Billionaire's Dilemma - The Complete Series: Bad Boy Gone Good, #2

By Roxie Odell

I wanted her… bad. Did it matter she was my dad’s secretary?

Special Limited Edition Deal: For the first time ever, get the complete Billionaire’s Dilemma Series in one convenient, ereader-melting bundle, all in one book. Bad Boys Gone Good Series altogether!

A Steamy Billionaire Romance Series 

The world’s wealthiest people don’t get rich by accident. Whether by smart investment, sharp business intuition, or a combination of talent, grit and circumstance, billionaires have done something right. Or they had a whole lot of luck—a crap-load of it.

Tag is the son of a billionaire, who’s never had to work a day in his life. He has everything he’s ever wanted, that is, until one night during a party at his lake house when a chance encounter with a stunning beauty makes him realize that he wants more. There’s something about Melanie that he can’t get out of his mind, or his heart.

When his controlling and manipulative father suffers a heart attack, Tag is suddenly thrown into the formerly distant world of his father’s business. Much to Tag’s surprise, the CEO chair fits him like a glove, and it’s even sweeter once he realizes his father’s assistant is none other than the mystery woman he spent the night with. Melanie doesn’t want anyone to know about them, and that’s the only way she’ll continue to see him.

Will Tag be able to keep their love affair a secret? 

How will he handle things when it comes time for his father to return? Will he give up his father’s throne?


AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is a complete story in a full-length bundle, with a happy ever after ending. 
Recommended for 18+ readers, New Adult Readers and up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Shadow Publishing
• Release date: Apr 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386628712

Roxie Odell

Steamy Romance author Roxie Odell brings you heat, steam and romance in her stories. Be ready to sweat! Find her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RoxieOdell/?ref=hl Follow her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/b9G7JX Twitter @roxieodellauthor

Book preview

Billionaire's Dilemma - The Complete Series

Bad Boy Gone Good, Volume 2

Roxie Odell

Published by Dark Shadow Publishing, 2018.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

BILLIONAIRE'S DILEMMA - THE COMPLETE SERIES

First edition. April 9, 2018.

Copyright © 2018 Roxie Odell.

ISBN: 978-1386628712

Written by Roxie Odell.

Also by Roxie Odell

Alpha Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Triology

Alpha Purpose

Bad Boy Gone Good

Billionaire's Dilemma – Part 1

Billionaire's Dilemma - The Complete Series

Billionaire in Paris

Her Tycoon Lover - Part 1

Her Tycoon Lover - Billionaire in Paris Complete Collection

Gambler Series

What Happens in Vegas...

Gambler Series Complete Box Set

Player's Club Series

Billionaire's Baby

Billionaire's Baby - Player's Club Complete Box Set

Sinner-Saint Series

Strength

Sinner Saint Box Set

The Billionaire’s Dilemma

Bad Boy Gone Good Series BOX SET

By

Roxie Odell

Copyright 2016 by Roxie Odell

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2016 by Roxie Odell

Contents

Find Roxie Odell:

The Billionaire’s Dilemma #1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter15

Chapter 16

The Billionaire’s Dilemma #2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

The Billionaire’s Dilemma #3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Bad Boy Gone Good Series

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The Billionaire’s Dilemma

Part #1

Bad Boy Gone Good Series

By

Roxie Odell

Copyright 2016 by Roxie Odell

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2016 by Roxie Odell

Billionaire’s Dilemma – Part 1:

The world’s wealthiest people didn’t get rich by accident. Whether by smart investment, sharp business intuition, or a combination of talent, grit and circumstance, billionaires have done something right. Or they had a whole lot of luck—a crap-load of it.

Tag is the son of a billionaire, who’s never had to work a day in his life. He has everything he’s ever wanted, that is, until one night during a party at his lake house when a chance encounter with a stunning beauty makes him realize that he wants more. There’s something about Melanie that he can’t get out of his mind, or his heart.

When his controlling and manipulative father suffers a heart attack, Tag is suddenly thrown into the formerly distant world of his father’s business. Much to Tag’s surprise, the CEO chair fits him like a glove, and it’s even sweeter once he realizes his father’s assistant is none other than the mystery woman he spent the night with. Melanie doesn’t want anyone to know about them, and that’s the only way she’ll continue to see him.

Will Tag be able to keep their love affair a secret?

How will he handle things when it comes time for his father to return? Will he give up his father’s throne?

Chapter 1

Iran my hands along the green felt of the pool table, taking my sweet time getting the cue stick in position. I could sense Michael getting pissed off behind me, tapping his foot impatiently, no doubt waiting for the first strike of the game to determine which side he’d throw his money towards. He did this with everything we did: shots, beer pong, golf. You name it, and Michael has probably tried to bet on it. He’s also probably won a large sum of money on it too. Suckering people out of their hard-earned cash was one of his favorite hobbies and his main source of income. I gave him the smile he always told me was condescending, which it was meant to be, partially, but mostly I just hoped I could break his lifelong winning streak. I was even willing to throw a game of pool to do it.

I shot the white ball straight down the middle, creating a whirlwind of colors, purples, blues and yellows, spinning and knocking into each other at lightning speeds. A striped ball was the first to fall into a hole, and many of its kind followed, tumbling down and piling up in the netting underneath. It took an agonizingly slow time for it all to stop spinning, and our buddy David waited patiently, cue ready at his side, for his chance at impressing Michael.

Good shot, David said, lining up at the end of the table.

I could tell he meant it, which was refreshing considering our present company: David, a hopeless gambler, Jeremy, an alcoholic, and my ex, Katrina who I couldn’t seem to ditch. Okay, so maybe that’s a bit harsh. Jeremy was a recovering alcoholic, after all.

David hit the white ball with too much force, and we all watched as it danced around the table, bouncing off corners and knocking balls, but never managing to push anything into a hole.

Michael sat on the bar countertop, a bad habit I had considered using a spray bottle to break. He downed a glass of something brown and bubbling then placed a couple of Ben Franklins on my side of the table. We exchanged a look, and something in his eyes hinted at our roles as co-conspirators, as if we were both in on this joke against David, as if this wasn’t an attack on his flawless gambling repertoire.

I went next and used my cue stick to drive the white ball straight into the hole. When I turned to him again, Michael wasn’t smiling anymore.

David looked between us, trying to decide if this was a fight he needed to prevent or a harmless game he could watch play out.

You know, Jeremy said, patting David on the back. I think this time, I’m going to bet on you. Free drinks for a week if you can beat Tag.

Tag’s throwing the game on purpose, Michael complained.

What an accusation! I laughed, shaking my head. Why would I do anything to ever betray the trust of my dearest friend?

Michael gave me a solid view of his middle finger before returning to his perch on the bar countertop.

Katrina laughed and collapsed into the barstool below him, clutching a bottle of Bud Light as if it could somehow balance her. She always did have a low tolerance for alcohol, but it came in swings; first she would be tipsy, then completely sober, then back to knocking into furniture a second later. I didn’t understand her one bit.

Even though I tried my best to throw the rest of the game, it was still a frustratingly slow process to let David win. He was farsighted, so he held the cue stick with a fist, and he never seemed to get how to prevent the white ball from landing in the hole on just about every turn.

After a couple rounds of scotch and a whole lot of inner patience, all that remained were three striped balls and two solid balls. All I needed was for him to sink those last two, and Michael would be out 500 dollars and a great deal of pride.

With all his clumsiness and partial blindness, David somehow managed to coerce one into the hole, and I felt a smile stretch my lips to an almost painful degree, thinking about this small victory in the war against gambling addiction. Or maybe, I just really wanted to stick it to Michael. Yeah, that was probably it.

I hit the white ball with no effort or direction, and I immediately set down my cue stick to grab a drink, knowing it was over. The frosty cold of the glass had just barely touched my lips when I heard Michael scream, and Katrina—no, Jeremy, wail. I turned around just in time to see the white ball crash into the eight ball and send it spiraling into the depths of the pool table’s holes. I looked around for the other striped balls, for any sense of security, any sign that I could still salvage this act of petty revenge, but there were none in sight. The only balls that remained were completely solid in color.

Michael got into Jeremy’s face, hollering and being his usual boisterous self. I kind of felt bad for the guy. I mean, I was upset at the results, but at least I didn’t have anything of value on the line. A week of drinks for Michael practically meant a lifetime supply.

Sorry, Tag, Katrina said, placing a hand on my shoulder more for her balance than my comfort. I know you really wanted to take Michael down a peg, but he, well, he’s probably psychic. There’s no way you can beat a probably psychic gambler.

I don’t know about you, David said, saddling up to my side and joining the conversation, watching as Michael and Jeremy hurled threats back and forth. But I think this might have actually been a good thing. If he’s got to finance Michael’s tab, he’ll have nothing left for his own. He might actually get his first chip for AAA.

I laughed at that, although he meant it more in a hopeful way than a sarcastic way.

David left our side to placate Jeremy, which would be no easy task considering how much of a sore loser he was and how much of a sore winner Michael was.

Katrina and I watched on in silence because there was nothing more we had to say to each other while our mutual friends were occupied with their own devices. It always seemed to be like this with her ever since we broke up. She hung around, maybe for the company, maybe for the free drinks, I didn’t know, but it felt like she wasn’t entirely there, not the way she’d been when we had been together. I hated to think I had anything to do with that, with her losing her spark, but there wasn’t much I could do to make up for it. Getting back together would be disastrous for both of us. So for now, I just hoped I could help her just by being her friend, even if it meant withstanding awkward silences like these. Really, I was a trooper.

I studied looked her as she watched the scene in front of us unfold, saw the dark circles under her eyes and the sad smile that shaped her lips as she watched David play peacemaker.

Her green eyes darted towards me, without even moving her head, and glanced back in front of her. Is it just me, she said slowly, her face still angled away from me. Or does David look happier than normal?

I don’t know. He’s always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. I’d say he’s just being himself, I replied, scratching the back of my neck.

She shook her head, stumbling a little bit in her heels but regaining balance relatively well. There’s something else, I think. Normally, he wouldn’t even try to play pool against you. Something’s put him in –in a better mood.

If you say so, I murmured.

She set her beer bottle down on the counter and began to unlatch the straps of her ungodly high stilettos. Hey, boys, she called, You think we can continue this lovely little gathering in the hot tub? It’s getting too chilly in here.

We all exchanged looks and shrugs. Michael didn’t waste any time stripping down to his bare chest. I took off my shirt, too.

David kept his on, watching all of us uneasily. I don’t know. I really should get back home. Eliza gets worried when I come home late.

Whipped! Jeremy hollered from the right wing bathroom.

David laughed. Yeah, I guess I am.

I can’t imagine why she would be worried, Katrina said innocently.

Yeah, what’s her problem? Michael asked, turning on the jets to the hot tub, You’re in good hands here.

Of course, David replied, sounding very unconvinced. She just wants to know I’m safe is all. That’s what happens when you marry someone you care about, whether or not they’re lying in a ditch somewhere.

Excuse you, I interjected, This ditch you’re lying in is paradise. I suggest you enjoy it a little bit longer before you have to go home to the Mrs.’s.

David sighed before conceding, Fine. But only to keep an eye on you guys. If I catch Jeremy with anything stronger than a Sprite, I’m going to haul him to rehab myself.

That won’t be necessary, Jeremy said, emerging from the bathroom in his swimsuit.

I hope for all of our sakes, you’re right. Michael scoffed, sinking down into the frothing whirlwind of the hot tub.

I joined him, Katrina and Jeremy not too far behind me, followed suit.

I’m going to change, David announced to the deck at large. And there better not be any suspicious activity while I’m gone. He pointed an accusatory finger at Jeremy, who put his hands up in mock innocence.

Suspicious activity, Katrina repeated once he had left, the corner of her lips tugging upwards in a conspiratorial smile. He’s one to talk.

What do you mean? Jeremy asked, David’s the least suspicious out of all of us.

And the least active, Michael added.

Oh, you boys, she lamented. So oblivious; what would you do without my emotional intuition and attention to detail?

Um, probably drink less, Michael retorted.

She smacked him in the arm. It didn’t look like it hurt any, but that didn’t stop Michael from yelping. Oh, shut up, you baby. I barely even hit you. Anyways. David never plays pool, especially when he knows Michael’s gambling on it, and the dude’s all about personal space, yet he agreed to join us in the hot tub. Any of you remember the last time he did that?

All we gave her as an answer were blank stares and half-hearted shrugs.

Okay. She sighed. I know, I have to spell it out for you. The last time he was this lenient with his self-proclaimed morals was after he proposed to Eliza. She waited for a reaction after dropping that bomb on us, but she was met with much of the same disinterest as before. Well? she demanded.

What? So David’s in a good mood. Jeremy shrugged, It happens.

No, she shook her head, David’s in a good mood when he doesn’t cut us all off after two shots. David’s practically walking on cloud nine if he’s not even saying anything about how many beers we’ve put away in the last half hour alone. All of us are a breathalyzer test away from a suspended license.

Except me. Jeremy piped up.

Except Jeremy. Katrina amended.

Maybe we finally wore him down, Michael suggested.

But— Katrina started.

Besides, I said, cutting her off. If something major did happen to David, he would’ve told us by now.

Katrina rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated with all of us. Um, yeah. He’s kind of the worst at keeping secrets, if you haven’t noticed, and I—

Who’s the worst at keeping secrets? David asked, appearing suddenly behind us and then settling into the hot tub beside Katrina. We were all quiet for too long, and he shot everyone a look. I said no suspicious activity. He reminded us.

And we weren’t participating in any. Katrina was quick to find her voice again. Michael was just telling us about this guy he beat in a game of Texas holdem.

Okay. That’s civil enough." David shrugged.

Nothing’s civil when it comes to Michael, Jeremy muttered, still thinking about the hit his bank account might take from treating Michael’s bottomless stomach for a full week.

Michael must have recognized that sentiment in him because he clamped his hand on his shoulder and said, Don’t worry. I’m not going to drive you to bankruptcy. Probably.

Reassuring. Jeremy deadpanned.

I dipped further down into the hot tub, letting the foaming water rise above my mouth and nose, closing my eyes as I felt the warmth envelope me. Sometimes, I needed a breather from my friends, as great as they were to have around normally, and the water just felt so good. When I came back up for air, Katrina was talking about some incident that happened at her work.

Katrina caught my eye and asked, Taren Alexander George the Second, are you zoning out on me?

Yeah, he is because your stories suck, Michael said. Jeremy’s wallet can’t handle the amount of liquor I need to get through them.

Fine, then, she said smugly, eying Michael like a lioness with eye on her prey. I’ve got a better story. It’s about a guy named Michael who wet the bed in high school. We were on a school field trip and—

He splashed her right in the face, and after taking a moment to get her bearings, she began splashing back at him, making tidal waves in a hot tub that was never meant to contain a water fight between two grown ass adults.

Oh, come on, Jeremy interjected. I’ll admit that was a low blow, but please don’t get chlorine in my eyes for Katrina’s sake. She’s not worth the permanent damage to my eyes. Revenge is never the answer.

I’m with Jeremy on this one, I agreed. My dad’ll be pissed if all this water ends up warping the wood of the deck.

Ah, spoken like a true millionaire freeloader. Katrina laughed, splashing some water my way.

I wiped my face off with dignity, never rising to the bait.

Yeah, how’s the job hunt going for you? Michael asked sardonically.

I could work, I conceded. I just don’t really see the appeal is all. Now will you stop attacking us?

Please? David added.

I could stop splashing, Michael mocked. I just don’t really see the appeal is all.

And then the unexpected happened. David raised a hand to the top of the water, raced it through the clear blue, and watched as waves splintered off from his fingers, flying off in different directions splashing up into our faces, causing everyone to close their eyes.

A dead quiet ensued.

No one moved, no one said anything, we all just sat there, staring at David in awe. No one thought he was capable of rough housing. David had made his way into our inner circle of friends, but we weren’t in his—not by a long shot. He had other friends: middle-class working friends, married friends, friends with children, building families that he normally chose to hang out with over us. When he did take us up on our invitations, he was always the voice of reason, never stooping to our lows or condoning half of what we thought made a good time a good time. Here he was, 190 pounds of caution and sensibility, exacerbating a fight that probably would have burned itself out in a minute or two tops.

Then Katrina started laughing, a bubbly, infectious noise that caused Jeremy to start laughing and Michael to let out a small chuckle. Then I couldn’t help it. The ridiculous situation, the fact we had even managed to befriend David when the slightest hint of him acting out made all our hearts stop. The rest of us eventually joined her, howling with laughter at the fact we’d finally broken David in.

It was quite the momentous occasion.

Chapter 2

While most of our parties started out as a small group of friends, they very rarely stayed that way. The closer we got to midnight, the more people started showing up to my father’s lake house, and the more people who showed up, the fewer faces I actually recognized. The number of late twenty year olds started out fairly manageable. Jeremy invited some of his friends he had met through AAA. Katrina would talk some of her and her younger brother’s friends into coming. Then Michael had a habit of softening the crippling financial blows of gambling against him with an invite to one of my parties, so there was always a new sucker every week showing up on my doorstep. As the night went on, my ties to the guests watered down further; they were friends of friends who decided to bring a plus one. A couple of employees from Katrina’s bar who decided to bring all their extended family. I would invite some people from my dad’s work I thought could use a day off more than anyone, considering his notoriety for working employees to death.

Sometimes I wished our parties could stay within a range of people I actually knew the names of, if not for intimacy sake, then maybe just so I could figure out who keeps stealing toilet paper from the upstairs bathroom. Then again, there’s also something thrilling in our tradition of exceeding the lake house’s max occupancy. When we have new people every night, it keeps things interesting. Every night is guaranteed to be different from the last.

I stood in the doorway of the main hall, looking out across an ocean of strangers, dancing and pulsing to the beat of some electro swing Katrina had put on. As many faults as she had, I had to admit her taste in music definitely wasn’t one of them. The beat was a thick staccato, the bass deep and loud enough to send vibrations throughout the whole house. My eyes traced the curvy stairwell; it’s metallic spirals supported a dozen tipsy party guests as they tried to find their way up or down. From there I was led to the balcony which hosted another crowd of dancers. Among them, one girl stood out. Her hands circled the railing as she stood, slightly bent over, watching the mass of bodies below her turn and slide. Their bodies keeping sloppy time and hardly staying on beat, which could have been because of their natural lack of rhythm or because of their blood alcohol content.

Either way, she looked like she was enjoying herself, smiling and swaying a bit to the beat. Her dark curls bounced as she moved, catching the light in ways I only thought were possible under studio lights with filmmakers planning every move and a director overseeing its flawless execution. She seemed at home there in her spot on the balcony, but at the same time she was the only one not talking, or laughing, or dancing with someone. If she was lonely, she looked comfortable in her solitude, soaking up the lights and the energy, content just to gently sway along with the music.

Hey, Jeremy said, making me jump and bringing me out of my thoughts. You see any girls worth banging?

I gave a noncommittal grunt.

He laughed, the virgin cocktail in his hand sloshing over and spilling a little on the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t care. Yeah? Well if you do find one, make sure she’s not engaged this time, huh? He winked and disappeared into the sea of people.

I felt my stomach drop. That cocktail might not have been as virgin as I thought if Jeremy was willing to joke about that. David would know what to do about Jeremy, but unfortunately, trying to find someone at one of my parties was a lot like trying to find a needle inside a haystack, if that needle had been painted gold and the haystack was the size of a small country.

I pressed on nonetheless, pushing against the current of dancers and drinkers, trying to find the one guy in this crowd not groping a girl or drinking his weight in beer. At a nauseatingly slow pace, I made my way around the floor, up the stairs, and into the less-crowded corridors to my guest rooms. He would more than likely be some place away from the crowds. So I started knocking on doors, disturbing couples trying to get some alone time, and pissing off most of the people smoking outside. I ended up bumping into something hard on my way back to the balcony, something that hit my head with so much force, I saw stars. I blinked a couple times, and when I finally had my bearings, I saw it wasn’t a something I had run into, but a someone—a particular someone.

Her silky red hair fanned around her like an angel’s halo as she laid, groaning, sprawled out on the floor. I offered her a hand, which she took gingerly, while she fought to stand upright.

Sorry, I said when she was back on her own two feet. I didn’t see you there.

She didn’t even look at me. She seemed too preoccupied checking herself for bruises and had little attention left for the idiot who’d bumped into her.

I felt an unfamiliar pang of shame at being ignored like this, of being the one to knock a girl down instead of sweeping her off her feet.

Do you know who owns this place? I think I might need a Band-Aid for this, she finally spoke, gesturing to her ankle, where the point of her other heel had stabbed her.

Of course, yeah, here, I said, all in a jumble. There’s a first aid kit in the west wing bathroom. I can take you there.

My hero. She deadpanned but followed me down the hallway all the same, limping the whole way down.

Here... I opened the door and let her in. Sit on the counter, I ordered, getting the first aid kit from the top cabinet and opening it up beside the sink.

Actually, I think I can take it from here, She replied, unstrapping her heels.

Oh. I smiled, holding the bottle of antiseptic as if it was a finely aged wine. But what kind of a host would I be if I didn’t see to it that you’re all right?

You’re the owner? She rolled her eyes. What am I saying, of course you’re not the owner.

What’s that supposed to mean? I asked.

Oh, come on... She let out a theatrical sigh. You don’t look like you’ve ever worked a day in your life. I’m guessing your dad’s the one footing the bill for all these crazy parties.

I got out a cotton ball and dabbed it with the antiseptic. What makes you say that? I asked.

It’s the way you carry yourself, she said solemnly, her eyes roaming my body as if I was a bug under a microscope.

I paused feeling jarred by how much I enjoyed that feeling, coming from her.

You play the gentlemen so well, because you have no other role. People who work wear their profession no matter if they’re in uniform or not, and the only one you have on is the gracious host. I thought maybe you could be some sort of diplomat, but you would’ve made your entrance a big deal, you would’ve been out their mingling and trying to widen your contacts, but this isn’t the sort of party where you get to know people, is it? It’s the kind of party where you forget yourself, where you get lost in a crowd, and I can think of few professions interested in that.

That’s a lot to read into from just people watching. I pressed the cotton ball to her ankle.

She gave was a small hiss at the pain. Only the newest lines and the finest brands. She put her arms around my neck and whispered, I can tell because the tag is still on your shirt, and it doesn’t have a laundry smell to it. So you’re not working. It’s obviously your father’s money you’re using; no mother would let her son live a life this extravagantly meaningless. I can also sense... hmm, she hummed, bringing me closer and closer to her face, our noses touching, our eyes closed. Resentment towards your father.

How do you figure that? I asked, getting a little nervous at this point but no less aroused. I could feel her smile against my lips, the exhale of her breath. I never wanted to kiss someone this badly before and I never had to restrain myself from doing so before.

Because you have that same set to your jaw, that same look in your eyes as I do, she whispered then pulled away from me and taking a Band-Aid from the first aid kit.

Alright, Sherlock. I laughed. Let me guess... you’re a detective?

Nope. She smiled, peeling off the translucent wrappers of the Band-Aid.

A private investigator? I guessed.

Wrong again. She placed the Band-Aid on her ankle, careful to seal it on both sides.

Well, I know you like people watching. And you have a great attention to detail, I deduced. But you also like to play hard to get.

That’s business for you. She threw away the wrappers in the sink-side trashcan.

This was business? I asked. She didn’t seem the type of woman who would stoop so low as to seduce a man for money.

No, I mean I work in business, she clarified, either not catching my implication or ignoring it. I could never be a detective; too much blood, too many murders. I prefer to keep all the blood sucking in my life metaphoric.

I don’t know. The business world can be a pretty ruthless place.

How would you know? The most you’ve probably seen of it has been from ‘bring your kid to work’ day. She smiled.

You of all people should see the value in an outsider’s perspective. I leaned a bit closer to her. We see things people on the inside tend to ignore.

Hmm, she hummed, looking at me with her dark, startling eyes.

In that moment, I wished I could see the inside of her head and how it worked.

It seems I might have misjudged you.

How so? I asked.

She leaned in a bit more, so our faces were touching again. You may be an arrogant son of a millionaire, she breathed the words out. But you might just be worth the trouble.

I couldn’t help myself. I crashed into her lips, a clumsy and short kiss.

She took her time pulling away. Melanie, she said.

All I could think about was the feel of her lips, the softness of her embrace. What? I asked dumbly.

Melanie, she repeated. That’s my name. You never asked, but I figured you were just a wee bit distracted.

Mine’s Tag, I blurted out.

Tag? She made a face. Please tell me that’s not your actual name.

I shook my head, smiling. Nickname, actually. It stands for my full name, Taren Alex—

I was cut off, blinded by the light that flooded into the bathroom and the sound of the door bursting open, the door knob slamming into the opposite wall. There stood Jeremy and David, relief, horror, and surprise all intermingled on their faces.

Shit! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! David exclaimed. We need your help.

Turns out Michael’s plus one is still pissed about the money he lost. You have to break up the fight, Jeremy said, all in a rush.

Okay, deep breaths, Jeremy, I soothed. Tell me, where is this happening?

Downstairs, out on the deck, he answered. Kick him out, or hose him down, or whatever you have to do, okay?

Alright. I turned back to Melanie. It was nice meeting you—I mean, it was incredible meeting you actually, but—

But your friends need your help, she finished for me, a small smile on her face.

I nodded, glad she understood and didn’t take this as a personal snub because she was the first girl in a long time I would rather not snub. I ran off with David and Jeremy, pushing drunks out of the way and bumping into couples. Most people, however, had the good sense to clear a path for us.

Out on the deck, Michael had a shattered beer bottle in his hand, which he was using to keep a drunk, angry man in a stained shirt and overalls from smashing his head in.

I wasn’t good in a fight, or at least, not to my knowledge. It’d been something I never had to experience being of a reputable name and attending private schools with military-grade security, self-defense was something I never needed to learn. As something was always on my side...the law. Hey, hey, that’s quite enough, I yelled, standing between the man and Michael. If you’re not out of here in the next five seconds, I’m calling the police.

The man seemed unfazed, the murderous glint in his eye never faltering. His beard seemed dirty and slightly singed, as if someone had tried to use it to put out a cigarette. He was missing a tooth, and his nose looked slightly curved as if someone had broken it a long time ago and it had healed the wrong way.

None of this made me want to take pity on him. If anything, I wanted him out of my house sooner, hopefully never to return. One, I counted, taking out my phone, Two. I began to dial 911. Three. My finger hovered over the call button, inching closer, dangerous close to having the county sheriff on the phone.

Fine! he shouted, something about the edge in my eyes assuring him that I would carry through with my threats. But if I ever see that ugly fucker in my casino again, not even your mother will be able to recognize your corpse. He spit on the floor, and then slowly, with pride, made his exit.

Michael glared at his retreating back with an anger I’d never seen on him before, but once the jerk slipped out of sight, he dropped the broken beer bottle and collapsed on the deck.

Whoa! David was by his side in an instant. You okay?

Fine, Michael answered faintly. That was just one of the scariest moments of my life.

Was that guy the casino owner? I asked, concerned for Michael’s already low life expectancy.

Nah... Michael waved me off. He was just feeling territorial, I guess.

Well, maybe you’ll take this as a lesson, I stated, crossing my arms.

Yeah, Jeremy agreed. Maybe stop inviting people with a motive to kill you.

Michael shrugged. I guess.

David helped him to his feet.

I began to scan the crowd of people in my backyard. None of them had the curves or the hair to be Melanie.