Dirty Pleasures (The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy #2)(28)

“You’ll be trying to figure her out for the rest of your goddamn life. Women are a mystery best left unsolved,” he adds.

Marcus erupts into laughter, and I’m still trying to decide if Holly’s going to be pissed. The unfamiliar feeling of anxiety creeps in when I recall how she left only a two-word note before she walked out of my New York penthouse.

“You’d better drive faster,” I say.




Holly climbs on the bus less than an hour after I return, but the initial feeling of relief I have at seeing her is wiped away when I take in the stooped set of her shoulders and pale face.

Flipping my laptop shut, I rise. “What’s wrong?”

She skirts around me and sinks into a chair.

“Just a long day,” she says, her tone defeated.

“Holly.” I only say her name, but it carries a wealth of meaning. I know she’s full of shit, and she knows I know she’s full of shit.

“How do you feel about having a meet-the-parents day?”

Her question catches me off guard, especially because her shot at meeting my parents died the day my mother and father were killed in an attack on the African village where they moved us for their missionary work. It was a story I worked incredibly hard to keep out of the media to this day.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

Her eyes flick up at me from beneath dark lashes, and she says, “My mother may be coming to visit.”

From what she’s said about her mother, this new development shocks the shit out of me.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but only because I couldn’t think fast enough to figure a way out of it.”

“Well, that’s honest.”

“It was the call from jail that threw me off my game.”

“Excuse me?” I repeat.

“If you weren’t sure before that you married white trash, you can rest assured that now you won’t have any doubt. My mama was arrested for breaking and entering into my gran’s house back home. Apparently the sheriff didn’t have my number, so when I called the police station, they filled me in.”

Holly’s voice is weary, and she won’t meet my eyes. “They wouldn’t have even arrested her, but my mama broke up the sheriff’s marriage before she left town by crowing about sleeping with him one night when she was drunk. His wife caught wind of it, and didn’t believe him when he swore he hadn’t. She left him, and he’s never forgiven my mama. He also knew, like everyone in town, that Gran left me everything, including the house. So she had no right to be there at all.”

“And that equates to her coming to visit, how?”

“I had to wire them money to bail her out of jail, and she has nowhere to go—that’s why she was breaking into Gran’s. When she asked to come here, I couldn’t find the word no fast enough in my brain. Don’t worry; she’ll last a day or two, hook up with some roadie—”

Holly sucks in a deep breath and continues in a shakier tone. “And then I won’t see her again until she runs out of the cash she’ll steal from me and anyone else who isn’t guarding their wallet. That’s what happened when she tracked me down at the very beginning of the tour.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

I cross the small living area of the bus, wrap her in my arms, and lift her into my lap as a few tears slip over her lids. I’m so shocked by the change from spitfire to hurt little girl that I have no idea how else to comfort her.

She leans against my shoulder for a beat before pulling back and climbing off my lap. She swipes at her eyes, smearing her mascara, and begins to pace.

“Damn it. I won’t cry over her. I’ve cried over her too many times. She doesn’t deserve any more of my tears. None.”

“I agree. No one deserves your tears.” Not even me, I add silently.

“And then there’s you,” she says.

“Me?” I ask.

Let’s pause for one second and acknowledge the fact that this is a stupid f*cking question for a guy to ask a woman at this particular juncture, but it’s out of my mouth before I can call it back.

“Seriously? You stood me up. Again. And my mama, the gold digger, is coming to visit, and I’ll have her yapping in my ear about how I’ll never hold on to you unless I do something magical, like bleach my * or vajazzle my cooch, and even then, I’m probably not woman enough to keep a man like you.”

Fuck. Holly’s mother really did a number on her, and that woman will not find herself welcome here to continue the job. There’s no way in hell I’ll let her near Holly. I don’t give a f*ck who she is.

“I didn’t expect it to take so long.”

She crosses her arms, and I’ve done enough negotiating to know that her body language says she’s closed off to any kind of reasonable interaction.

“What were you doing anyway?” she demands. When I open my mouth to respond, she holds up a hand, and I pause. “Never mind, you don’t need to tell me. It’s not like this is that kind of marriage anyway.”

The acid in her tone puts my back up. I know she’s pissed and emotional, but her taking swipes at what we’re starting to build here pisses me off.

“And exactly what kind of marriage is this, Holly?” The question is a loaded one.