The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 1) Read online

  The edge of Reese’s mouth moved sideways, sliding the stubble into an even more appealing pattern. But she wasn’t here to be insulted or patronized.

  “I heard some news,” she said.

  He didn’t bite.

  “Your father purchased the Van Heusen,” she continued.

  “He added it to the family portfolio, yes,” he responded coolly.

  Portfolio. She felt her lip curl. To him, the VH was a number on a spreadsheet. Nothing more. Which could also mean he didn’t care enough about it to continue with these ridiculous changes.

  “There’s been an error. My mother is under the impression that many of the nostalgic and antique fixtures in the building will be replaced.” She plunked down the heavy doorknob on his desk. A pool of rainwater gathered on his leather blotter.

  Reese sucked in a breath through his nose and moved to his desk—a block of black wood the color of his heart—and rested one hand on the back of a shiny leather chair.

  “Have a seat.” He had manly hands for a guy who spent his days in an office and spare time eating souls, and they were about as disturbingly masculine as the scruff lining his jaw.

  She didn’t want to sit. She wanted to march over there and slap the pompous smirk off his face. Then she remembered her compromised top, refolded her arms over her breasts, and sat as requested.

  You win this round, Crane.

  Reese lowered himself into his chair and pressed a button on his phone. “Bobbie, Ms. Van Heusen will need a car in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  So he’d deigned to carve out fifteen minutes for Merina. Lucky her.

  “I don’t want a car.”

  “No? You’re planning on walking back?” Even sitting, he exuded power. Broad, strong shoulders filled out his dark jacket, and a gray tie with a silver sheen arrowed down a crisp white shirt.

  “Yes.” She wondered what time of day he finally gave up and yanked the perfect knot out of that tie. When he surrendered the top button. Another flare of heat shot through her. She hated the way he affected her. She was just so damn aware of him.

  It was unfair. She frowned.

  “You were saying something about horseshit,” he said smoothly, and she realized she had been sitting there glaring at him in silence for a long while.

  She cleared her throat and plowed through what she needed to tell him.

  “You can’t redesign the Van Heusen Hotel. It’s a landmark. Did you know the hotel was the first to install elevators? The hotel’s chef created the snickerdoodle. That building is an integral thread woven into the fabric of this city.”

  She pressed her lips together. Perhaps she was being a tad theatrical, but the Van Heusen did have historical importance to the city, and beyond that, a personal history to her. She’d gone to college straight from high school and graduated with her business degree, her dream to run the Van Heusen. A dream she’d realized and was currently living until this little snafu.

  “Born and raised in Chicago, Ms. Van Heusen. You’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” he said, sounding bored.

  “Then you know remodeling the Van Heusen makes no sense,” she continued, using her best ally: reason. “Our hotel is known for its style. Guests come there to experience a living, breathing piece of Chicago.” She stopped short of going into a monologue about how even the fires couldn’t destroy the dream but opted against it.

  “My hotel, Ms. Van Heusen,” he corrected.

  His. A fact she’d gleaned only a few minutes ago. A dart of pain shot through the center of her chest. She should have demanded to see the contract her parents signed before sloshing over here in a downpour and parading her nipples for Mr. Suit & Beard. She was almost as pissed at them for keeping this from her as she was for Crane thinking he could strut in and take over.

  “No matter who owns the building, you have to know that robbing the Van Heusen of its style will make it just another whitewashed, dull hotel,” she said.

  Her stomach churned. If she had to bear witness to them ripping up the carpeting and replacing it with white shining tile or see a Dumpster filled with antique doorknobs, she might just lose her mind. The hand-carved molding, the ceiling medallions…each piece of the VH had been preserved to keep the integrity of the past. And now Reese wanted to erase it.

  She heard the sadness creep into her voice when she ventured, “Surely there’s another way.”

  He didn’t respond to this. Instead he pointed out, “Your parents have been in the red for nearly two years.”

  She felt her eyes go wide. Two years?

  “I gather this is news to you,” he added, then continued. “Your father’s hospital bills put them further in debt.”

  He was referring to her dad’s heart attack last year. Merina had no idea the bills had buried them. She lived in the same house. How had they hidden this from her?

  “They came to us to buy the building and we did,” Reese said. “I could have fired them, but I didn’t. I offered a generous pension plan if they stayed on through the remodel.”

  A shake worked up her arms and branched over her shoulders. Pension?

  “I take it you didn’t know that either.”

  “They didn’t want to worry me,” she said flatly, but it didn’t take the sting from the truth. They’d kept everything from her.

  Her pie-in-the-sky parents who loved that building arguably as much as they loved each other had to have gone to Big Crane as a last resort. They’d overlooked he had Satan for a son.

  “They trusted your father to take care of them,” she said, her anger blooming anew. “Then you waltz in and wipe them out.”

  “My father likes your parents, but this isn’t about what nice people they are,” Satan continued. “He mentioned how well they’d maintained the local landmark with what funds they had available.”

  Merina’s nostrils flared as she inhaled some much-needed oxygen. Her parents had cared for and upgraded the Van Heusen as best they could, but face it, her family didn’t have the billion-dollar bankroll the Cranes had.

  “Your father is a wise man,” she said, pitting the two men against each other. Sure enough, a flicker of challenge shone in Reese’s navy eyes. “I doubt his intention when he purchased the Van Heusen was to turn it into a mini-me of the Crane.”

  “My father is retiring in a few months. He’s made it clear the future of the Van Heusen is in my hands.” Reese shrugged, which made him look relaxed and made her pulse skyrocket. “I fail to see the charm in the funky, run-down boutique hotel, and I assume most visitors do as well.”

  Funky? Just who did this jerk-off think he was?

  “Do you know how many Hollywood actors have dined in our restaurant?” she blurted. “Hemingway wrote part of his memoir sitting on the velvet chair in the lobby!”

  “I thought he mostly wrote in Key West.”

  “Rumors,” she hissed.

  A smirk slid over his lips in a look that likely melted his fan club’s collective underpants, but it had no effect on her. Not now that she knew how far he was taking this.

  “You have outdated heating and air,” he said, “elevators that are so close to violating safety codes, you may as well install ladders for the guests on the upper floors, and the wood putty isn’t fooling anyone, Merina.”

  At the cool pronouncement of her name, she sat straighter. She’d been told last month that the building inspector had come by for a reassessment for property value, not that he’d be feeding information to the vulture sitting across from her now.

  She’d clearly been left out of a lot of discussions.

  “The elevators are original to the building.”

  “It shows.” He offered a slow blink. “The Van Heusen is stodgy and outdated, and revenue is falling more each quarter. I’m doing your parents a favor by offering them a way out of what will be nothing but a future of headaches.” Reese folded his hands on the desk blotter, expertly avoiding the water gathered there. A large-face
d watch peeked out from the edge of his shirt, the sleeves adorned with a pair of onyx and platinum cuff links. “The Crane branding is strong, our business plan seamless. If you love the building as much as you claim to, you’d support the efforts to increase the traffic. We’ll see profits double with an upgrade.” He shook his head. “But not with your parents there. And not with you there.”

  A shiver climbed her spine, the rain and Reese’s words having sunk right into her bone marrow. Wait. Was he suggesting…

  “You’re…firing…me?”

  He remained stoically silent.

  “My family’s goddamn name is on the marquee, Crane!” She shot out of her seat and pressed her fingertips onto his desk. Shining, perfect, unscarred. No character. No soul. No history.

  Like Reese Crane himself.

  “Your family’s name will remain on the building,” he stated calmly. And while those words tumbled around her brain and set fire to the fury that he’d put on to sear, he added, “Your parents are getting close to retirement age. Are you sure you swam over here on their behalf? Or is this about you?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” she said too quickly. She wasn’t sure at all. Her world had been upended. Like when she’d learned there was no Santa Claus and that her dad had been sneaking downstairs to eat the Oreos all those years. She thought back to her mom telling her about the sale of the Van Heusen and recalled the dash of hope in Jolie’s expression.

  Did they want out?

  “Think about it, Merina. What I’m offering is more than retirement, and at their age I’m sure they don’t want to find work,” Reese stated. “Running the Van Heusen is all they’ve known.”

  If she had said that, the sentence would have been infused with passion hinting at the fairy tale by which they came to own the Van Heusen. When Reese said it, he made the hotel sound like it was a lame, deaf, blind dog needing to be put down.

  No. She would not accept this. Not from Reese. Not from her parents. It was possible they’d forgotten how much the hotel meant to them. Not having money created desperate feelings. Her father wasn’t as spry as he once was given his heart condition. Maybe they needed her intrusion.

  Reese’s phone buzzed and Bobbie stated, “Ms. Van Heusen’s town car is here, sir.”

  “I don’t want it,” Merina bit out, still leaning over his desk.

  He angled his eyes up to her and they stayed locked in a heated staring contest until “Very well” came from the phone’s speaker, then clicked off again.

  Merina straightened. Outside, the rain started coming down in sheets. Didn’t it figure? An involuntary shiver racked her spine, and possibly her lips were turning blue from her wet hair, but she kept her knees locked and her arms folded securely over her peek-a-boo breasts.

  “I have an appointment I can’t miss, but I won’t leave you in suspense.” Reese stood, deftly unbuttoned his jacket, and shrugged out of it. Those shoulders. My God. He was a mountain of a man. Tall and broad and the absolute opposite of what anyone might expect a hotel owner-slash-billionaire to look like.

  “Suspense?” she repeated, her voice dipping low when he came out from behind the desk. Her eyes screwed up to meet his as he draped his suit jacket over her shoulders.

  “I’m not going to put you out on your fantastic ass, Merina.” His lips tipped—lush lips. His was a mouth made for sin. But then, Satan. So it made sense.

  She gripped the jacket when he let go. She should be throwing it at him, but it was warm and she was freezing. And it smelled of leather and money and power. Three things she wished didn’t make her feel safe. What was it about this man? She’d seen pictures of him before, and yes, noticed he was attractive, but in the flesh there was something about him that made her feel utterly feminine. Even at the worst possible times. Like when he was dangling her job over a lava-filled pit and daring her to grab for it.

  “I appreciate your reconsidering. I belong at the Van Heusen.” Until she figured out a way to get the hotel back, at least she could be there. She would come up with a way to delay the remodel.

  “No, you misunderstand me. I can’t keep you there,” he said, a frown marring his otherwise perfect brow. “But I can offer you almost any position you’d like at Crane Hotels. We have openings in Wisconsin, Virginia, and Ohio. I know it’s not Chicago, but chances are you can stay in the Midwest.”

  He slid past her while she stared at the sheeting rain, her fingers going numb around the lapels of his jacket. Not only was he firing her, but he expected her to work for him? Expected her to leave Chicago? This was her city, dammit! He didn’t reserve the right to boot her out.

  When she turned, Reese was pressing a button on the wall. His office doors whispered open.

  A balding, smiling man appeared in the doorway and gave Reese a wave of greeting. He noticed her next and offered a nod.

  Well. Merina didn’t care who he was; he was about to get an earful. She wouldn’t allow Reese Crane to dismiss her after dropping that bomb on her feet.

  She stomped over to the doorway between him and his guest.

  “You listen to me, you suited sewer rat.” Disregarding their current third party, she seethed up at Reese. “I’m going to find a way around your machinations and when I do, I’m going to march back in here with the contract my parents signed and shove it straight up your ass.”

  Reese’s eyebrows rose, his lips with them. Instead of apologizing to his guest, he grinned over at the balding man, who to his testament was appropriately shocked, and said, “You’ll have to forgive Ms. Van Heusen. She doesn’t like when she doesn’t get her way.”

  The balding man laughed, though it sounded a tad uneasy.

  Reese tilted his head at Merina. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Your head on a pike.” With that parting blow, she left, holding fast to the suit jacket. She wore it on the ride down the elevator, through the bland lobby, and out onto Superior Street, where she wadded it up and threw it into a mud puddle gathering near the curb.

  She walked back to the Van Heusen in the rain, telling herself she’d won this round. But Merina didn’t feel victorious.

  She felt lost.

  Chapter 2

  Reese Crane had nine problems—the other members of the board of directors, now disassembling, murmuring to each other about dinner and drinks downtown. Left in the conference room were his youngest brother, Tag, and their father, Alex.

  “That meeting went as well as expected,” Reese growled. “Bunch of stodgy old placeholders.”

  “At least you held it in that long,” his father said.

  Reese had nearly bitten his tongue to remain silent during the meeting. Now he felt his lip curl as he watched the horde of suits waddle away. He had one seat on the board. His father another. But they were in the minority. Thanks to his great-grandfather, who started Crane Hotels and lost the controlling percentage to the public.

  The board had made it clear last month they would not appoint Reese in the position of CEO of Crane Hotels when Alex retired. Apparently, no one had changed their collective minds. They’d always liked Alex but had never warmed to his sons.

  “Disloyal pack of jackals,” Reese said. They saw him as a spoon-fed brat who’d inherited his way to the top floor of Crane Hotels, which was an oversimplified truth. Yes, he was sitting at the position of chief operations officer because his father had founded Crane Hotels, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t work. As COO, Reese was in charge of the daily operations of the company, which was no small task.

  “You have a flippant, playboy reputation,” Alex stated, not for the first time. “They’re being careful.”

  “I work damn near eighty hours a week,” Reese all but bellowed. “I bleed over fiscal reports.”

  “You have to play nice, bro,” Tag advised, wearing an easy smile. His facial hair was so heavy, he may as well have been sporting a beard. Reese’s youngest brother ran Guest and Restaurant Services for Crane Hotels. He did a lot of travel for hotel opening
s and bar and restaurant events. Typically, you couldn’t get him into a suit. Today, he’d eschewed his usual corporate Indiana Jones look for gray slacks and a white button-down.

  All hail the board.

  “They don’t like you much either,” Alex said, tipping his head at his other son.

  At that, Tag sat straight in his chair and plucked the pencil out of his low-hanging ponytail-bun hybrid. Tag bucked the system every chance he had, so it wasn’t any wonder the board hadn’t appreciated his bravado. He worked hard, but his style was more beach bum than corporate and every one of those old crones knew it.

  The mess over who would hold the position of CEO was only between Reese and the board. Tag didn’t want it. Alex was retiring. Their other brother, Eli, was still stationed in the desert and wasn’t interested.

  “I have an idea,” Reese announced. Something that had been knocking around in his head since a soaking wet Merina Van Heusen had marched into his office and plunked a doorknob onto his desk.

  At the mention of an idea, Alex waited. Tag’s brow creased.

  Tag should know better. Of course Reese would come up with a plan before he gave up on being named CEO. It may be an impromptu, mostly old-fashioned plan, but it was a plan.

  “Merina Van Heusen came by my office this morning to speak with me about my plans to remodel the Van Heusen.”

  Alex’s brow went up.

  “She left incensed,” Reese continued. “Stormed out of my office fifteen minutes later but not before insulting me in front of Phil Lightman.”

  “You’re remodeling the Van Heusen? That place is a landmark,” Tag said.

  “All aboard the ball-busting train.” Reese gave Tag a dry look.

  His brother grinned in response. “Well, it is.”

  “Shit,” Alex said with a raspy chuckle. His father was in a sleek gray suit and whimsical checkered tie and wore a full white mustache/goatee combo that complemented his thick white hair. He was former military, brawny, had brains and power, and enough balls to say what he meant.

  “Shit is right.” Tag winced. “I’ve met Merina Van Heusen. She loves that hotel. I bet she freaked.”