Cheeky Romance (Billionaire Dads)

HADYN

I have plans to make now that I’ll have access to my savings, but I can’t seem to come to any conclusions. The beach house is the only place I can run to, but it’s four hours away. How am I going to keep watch on Vanya from that distance?

The object of my thoughts struts her top-model body right into my bedroom as if she owns it. Which she does.

But it’s a first for me.

The one guiding principle in our entire friendship was that Vanya never goes into my bedroom.

That’s gross, she used to say when we were kids.

When we got older it changed to ‘you’re gross.’

The hotel in Vegas was different. We were both drunk and it wasn’t technically a bedroom.

Today, it is.

And I like her presence in my bedroom more than I should.

“Hadyn,” she whispers.

I stare at her with wide eyes. The way she croaked my name is new. “What?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” She shakes her head and walks out.

Puzzled, I stare at her as she hesitates in the hallway, looking perplexed. She’s wearing a black leather skirt that wraps around her waist and shows off her curves. Her hair’s swept back and pasted down. Dangling earrings fall to her shoulders.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips. I hate that just one glimpse of her can set off my hormones like fireworks. It’s embarrassing. I instantly revert to a lusty teenaged boy around Vanya.

Hell, her walking into my bedroom would have been the teenaged-me’s dream come true.

As if coming to some kind of internal decision, Vanya marches back in.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, rising to my full height. I’m not going to let her leave until she spits it out.

Vanya plays with the collar of her white button-down and distracts me by biting into her bottom lip.

“We need to talk about yesterday.” Her heels click on the floor as she paces. “When she was here, your mother—”

“Said some terrible things. I know.”

I’m still stunned that mom thought her plan to intimidate Vanya would work. The woman cries when she has to smack a mosquito. I don’t think she’s ever said a harsh word to anyone.

Vanya slams a hand against her hips. Gone is the nervous lip-biting and collar-fondling. “Hey, your mom called me a gold digger for your own good.”

I give her an astonished look. “How are you okay with that?”

“Of course I’m not okay with that, but I’m not going to let it bother me. Words aren’t that powerful.”

“They sure as hell are. The right words can change everything. The wrong ones…” I think of my last conversation with Ollie. “They can destroy a life.”

She places a hand on my shoulder. “Your mom means well.”

“You forgive her so easily, but you hold grudges against me for much less,” I mumble darkly.

“I hold grudges against you because you’re not as well-meaning,” she responds with a toss of her head. “I don’t trust your intentions.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me or my intentions from now on. After I square things up at the bank, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Vanya cringes.

I stop in my tracks. “What was that look about?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, Beckford.”

She sighs. “The reason your mom did what she did yesterday was…”

“Was what?” I shuffle impatiently. I hate dramatic silences. “To stop my dad and I from fighting? She spends half her time refereeing us. I knew that already.”

“It was more than just damage control.”

“What do you mean?”

She folds her hands together. I don’t like the look on her face or the hesitation in her words. Vanya Beckford doesn’t pull her punches. Not around me.

“Your dad froze all your personal assets,” she blurts.

I let her words bounce against my body because they can’t be right. I refuse to believe them.

“No, he didn’t,” I growl.

“Your mom told me yesterday. She’s a verified source.”

“She takes evil mom lessons from K-dramas!”

“I believe her, Hadyn.”

“My dad froze my money?” I shake my head. “On what grounds?”

“Something about stealing from the company…”

“Stealing?” Horrified laughter spews from my lips. “Very funny, V. Is this your way of punishing me for the Fur-nando thing? If so, it’s not working.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she slowly shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

From the apology to the grave expression to the silence that settles on the room, I realize she’s telling the truth.

I stumble back, trembling in shock. “Dammit. Dammit. Dad just can’t quit.”

“Let me talk to him.” She squares her shoulders. “I’m sure there’s a mature and diplomatic way to work this out.”

“Not a damn chance,” I bite out. Mom might not have any experience intimidating people, but dad does. I don’t want him anywhere near Vanya or my impressionable kid. Screw the fact that Project Vegas is still a fetus.

Vanya looks offended. “I have great negotiating skills. One time, Juniper and I convinced a perfume company to sponsor a charity foundation in exchange for one photoshoot and an interview with me.”

She pauses as if she expects me to applaud.

When I don’t, she adds, “It was a huge deal.”

“Vanya, this isn’t a perfume company; this is my life.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m just trying to help!”

I struggle to regulate my breathing. “I know. I know.”

I’m not angry with her. I just wish I hadn’t been so naive. Of course dad wouldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. I should have been prepared, but I wasn’t. Instead, I let myself dream of an end to the humiliation.

I’ve managed to keep my pride all through begging room and board at Vanya’s because I know I have other options.

Now I’m fresh out.

Last week, dad pushed me off a cliff.

Today, he just sawed the life rope in half.

Vanya’s brown eyes are pleading with me. “Hadyn, maybe you should consider apologizing to your dad. If you make up with him—”

“Not going to happen.” I whip a hand through the air to punctuate the words.

Vanya steps closer to me. “He’s obviously trying to prove a point.”

“And I’m not?” I bark.

“What is your beef with him anyway? Your dad might be a tough guy, but he loves his family. I was invited to more than my fair share of Mulliez family dinners growing up. That much anyone could tell.”

“Love?” My gaze falls on her, cold and unflinching. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hadyn.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.” I step around her.

She slides into my way before I can barrel to the door. “What are you going to do?”

I glare at the wall above Vanya’s head.

Dark fingers curl around my bicep. She clings to me. “You’re not going to fight him, are you?”

“I need the morning off. I won’t be able to escort you to the publishing house today.” I set my hand over hers and gently pry her fingers off.

“Hadyn, wait. Let’s come up with a plan before you do something stupid.”

“I won’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re incapable of making such a promise,” she mutters.

I smile to dispel the tension in the air. None of this is her fault and I don’t want it to stress her out.

“Keep Vegas Project safe while I’m gone. Don’t drink too much chai because I’m not there to stop you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

I smile for her as I leave.

My grin fades when I head to dad’s office.

It’s an opulent space with the A/C set to Siberian winter. Dad’s a cold-blooded creature so he tends to prefer the cold. Silver and black are the main colors. His office, like his personality, is steely and unwelcoming. The chairs aren’t for comfort. They’re for appearances. An entire wall is dedicated to our family’s achievements, going back as far as my great-grandfather’s handshake with the president.

The Mulliez come from a long line of pretentious geezers who had no problems pushing their daughters and sons into careers and marriages that they didn’t want. It’s a sickness that claimed my brother’s life. But it sure as hell isn’t going to consume me.

Every muscle in my body goes rigid when dad’s apathetic eyes clasp onto me. “Your mother spilled, didn’t she?” He tuts in displeasure. “She’s always meddling that woman. Can’t bear to keep her nose out of things.”

“Does my life look like a toy to you?” I growl out. “What gives you the right to touch my money?”

“Your money? Oh, son. That money was accrued while you lived off our company funds. If you were paying for a house, a car, and all those extra-curricular activities of yours with your own dime, would you have a cent to your name?”

I swear the smugness in his voice is thick enough to choke all the air from my lungs.

My fingers curl into fists. “You can’t help yourself, can you? Now that Ollie’s gone, you need another son to control.”

Dad’s face turns a mottled red.

I stalk toward him. “I’m not a puppet on your string, dad.”

He inhales a deep breath, adjusts his tie and gathers himself. I see the moment he grabs all of his emotions and packs them into a tight ball.

Dad prides himself on being a man of control. He likes nothing more than plans that go exactly his way. It irks him when there’s a deviation of any kind.

Which is why we’ve been clashing since I was born.

“You made your choice and now you’re living with the consequences. Since you want to be a self-made man, I’m giving you the opportunity. Start from scratch just like all the other people whose names don’t end in Mulliez. It’s only fair.”

“You want to be fair? How about we stop with the underhanded backstabbing and settle this like real men?”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“On the track,” I say firmly.

Dad tilts his head back and laughs. “That’s your plan? Your first act to prove your maturity and independence is a race?”

“I win, you release my funds.”

“And if I win?” He arches a brow.

“I keep our family’s dirty laundry away from the press.”

His smug smile vanishes so quickly, I wonder if he’s suffering from a stroke. Dad smacks his palm on the desk and rises, a scowl tripping across his thin lips.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarls.

“You taught me to use what I know,” I say pleasantly. “I know all about great-granddaddy over there,” I point at the photo on the wall, “and his little backdoor deal with the government that got us our first contract. The glorious Mulliez family. Upstanding in every way. Valiant pillars of society… came from shameless crooks?”

Dad’s nostrils flare.

I pin my hands behind my back and walk a couple steps. “I think lots of reporters would have an interesting time with that.”

“You’re desperate.”

“Even a cornered rat will turn around and bite eventually.” I arch an eyebrow. “Are you willing to make a bet with me, dad?”

He straightens his jacket and lifts his chin. “Stop wasting my time, Hadyn.”

I laugh loudly. “I knew it. I knew you were too scared to compete with me. All those stories you used to tell me and Ollie about your glory days, the vintage race cars, the screaming fans, the trophies. All lies, weren’t they?”

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice drops to sub-zero temperatures, only a step above the air conditioning.

I nod at the picture of him in his racing suit. “How many of those races were rigged, dad? Did grampa swipe the organizers some sweet, Mulliez cash to get you that first place title?”

“You’re begging for a lesson, aren’t you?”

“Look,” I raise a hand and step back, “I understand if you don’t want to do it. You’re getting older. Eyesight’s not as good. Reflexes are on the fritz. I bet it’s been a while. You probably couldn’t beat me even if I gave you a head start.”

His teeth grind together. “Name the time and place.”

“Place is obvious. And the time? The sooner the better. You gotta understand. I’m in a little bit of a pinch. Not much I can do without access to my bank account.”

Dad smoothes his tie down with a hand and folds himself into his chair. “Deal. I’ll meet you at the race track after work this evening.”

“And you agree to the conditions? Drop this stupid investigation and unfreeze my funds if I win?”

“Deal. And that’s if you win.”

I smile.

He has no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this.

The sky is filled with twinkling stars. No one’s on the race track except me, dad and Will.

Dad shot down the idea of inviting an audience. Although I never run from a well-executed spectacle, I respect his wishes. Dad should have the opportunity to get his butt handed to him in private.

The velcro makes a squelching sound as I fix my gloves to fit more tightly on my wrists. I’m dressed in the white racing suit that Vanya made for me and Max. On the back is the name of Max’s mother. The day Vanya handed Max the suit was the first day I saw my friend near tears.

Will appears behind me like the sneaky butler that he is and hands me my helmet. “Master Mulliez, are you sure this is the best idea?”

“Worried about my dad, Will? Don’t be. I won’t beat him too badly. Just enough to get my point across.”

Even the black sheep of the family can have some sympathy. I’m not a complete bastard.

Will pulls his lips into his mouth and chooses not to respond.

I walk intently to the door. “Will, just because you’ve known dad longer doesn’t mean you can cheat for him, okay? I’ve got motion sensor cameras set up. No matter who you call, we’re going to verify the evidence.”

“I’ve been officiating races for years, Master Mulliez. I know how to be objective.”

“Great.” I pat his shoulder and smile.

I knew dad would take the bait, but I didn’t realize just how much I’d enjoy the prospect of beating him. The only thing that would be better was if Vanya were here to see…

“Hadyn Micheal Mulliez!”

Wow. I miss her so much I’m imagining her voice now.

A large shadow appears in the doorway of the lobby.

It’s really Vanya. Dark skin backlit by silver. Hair in gentle waves, cropped close to her head. She’s wearing a different outfit than the one this morning—a long, silver dress with hoop earrings. I hope she didn’t go to a fashion shoot without me or I’ll be pissed. The woman hasn’t rested in the past three days. She needs to slow down or she’ll hurt herself.

Vanya stomps toward me, her dress floating behind her. She looks like the goddess of the moon with all that silver bathing her face and flowing over her curvy body.

Or maybe she’s the goddess of war.

I catch sight of the lightning bolts crackling in her eyes and realize it might be a good idea to duck for cover.

Vanya screeches to a stop in front of me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I cut a glance at Will before returning my attention to her. “Suiting up?”

“For a race against your dad?”

Will clears his throat. “Master Mulliez. Lady Mulliez.”

“Lady…” Vanya’s eyes shoot to him and her face creases in confusion before she waves a hand. “You know what? I’ll address that later. You!” She pokes a finger in my chest. “Why is your dad outside in racing gear?”

Will slinks away, knowing better than to be anywhere close to this fight.

I close my hand around Vanya’s finger and push it down. “How did you know I was here?”

“Is that really important right now?”

“Kind of. Yeah.”

She huffs. Turning sideways so I can see her gorgeous profile, she speaks in an agitated tone. “You didn’t show up at the house and you weren’t answering your calls. I texted Max. He told me you’d called him and asked to use his race car.”

“Mine is still in the shop,” I explain.

“Exactly! Why is that? Because you crashed it!”

If she shrieks any harder, the windows will probably shatter.

“Vanya, first, you need to calm down. For Project Vegas’s sake.” I place a hand on her belly.

She scowls. “Don’t patronize me, Hadyn. I thought you said you’d handle the situation?”

“I did.” I throw my hands out to show her my racing suit. What part of it doesn’t she understand?

“Your best idea was to gamble? Is that what you default to? You just gamble your future away when you hit a roadblock?”

I grip her shoulder, fighting my own frustration. “Why are you getting so upset? It’s not like I put your money on the line.”

“There’s got to be a better way to do this, but you won’t listen to me. You won’t even take my opinions into consideration. Instead, you brush me off and make stupid deals with your dad. Deals that could get you hurt.”

“Hurt?” I blink slowly.

Vanya’s staring at me like she wants to pick me up and hurl me through the door.

I chuckle.

“Is something funny?” She warns in a low voice.

I want to live long enough to race my dad so I cut the laughter short. “No. It’s just…”

“What?”

“You’re worried about me.”

“I am not.” She places a hand to her chest and lets out an affronted gasp. “I’m upset because you’re making light of a serious situation.”

“Come on, Van. Just because I’m not solving the situation your way doesn’t mean I’m not taking it seriously.”

“What if you lose, huh?” She leans in until we’re almost nose-to-nose. “What if you don’t beat your father? What then?”

“Not gonna happen,” I say, trying not to get distracted by how close her lips are to mine.

“You don’t know that. Your father isn’t a novice. He’s the one who built this race track.”

“Dad hasn’t been behind the wheel of a race car in years.”

“He’s smart. How do you think he managed to build so many businesses?”

“Because he had grandad’s money to fund it?” My eyebrows crease. “Van, you’d rather stand here and yell at me than admit you’re worried?”

“That’s not happening,” she scoffs.

My heartbeat is speeding up. I wish I could say it was from nerves or excitement, but I know it’s because the woman standing next to me can raise my blood pressure without effort.

Will pops back into the lobby. “Master Mulliez, your father is ready.”

“Just a sec, Will.” I look down at a fuming Vanya. “I have to go.” Sidestepping her, I make my way to the door.

“Wait.”

I freeze.

Vanya turns sharply and stalks toward me. Her heels clip the ground and her hips sashay like a dream. She walks right into my chest, crowding my personal space and causing me to stumble back.

She keeps moving forward.

So I keep moving back, not sure if she’s going to hit me or choke me or try to break my arm so I can’t race.

Vanya backs me up against the wall. Her brown eyes hold me in a trance and her hands slam against either side of my head, caging me in.

She’s so close that every time she exhales I get hit with cinnamon-scented breath.

The pulse in my pants moves all the way to my skull.

“Don’t you dare,” she grumbles, “get hurt or I will wait until your bones set and break them again. Do you understand me? I will not pay a ridiculous amount in healthcare insurance for an employee who’s only worked for two days.”

I slide my hands around her waist and yank her closer. She gasps and falls into me. Her chests brushes mine. My nostrils flare and my heartbeat kicks into extreme-salsa mode.

My fingers rasp against her chin, tilting her head up.

She slaps a hand over her mouth. “Don’t you dare kiss me.”

I laugh and pull her forward anyway, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “For luck.” I wink. Releasing her, I walk into the night.

Dad is standing under one of the race track lights. He’s wearing a black racing suit that fits him well. I wonder how long it’s been since he pulled that on.

The gloves on his hands are new. There are no signs of the burn marks that naturally arise after hours of holding the steering wheel. His helmet is cradled against his arm and his hip. He lifts it when he sees me coming.

“Dad.” I nod sternly to him.

A frown flickers over his lips. “You’re late.”

“It takes a while to look this pretty.” I gesture to my racing suit, turning so he can get the full effect.

His eyes glint over the name across the back. “I didn’t take you for someone sentimental.”

“She was a part of my life. More involved than you were at least.” I ram the helmet over my hair. “We gonna stand out here all night talking or are we going to race?”

Will walks up to us.

Dad gives him a look and then slides his helmet on. He’s a lot more fluid with it than I expected. I guess some things are like riding a bicycle.

“We should have asked Vanya to be the flag girl,” I muse to myself. Then I snort. She’d just as soon whack me with the flag than prance around and drop it at the start of the race.

Dad climbs into his car.

I clamber into mine.

The smell of gasoline and turbo fluid fills my nostrils. Every time I’m in a race car, I can practically hear Ollie in my ear, telling me not to trip up the clutch. Sometimes, I hate racing because of how close it makes me feel to my brother. Other times, it’s the only thread keeping me alive.

I close my fingers over the stick shift and wait for the gunshot.

Five.

Four.

Dad’s engine makes a guttural sound as he tests the gas pedal.

Three.

I let my own engine rip, proving to him that I’m not intimidated in the least.

Two.

The lights above the stadium switch from red to yellow.

I curl my fingers tighter over the wheel and let out a deep breath. My heart slows to the space of milli-seconds as I wait to hear that gunshot.

Bang!

I slam the gas pedal to the floor and tear away from the starting line. The world is a blur outside my window as I drive at speeds that could tear someone’s skin right off their skull.

The road and I become one and I take the lead. I’m cocky about it until, at the first curve, dad does a smooth corner move that sends him rocketing forward.

My jaw drops.

The hell?

We’re side by side now. I twist my neck and stare into dad’s car. He gives me a cocky grin from beneath his helmet.

The old man has tricks.

To hell with preserving dad’s ego. I decide not to play the game in easy mode and shift gears. The engine responds seamlessly, opening up to push more fuel in and push more power out.

“Whoo!” I yell as I overtake dad on the second lap.

It’s too early for a celebration because dad unleashes turbo and speeds up until he’s nosing in front of me.

I don’t allow myself to panic. Dad’s moves are perfect, but I’ve got something he doesn’t—guts. Dad won’t allow himself to make risky moves because he’s not that kind of guy. But that’s his downfall.

I wait until we’re halfway down on the last lap before I shift to turbo. The car leaps forward with such speed that my head flops against the back of my chair.

Dad shifts gears to keep up, but he slows down to brake for the curve.

I don’t.

I take the curve fast and hard. The car’s back-end jerks hard to the left as I turn my steering wheel until it bucks. The scream of tires and the smell of burning rubber hits my nose as I shift gears again and sprint over the finish line.

Dad’s car zips in behind me, but it’s clear who the winner is.

I climb out of the car and rip my helmet off, grinning victoriously. Dad takes his time to get out. Setting his feet carefully on the ground, he straightens and strides toward me.

“Nice race,” he says grudgingly.

I offer my hand.

He stares at it.

I push my hand at him. “Ollie taught me to always show good sportsmanship. No matter who I’m driving against.”

Dad blinks rapidly. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he takes my hand and pumps. “You took the curve like a lunatic.”

“You were driving too smoothly for me. I had to guarantee the win.”

“Humph.”

Will shuffles toward us. “Good game, Master Mulliez.”

Dad hands Will his helmet and walks off the track. I’m not surprised that he’s heading out without further conversation. All the Mulliez men are sore losers. Mom used to have a headache on her hands when dad had the time to play games with us.

“Remember our deal!” I yell at his back.

He lifts a hand in a two fingered wave. I’m going to assume that means he understands and he’ll release the funds as soon as possible.

Still grinning widely, I lift my eyes to the bleachers, looking for a lone figure sitting in the dark.

There’s no one there.

“Vanya?” I climb over the fence and hike the bleachers to see if she’s at the very top. My voice echoes back to me. “Vanya?”

Still no one.

Maybe she went to the bathroom.

I’m on my way into the building when I get a text.

Vanya: Congratulations on your win. You deserve to celebrate. As a gift, I’ll give you tomorrow off, so don’t worry about coming home early.

My eyebrows cinch together.

What the hell is this text?

Is she so angry she’s telling me not to bother coming home tonight?

My head starts pounding. Vanya Beckford is the only woman who can make me swing from elated to furious in the space of three seconds.

I dial her number and slam the cell phone to my ear. Rubbing my nose from the cold, I wait while it dials.

At first, I think she’s not going to answer.

But the line connects.

“Hello?” Vanya’s voice sweeps into my head and shakes out a frustration that I can’t even identify.

“What the hell was that message, Van? Don’t bother coming home early?”

“Why are you so angry?” she snaps at me. “I’m trying to be considerate.”

“Considerate of what?” I bark.

“You’ve been locked up with me all weekend. Yesterday, you helped me work on my cookbook outline in the middle of the night. You haven’t had a chance to enjoy a regular Hadyn-Mulliez party since Vegas.”

“I told you I’m not screwing around with anyone while you’re pregnant.”

“And I’m not going to hold you to that because you’re Hadyn and a baby takes nine months to pop out of the oven. Besides, I’m not telling you to go sleep with someone if you don’t want to. But you have access to your money now. You can hang out with your friends. Get a taste of your normal life back. I’m not showing yet and I can still pass for a non-pregnant woman. There’s no need for you to hover over me right now.”

“Is that really what you want? For me to go and party without you?”

“Yes,” she says without a moment’s hesitation.

This obnoxious, infuriating, stubborn woman…

“Alright. Then tonight, I’m doing exactly what I want to do.”

She coughs. “Why are you saying it like that? I literally just told you to do that.”

“Bye, Van.”

I change off quickly and drive to the drive thru near Vanya’s apartment. Then, with the money I made from my weekend working as Vanya’s assistant, I pick up a few things at the grocery store. As I’m walking to the cashier, something catches my eye. I smile and drop it in the cart.

When I let myself into the house later, Vanya’s in the couch, her feet propped under her and a game show playing on the television.

“Hadyn?” Her eyebrows jump when she sees me standing in the foyer with all the grocery bags.

She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and her feet are bare. The woman is knock-out stunning even when she’s wearing regular clothes.

“What are you doing here?” Her jaw drops when she sees my newest purchase. “Are those… duck slippers?”

“I found them at the grocery store.” I show them off confidently.

She stays still for so long I wonder if she’s having an out of body experience.

“This is for you.” I hand her the chai and she gives me a starry look. I frown at her. “Don’t get any ideas. That’s to keep you from complaining about how long it takes. I know you can’t eat red meat so I’m making steamed salmon with potatoes and tossed salad. It’ll be a while before it’s ready.”

She blinks in shock.

I stalk to the kitchen with my bags of groceries.

Then I stomp back to the living room because the words are burning in my chest. “By the way, there’s no one I’d rather celebrate with than you.”