Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(32)

“Just an old friend,” he said, flashing her a white smile. “And somehow I’m thinking Logan’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

That depended on what exactly was going on. She studied Logan’s clenched jaw, his slacks. The shirt he’d casually pulled on, hiding his tattoo. The luxury helicopter they were currently sitting in that wasn’t Red Cross or Coast Guard. The laughing man who looked as if he were enjoying her confusion way too much.

It wasn’t adding up.

She gave Logan a curious look. “You’re not the manager of this place, are you?”

“I’m not.” His words were clipped and displeased.

“Then who are you?”

He said nothing.

Over his shoulder, Jonathan grinned. “He’s the owner, baby.”

He what? Bront? stared at Logan, betrayed. It didn’t make sense. And yet . . . it all made sense. The expensive necklace he’d offered her. His lack of knowledge of how the hotel worked. All of it. Logan wasn’t a manager. He was some rich a**hole who’d decided to have a good laugh at her while lying about who he was.

And to think that she’d slept with him!

The entire thing was a lie. Just like her mother, she’d stupidly fallen for a man’s smooth words and let her heart get carried away. Just like her father, he’d turned around and betrayed her.

Chapter Six

Bront? didn’t speak during the entire helicopter ride back to the mainland. Instead, she seethed quietly.

She felt like an idiot. A huge one. How could he not tell her the truth? Did she matter so very little to him that he’d hide his identity from her? Was his name even Logan Hawkings? She couldn’t trust a single word that had come out of his mouth over the past few days.

And she’d slept with him! Oh, God. She wanted to hide her face in her hands, but that would give away too much of what she was feeling at the moment. Instead, she pasted on her best friendly-waitress smile and tried not to think about how she’d cuddled with the man the night before, or had gone down on him under a table that morning because she was goofy for him.

She’d thought she’d been so lucky to be stranded with someone like Logan. Handsome, take-charge, intelligent, sexy, and strong. Well, she could add a few more adjectives to that list. Words like “liar” and “jerk” and “untrustworthy.”

How he must have laughed at her, Bront? thought bitterly. Every time she’d mentioned how he ran the hotel, he’d been silently laughing at her. A waitress. Had he let her assume he was the manager so she wouldn’t be so intimidated by his job, thus ensuring that she’d sleep with him? Ugh.

Well, she’d wanted this to be a weekend fling, hadn’t she? Mission accomplished. If she never saw the man again, it would suit her just fine.

They landed some time later on an unfamiliar roof, and everyone began to unbuckle their seatbelts as the helicopter blades slowed to a stop. Bront? removed her headset when the others did, and she couldn’t help but ask as Logan hopped out of the helicopter, “Where are we?”

He didn’t answer her but simply extended a hand to help her out of the helicopter. She took it and waited for him to reply as she stepped down. When he didn’t, she turned to Jonathan and repeated the question.

He grinned over at her. “One of my summer homes in Miami. You can stay here until we get things sorted out.”

One of his summer homes? One of? She glanced around at the massive roof she stood on. It was probably bigger than her apartment building. Exactly how much money did Logan and his buddy have? She narrowed her eyes at their backs, following them down the stairs and into the house.

Inside, her suspicions were confirmed. The house was an enormous mansion. White walls that had never seen a speck of dirt were artfully decorated with expensive light fixtures and framed art. Her dirty sandals flapped on marble tiles, and she had to fight to keep her mouth from going slack at the sight of the expensive carpets and furniture. It looked like a showroom of some kind. Except this was someone’s house, which was bizarre.

Jonathan led them down a long hall and then gestured at one of the doors. “You can stay here, Bront?. I only have a few guest rooms in this house, so if you don’t like it, we can switch your room.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she told him with her polite waitress smile. She didn’t plan on staying here any longer than she had to. Of course, he didn’t have to know that.

“She stays with me,” Logan said in a firm voice.

Her eyes narrowed at his confident tone. “I want my own room.”

He glanced down at her and gave her a small shake of his head. “You’re staying with me.”

“Is that so?”

Jonathan gave her an appraising look. “In that case, I guess you can stay with Logan.” He nodded at his friend. “It’s your usual room.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment.

So it was decided? Just like that? She gritted her teeth. “Care to show me which room that is? I think I’d like a shower.”

Jonathan grinned, as if remarking her barely contained fury. “I’ll let lover boy here do the honors. I need to make a few calls. Feel free to head downstairs when you’re up to it.” He put his hands in his pockets and whistled, heading down the long marble staircase at the end of the hall with a jaunty confidence that bespoke years of familiarity with the place.