crystal was a world-class instigator, seeming to get as much pleasure out of Lizzie’s purchases as she did herself.

“But you dress up all the time.”

She did. Lizzie worked for the Sterling brand of hotels, and she worked on opening new properties for the chain. As part of her job, she attended numerous events where they hosted exclusive parties for event and wedding planners. They also did soft openings for the bars and restaurants, and those were also upscale. At the beginning of a job, she’d be in a hardhat. By the time she was ready to wrap it up, she was in tall heels and gowns.

“I’m telling you this.” Crystal leaned forward, going for the kill. “If I wanted to do the dirty with Braden Gallagher, I’d buy it.”

Lizzie gasped. “I don’t want to sleep with him!”

“Uh-huh.”

Okay. So maybe she did.

Wrinkling her nose, she gave herself one last critical stare.

“You’re getting it, aren’t you?” Crystal whooped.

Nerves skidded through her tummy. “Yes.” There were a dozen reasons she shouldn’t. Braden Gallagher was dangerous. His kiss had been possessive—frighteningly so. And while he’d held her close, his erection pressed against her. He wanted her, and she wanted him.

For the first time in her life, Lizzy was feeling reckless.

“You look absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

Lizzie froze as Braden captured her wrist. Then gently he drew her away from the party, behind a potted palm where they’d be safe from the glare of the lights and prying eyes.

Lost in his gaze, she couldn’t breathe.

Everything except Braden disappeared. The music spilling from inside the house and voices from the partygoers on the pool deck fell silent, replaced by the sound of her rushing heartbeat.

“I’ve been waiting all evening for a chance to be alone with you.”

As Lizzie dressed and applied her makeup earlier in the evening, she’d been hoping for this reaction. And yet… Just like yesterday, being the focus of Braden’s attention overwhelmed her. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking.” She was fairly certain she knew exactly what was going through his mind. “Dinner will be served in a little while, and there are things I need to take care of.” Though his mother had hired an official event planner, Lizzie was helping out, and there were myriad last-minute details that still needed to be handled.

“You’re wearing that dress for me.”

She gasped, hoping to hide her reaction. How had he seen through her so effortlessly? “I did not.”

“You most certainly did.” His grin was slow and confident. “And I’m glad. I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the moment I first saw you tonight.”

Though she’d never admit it, that idea consumed her as well.

Because she knew parking would be at a premium, she’d decided to use a car service rather than driving herself. Braden had waved off the attendants hired for the evening and strode over to help her from the vehicle, as if she were one of the guests.

He’d stolen her breath.

Yesterday, in a suit, he was handsome. Today, in a tuxedo, he was devastating. There were any number of beautiful socialites at the event, but he only had eyes for her.

He leaned a little closer to her.

“Braden…”

“You’re a siren, sent to tempt me.”

Why her? Because she was off-limits?

“Kiss me, Lizzie.”

This time, he was asking. There was no anger behind it, and he wanted her to be the one to initiate it. The truth was, she had no idea what she was supposed to do. “I’ve never… I mean…”

“Fuck.” His voice was hoarse, gruff, maybe from anticipation or need. Regardless, it stirred an undeniable response in her.

Lizzie was wearing her highest heels, and she still had to lift up to brush her lips against his.

“What do I smell? Perfume?”

She didn’t normally wear any, but today she’d selected something light, with the faintest hint of honeysuckle, and she’d dabbed a little on her pulse points. “Yes.”

“I like it. Put your arms around my neck.” Instead of waiting for her to follow his instruction, he gently took hold of her and guided her into place. “Better?”

“Yes.” Again, with more confidence, she gave him another gentle kiss.

“Woman, your beautiful innocence might be the death of me.”

Unsurprisingly Braden then took control. He kissed her, but in a totally different way than he had last night. This time, he was gentle, coaxing a response rather than insisting on one.

She tasted something strong and masculine on him, perhaps whiskey.

As the seconds passed, she relaxed into him, and he pressed one hand against her back and tucked the other into her hair. When he invited her closer, she went. His groan of appreciation reverberated through her, daring her to be bolder, and she opened her mouth wider.

He pulled back long enough to meet her gaze, then seized her mouth again.

Was this how he made love? As if it was the only thing that mattered?

But what about the things she’d seen in his closet? She shuddered, imagining him wrapping her in that white rope and trailing the soft strands of the flogger over her body. From yesterday, she knew he wasn’t always gentle, but even then, he’d never lost control. So he might do more than caress her with the strips of leather.

Heat pooled through her. Who was this newer, more reckless Lizzie? She was seconds away from reaching for his tie and plucking the ends loose.

She was grateful when he ended the kiss and reached back to unlink her arms.

“We have to stop right this moment. Otherwise we’re leaving the party and never coming back.”

He was being rational. Thank God he was capable of it, because she wasn’t sure that she was.

With his thumbnail, Braden traced her swollen mouth. There was a tiny fairy light behind them, enough for her to see a glint from his ring. She glanced at the piece of jewelry, expecting to see his college insignia on it. Instead there was an owl on it, with tiny emeralds for eyes. Before she could ask about it, Braden spoke again.

“Don’t freshen up your lipstick. When I look at you for the rest of the night, I want to know I was the one who did it to you.”

Because she didn’t know what to say, she ran a hand across the front of her dress, then unconsciously tugged at the hem.

“I don’t want to get back. But people will be wondering where we are.”

His words were a splash of reality in her face.

This interlude had been stupid. What if someone had noticed him stealing her away from the party? His reputation would be fine. After all, his conquests were legendary. But she didn’t want to be whispered about.

He looked around the enormous plant, then glanced back at her. “It’s safe. You can go. I’ll follow in about thirty seconds.”

Suspecting she’d gone a little mad since yesterday, she tore her gaze away from his, then double-checked that there was no one around before stepping out and making a beeline toward the house.

“Elizabeth?”

She’d almost made it across the concrete patio when a familiar voice stopped her. Rafe? Her heart somewhere in the vicinity of her knees, she turned to her boss.

Rafe Sterling owned thousands of hotels worldwide, and she was fortunate to work for him. She’d only been able to afford to attend a community college, but she’d worked damn hard to earn good grades, and she’d won a scholarship to Houston’s biggest university.

A few years ago, his company founded the hospitality school that she’d attended. Students ran the Sterling University Hotel, as well as the restaurants and coffee shop there. It afforded an unusual learning experience. In her years there, she’d served in every position, from waitstaff, to housekeeping, to barista, cashier, to front desk clerk. She’d even been a bellhop and concierge. She’d particularly enjoyed her stint as a valet because she’d had the opportunity to drive both a Ferrari and a Lamborghini.

During the last year of her studies, she’d moved into management of various departments. And because she was at the top of her class, for the final months, she’d served as the hotel’s general manager.

Rafe himself had stayed there and had met with her.

After graduation, he’d offered her a job.

She’d spent a year abroad serving an externship of sorts, learning more about his business model and honing her customer service skills.

When she returned, Rafe approached her about moving into her current position. He’d told her it would be terribly demanding and cut her social life into tiny ribbons. But because of her experience in every facet of his operations, she was perfect for the job. It was only later that she learned that his other openers had fifteen to twenty years of on-the-job training.

Still, it was perfect for her. Houston was home. Since her next posting could take her anywhere in the world, she was determined to enjoy as much time as she could with her friends and family members. “Mr. Sterling! How nice to see you.”

“Rafe,” he corrected, as always. “Please.” He shook her hand. “The Gallaghers and Sterlings have been friends for years.”

That shouldn’t have surprised her. Both families were from old money, and no doubt they shared a social circle.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She would never be included on the guest list. At the moment, she was so far out of her depth that she wanted the world to swallow her whole. “My mother has been the housekeeper here for almost twenty-five years.” From the time she discovered she was pregnant with Lizzie, scared and alone. Lizzie shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of her boss, but unaccountably she was. “I’m here to help out.”

“They’re lucky to have you.”

As always, Rafe Sterling was a gentleman, and she was grateful. “Is Hope with you?” She was referring to his fiancée, the renowned Houston matchmaker. Not only was Hope a strategic businesswoman responsible for a number of recent, high-profile weddings; she was as gorgeous as she was lovely. Having her here would ease the awkwardness.

“No. Unfortunately she’s traveling.”

“Will you give her my regards?” To make a getaway, she switched back to a role she knew well—hospitality. “May I offer you a glass of champagne? There’s also a full bar with your favorite whiskey.”

“I’ve kept you long enough. I apologize.”

“Ah, Rafe!”

Even though he was behind her, Braden’s deep, sensual voice drizzled down her spine. “Enjoy your evening,” she said to her boss. She started to walk away, but Braden was there, momentarily touching her back while taking his place beside her.

“How are you?” The two men shook hands. In the reflection of the light, she realized that Rafe also had an owl on his ring. “I see you’ve met Lizzie.”

“I’ve known Elizabeth for some time. In fact, she’s one of Sterling’s greatest assets.”

“Oh?” Braden asked as he lowered his hand.

“She’s one of my openers.” When Braden didn’t respond, Rafe went on with an explanation. “Every time we open a new property, I assign someone to oversee every aspect—sales, food and beverage, training, customer service, amenities, IT, that sort of thing. Of course, each department has its own manager, but they all report to that one key person until I bring on an operations director. The opener stays on the job through the first few weeks to ensure a smooth transition. It’s a relatively new position, and we’ve found it adds a layer of continuity that was sometimes missing.”

“Impressive. I had no idea.” Braden placed his hand on her again, this time in the spot where the dress plunged into the deep V. His touch was as intimate as it was proprietorial. Turning toward her, he went on. “You know how to run every department in the hotel and take care of all the details that go into the grand opening?”

Uncomfortable at being the center of attention, as well as with the way her body was responding to Braden with a rush of pheromones, she shrugged. “Mr. Sterling is generous. His training program was comprehensive.”

“As you might imagine, I don’t hire from the outside for this position. I recruit from the top one percent of my team.”

“Aren’t you afraid someone will steal her away?”

What the hell kind of question was that? And how was Rafe supposed to answer it? In silent warning, she unobtrusively placed her stiletto on Braden’s foot. If he continued, she wouldn’t hesitate to bring him to his knees.

“Am I afraid someone will steal her away? Every damn day.” With an eyebrow raised, Rafe considered Braden. “Should I be?”

Suddenly this was beyond absurd. “Gentlemen, Sterling Worldwide has my complete loyalty. I intend to be there as long as they will have me. If you’ll excuse me?”

Lizzie escaped Braden’s heated touch and hurried inside of the house, where she paused for a second to collect herself. She took a steadying breath and reminded herself she was a professional businesswoman, and she was here tonight as part of the staff.

Her mother was frowning. Obviously, from her vantage point behind the kitchen island, she’d seen the entire exchange. Damn.

“What is it?” Lizzie asked.

“They’re both still watching you.”

Every one of Lizzie’s impulses demanded that she look over her shoulder, and it took all of her self-control not to.

“What is all that about?” Eileen asked.

“I honestly have no idea.” Lizzie shook her head. Braden Gallagher had acted possessive of her, in front of her boss, which was absurd. She and Braden had shared a kiss or two, hardly enough for him to feel as if he had the right to behave that way. “What can I help with?” She diverted her mother back to party responsibilities, which was Lizzie’s best way out of the conversation. After all, there was no way she was going to confess that she’d behaved badly with Braden a few minutes ago.

One of the bartenders popped her head inside the room. “We need more champagne.”

Lizzie seized the opportunity to escape. “I’ll handle it.”

“Do you know where it is?” Eileen pointed toward the farthest end of the house. “In the study.”

Interesting. That was one of the few rooms in the house that she’d never been in. Though her mother dusted and swept the room periodically, Braden reportedly never used it. The space had been designed by his grandfather and then occupied by his father, but Braden had opted to have an office upstairs.

At the end of the hallway, Lizzie turned the handle and pushed the door open. No wonder he didn’t come in here. With its oak paneling and heavy leather furniture and a Tiffany lamp, it was all but a shrine to a bygone era. Trophies lined built-in shelves. College pennants and Greek symbols were tacked up. Framed pictures were hung from the walls.

Though she should grab a few bottles of champagne from the refrigerator that had been temporarily installed in the room, she couldn’t resist a closer look at the black-and-white photographs. She recognized Braden’s grandfather shaking hands with a man who’d been the president of the United States. In another he was standing next to an astronaut.

She glanced around, taking in the rest of the photos, some featuring Braden’s father. There were a number of people she didn’t recognize in the shots, but more than a few that she did. Actors, performers, politicians, scientists.

On the oversize and intricately carved desk, there was an owl with emerald eyes, flanked by laurel leaves—a much larger replica of the one on Braden’s ring.

Intrigued, she returned to the photo of Braden’s grandfather shaking hands with the president.

Both of their rings bore the same owl.

She glanced around again, taking in the lowercase Greek Z on a banner. What in the world? Some sort of fraternity? It was another reminder of how little she knew about the man who’d kissed her.

From outside, the sound of laughter reached her, jolting her back to reality.

Quickly, she grabbed half a dozen bottles of champagne, loaded them into a box, then hurried back to the kitchen, where she gave them to the party planner, who’d been on her way to find out what was keeping Lizzie.

Eileen frowned at her.

“I was being nosy. Is Braden in a fraternity?”

“Of a sort.” Eileen turned on the faucet and began rinsing dishes.

Odd. Her mother wasn’t generally evasive, which heightened Lizzie’s curiosity. “Along with the president of the United States?” Maybe it was a college thing. No doubt all the Gallagher men had attended the same one.

“Hmm.”

“Mom?”

“If you want to know anything more, you will have to ask Braden.” With that, Eileen returned to work.

Waitstaff began letting guests know that dinner was being served in the tents. Afterward, there would be announcements and a toast celebrating Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher’s anniversary. Cake and coffee would follow, and at the same time, the quartet would begin playing in the ballroom.

Because they had a short break, Lizzie and her mother ate a small meal in the kitchen. Eileen steered the conversation toward their own family.

“Will you be there tomorrow night?”

Lizzie’s aunt Virginia had married into a large Latino family, and she’d enthusiastically embraced the culture. Now every Sunday, Virginia made dinner for anyone who wanted to come over. Recently, one of her sons had started distilling his own tequila, and each time he came, he brought a bottle or two. The gathering was now known as the Triple T—tamales, tacos, and tequila. Some weeks only a few people showed up, but at times, there were as many as thirty attendees.

“Sandra is bringing the baby.”

“Then I’ll definitely be there.” Lizzie grinned. She hadn’t gotten to meet her cousin’s newborn, and she was looking forward to snuggling the little bundle of joy.

Their conversation was interrupted by the party planner entering the house. “Do you mind letting the band know it’s time for them to start?”

“Happy to.” After snatching a mint from a bowl on the counter, Lizzie went into the ballroom and chatted with the band, making sure that they had beverages. Then she double-checked that the two people behind the small makeshift bar were all set.

“We may need some more bottled water. It’s pretty hot tonight.”

“Good idea.”

A half hour later, as more and more people drifted inside, the atmosphere around her became supercharged. Braden. Even without seeing him or hearing him speak, she knew he was there.

“Dance with me?”

His deep and rich voice slid over her, awakening an immediate response in her. Despite her best efforts to avoid him, he’d found her, making her wonder if he’d been looking for her.

Lizzie turned to face him, all the while looking for an excuse to escape. A few couples were already swaying to an old Frank Sinatra song. The bartender in the corner was mixing a drink. Everything was under control. “I was just going to check on…” What? The idea of being in his arms again made rational thought vanish. In a rushed whisper, she finished her sentence. “Something.”

“I’m sure you won’t be missed for the next three minutes.”

How could he not understand her position? “I can’t.” She couldn’t, no matter how much she wanted to. “The host doesn’t fraternize with the help.”

“Fraternize, is it?” A smile played around his mouth.

Since he’d found her in his closet, he’d been gruff, serious, and enticingly sexy. But this softer side of him was irresistible. “People will talk.”

“I don’t spend a lot of time concerned about that.”

“You might not. But I do.” Her mom would have questions, and perhaps his mother as well.

He shrugged. “You’re the help. Do I understand that correctly? So in this instance, it makes me your boss?”

“Don’t.” She saw where he was going. “That’s sneaky, using my words against me.” The billionaire was as determined as he was clever.

“It’s only a dance.” His voice was persuasive. “In front of all these people.” He waved his hand, then leaned in a little closer. “It’s not an all-out attempt at seduction.”

Oh, but it is. And it was working.

“There are only about two minutes left in the song. What harm could there be?”

To her? A lot. She wasn’t a woman capable of switching her emotions on and off.

“We can do it here. Away from prying eyes.”

“Braden.”

“Say yes.”

Without giving her time to protest, he wrapped his arms around her, claiming her the moment she agreed.

Braden held her tight, as if he never wanted to let her go. At first, she held her body rigid, but he was a force of nature, and she was powerless to resist him.

“We fit together nice.”

He was right, but for the sake of her sanity, she couldn’t agree.

“Makes me wonder what else would be perfect between us.”

For a moment, no one else existed, and she realized why so many women fell for him. She’d been tempting fate when she bought this dress, swiped on the lipstick, and dabbed on the drops of fragrance.

His grip was light, and for one tantalizing minute, she wondered what it might be like if she were his social equal, if he was interested in her as a woman. Since both thoughts were ludicrous, she shooed them away.

She had found success in her life because she didn’t allow men to distract her. Lizzie told herself to remember that.

When the song ended, she pulled back, desperate to get away. “Thank you.” She forced a polite smile as she reminded herself that it had only been yesterday that she’d found his tie under the couch in the living room.

This billionaire was a complete scoundrel. And Elizabeth Ryan was too smart to become another in his long line of conquests.

* * * *

“You should stay.”

Shocked, Lizzie turned. Braden’s shoulders were propped on one of the thick sliding-glass partitions that had recently been closed.

Outside, a few torches still flickered, and the fairy lights danced in the gentle breeze. The party had ended almost an hour ago, but it had taken that long for the caterers to clean up and for her and her mother to put the kitchen to rights again.

Lizzie had walked her mother to her car before returning for her cell phone to request a car.

It had been a long night. Her feet throbbed, and she longed to slip out of her heels. At the very least, she should have brought a second pair of shoes to change into. But when she left the house, she’d been thinking about what would complement the dress…and about the way her calves would look in them.

“I mean it. There’s no need to leave.”

His suggestion was ludicrous, and she needed to refuse right away.

“It’s late.” He glanced at the massive clock on the kitchen wall and winced. “Or early, depending on your point of view.”

All the more reason for her to leave now.

“You’ve been working hard on this event for at least two days. I’ve got a soaker tub you might enjoy.”

Her rented home was small and only had a shower in the master suite, and there were times she missed taking a long bath. But she wasn’t an idiot. She knew there was only one soaker tub in his house. And that was in the master suite.

“I have plenty of guest rooms.” He grinned. “Not really sure how many.”

“Eight.” She knew; after all, there’d been many times she’d helped her mother change the sheets on all of the beds.

“I give you my word as a gentleman that I’ll behave.” He raised his right hand.

That was the biggest part of this whole problem. Part of her didn’t want him to keep his distance. She wanted to be ravaged by him, swept away for once in her life.

“You can be asleep before you’d even arrive home—well, depending on where you live in the city.”

After their dance earlier, she’d done her best to avoid Braden. That wasn’t easy, though. All of her instincts were attuned to him. If he came within fifty feet of her, tiny goose bumps chased down her arms. She could pick out the timbre of his baritone voice in a roomful of men.

Now, he was even more enticing. He’d discarded his jacket and unknotted his bow tie, leaving the ends dangling starkly against his crisp white shirt. The look was every bit as sexy as she’d earlier imagined it might be.

“What do you say?”

Survival instinct screamed no. But instead, she exhaled a shaky breath and gave him a wobbly grin. “You had me at soaker tub.”