Dirty Pleasures (The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy #2)(33)

I pin them both with a glare that would have smarter men shaking in their fancy, spit-shined cowboy boots. “You’re dead f*cking wrong about my motivations, and if I gave a shit what you thought, I’d correct you. But since I don’t, I think it’s time you hand over those resignations and get on your way.”

I shove the final documents aside, not concerned in the slightest about his prediction. Holly will understand that this has nothing to do with ownership or control, and everything to do with setting her free from these pricks who’ve been running her life. And if she doesn’t get that, then I’ll help her understand.

The men stand, Morty glaring daggers at me and Jim looking amused, but I don’t give a f*ck. I don’t waste another thought on them as they exit the room. I just want to go home, kick back on the couch with my wife in my lap and a beer in my hand, but that can’t happen anytime soon, thanks to the charity event I’ve committed us to.

Once the room clears of lawyers and the former record execs, Cannon and I are left alone. He wastes no time.

“Well, Crey, I think you got a hell of a deal, but I don’t think you know what you’re doing either. We have to learn this industry from the bottom up, and we only scratched the surface during diligence.”

He’s been on hand to sign several of the documents in his capacity as vice president of the new entity I formed for the sole purpose of this acquisition. One not under the umbrella of Karas International, like all of my other companies. One that I own one hundred percent of personally, because never before has an acquisition been this personal to me.

“Is that supposed to be news to me?”

“I’m just saying—”

“Everything you’ve already said before. And it’s getting old.” I rise out of the leather conference room chair and tuck my pen into the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “I have a beautiful woman waiting for me, and if I get home in time, she might still be strolling around the house in her lingerie.”

Cannon smirks at me. “Now there’s a thought.”

“Get it out of your f*cking brain.”

He holds both hands up in a pacifying gesture. “Jeez. I’m just f*cking with you, Crey. No different from what we’ve always done.”

I stiffen when I realize that even my best friend doesn’t get it. “She’s different. Everything about this is different.”

“Come on. You didn’t even know the woman when you posted that ludicrous ad. It’s only been a couple of weeks. There’s no way in hell you can know that it’s different.”

There have been several times in the past when Cannon and I haven’t seen eye to eye. If we can’t settle things with a logical discussion, we usually opt for beating the shit out of each other in a boxing ring. I open my mouth to argue, but snap it shut just as quickly.

I don’t need to justify this to him; I don’t even need his f*cking support. I know what I’ve got with Holly, and that’s not changing, even if his opinion doesn’t.

I turn and leave the room with his confused “What the f*ck, man?” following me out.





Holly is already wearing her dress for the charity event when I enter the bedroom. She’s absolutely breathtaking, and I can’t get over what a lucky son of a bitch I am.

If sex could be painted on a body, that’s what this dress would be. Red satin, hugging her every curve from her shoulders to just below her knees before it flares into a little mermaid-looking thing. I have no earthly idea how the f*ck she’s going to walk in it, but I don’t care. I’ll f*cking carry her.

She’s surveying herself in the mirror when her eyes dart to mine in the reflection.

“What do you think? Should I wear the black one?” She motions to the long black dress hanging from the valet rod in the closet.

“Don’t you dare take that dress off.”

Her eyes snap back to mine. “Wha—”

I close in behind her, reaching into my pocket to pull out the gift I purchased at Harry Winston earlier in the day. I bring my arms around her, letting the diamond collar rest against her neck.

Her chest rises and falls as she looks in the mirror. “Holy. Shit. Please tell me those are CZs.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, babe.”

Her eyes widen so much that I’m a little worried she’s going to hurt herself. She lifts a hand to her neck after I engage the clasp, but her fingers stop short of touching the diamonds.

“It’s not going to bite.”

She spins around to face me. “Please tell me it’s rented only for tonight, and you’re taking it back tomorrow.”

“Afraid I can’t do that either.”

“You have to take it back.”

Now the conversation is growing tedious. “It’s not going anywhere but around your neck.”

“Why in God’s name would you spend that kind of money on me?”

“Because I can.”

“Are you trying to make me feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?”

I look at her, confusion flooding me. “What are you talking about?”

“The movie. Pretty Woman. She’s a hooker and he’s a millionaire. There’s this scene with a necklace. It’s pretty freaking famous, Crey.”