Grumpy Romance : A Romantic Comedy (Billionaire Dads)

HOLLAND

She says my name and I know I’m going to blow her mind all night long. I know I’m going to drag her straight to heaven and back. I know I’m going to hold on to her for the rest of my life.

“You’re harder on yourself than you are on everyone else. And that’s saying something.” Her voice is soft. Her hands are even softer. “Because you are a menace to everyone else.”

“I get results,” I say. “You can’t deny that.”

“Can you not be arrogant right now? We’re having a moment.”

“This is a moment?” I’m past the moment. I’ve exposed everything I am. All the broken pieces.

I let it go.

That was me releasing my grip on the past.

Darrel was right. I can’t hold on to the guilt and hold on to love. One of them has to give. And losing Kenya Jones is not going to happen.

I loved Claire. She was my wife and the mother of my child. I will forever regret what I did to her, and I’m going to pave the way for Belle because I know that’s what she would have wanted. That’s what she started Belle’s Beauty for.

But this grip Kenya Jones has on me won’t go away any time soon. I’m a prisoner to her and she has no freaking idea.

Is it sudden?

Hell no.

People think change is dramatic, but it’s really not. It’s coming to a new revelation. It’s stumbling on a different way of thinking. Everything clicks into place when the time is right.

And the time is now.

Now I’m ready to tear her clothes off.

She gives me a stern look. “I wanted to give you compliments, but it seems your ego doesn’t need any help from me.”

“I have other things that need help from you,” I murmur.

She narrows her eyes. “Alistair.”

“Say my name, Kenya.”

Her mouth twists into a frown. She’s pure attitude and perfection. She’s my biggest temptation squeezed into tight blue jeans. Jeans I’m absolutely rolling down to her ankles the minute she stops giving me those angry eyes.

“Where do you get that confidence from? It’s boundless. I’m astonished.”

“I came clean. There’s nothing left to lose now. You know everything. You can destroy me if you want.”

Her eyes soften. “I’m not interested in destroying you, Alistair.”

“It’s too much work?” I tease.

“I’m not afraid of work.”

I know. I’ve seen the way she handles herself at the office. With integrity. With pride.

This woman can rule an empire given enough time.

“I wanted to take things slow. Tease it out.” My eyes drop to her lips. My voice gets ragged. “But today changed things for me. You already met Belle. She already adores you.”

Her lips tilt up. It’s instinctual. I can see that she loves my daughter too.

I graze my hand slowly over her back.

She eases away. “It’s not that I don’t… feel something.”

Feel something? Is she that afraid to label it?

“You know what I’ve been through.” Her gaze darts away from mine. “My ex—”

“Was a bastard and I’m nothing like him. I wouldn’t have brought you home and introduced you to my daughter if I wasn’t serious.”

Her breath hitches. She searches for another excuse. “The office. What if people find out?”

“Let them.”

“I don’t want people like Heather to misunderstand. I worked hard as a clerk. I worked hard when I was running around at Belle’s Beauty HQ. And I damn sure worked hard when I started working for you. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Okay.” I spit the word out. I hate hiding, but if it’s what she wants… “We won’t tell anyone else at the office.” My fingers slide over her cheek. “And who knows? Ducking into storage closets to kiss you might be hot.”

She rolls her eyes. “I want to avoid the rumors for as long as I can.”

“Fine. I’ll only ravish you in my office with the door locked.”

“Alistair.”

“Anything else? That first demand sounds easy enough.”

She narrows her eyes. “You can’t be staring at me in meetings. Or sending me coffee.”

“Impossible. You’re all I can see when you walk into the room. And you love Ezekiel’s coffee.”

“Alistair.”

“Say my name, Kenya,” I growl.

Her eyes sharpen in response. “You keep staring at me like you want to eat me alive and people are going to notice.”

I hold her stare.

She doesn’t blink.

I give in. “Fine. Any other requests?”

“You’ll agree to anything?”

“Within reason.”

Her fingers touch my chin, obliterating the space between us. “Then let’s give this a shot.”

My heart slams through my ribs, barrels into her hands and starts beating like a maniac. I kiss her fingers savagely.

Her sigh falls out of her like buried treasures I want to unearth one by one.

If I had to pick someone to parade through my nightmares and drag me out of my darkness, I don’t think my heart could have stumbled on a better choice.

I tug Kenya close. She trembles in my grasp and I love that she can’t hide how much I affect her.

“I need to tell you one more thing.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Sutherburg might come looking for you.”

Her eyes get big. “What? Why?”

“Just stay away from him, alright? If he has any business with Baby Box, it goes through me. No exceptions.”

“But—”

I place a finger on her soft lips. “No exceptions.”

She looks into my eyes and nods.

Satisfied, I scoop her knees and shift her around so I have better access to her mouth. Framing her cheeks with my hands, I ease my head down and settle my lips on top of hers.

She sighs again, longer and lower this time. Her body inclines toward mine, pressing against me in all the right places and teasing the heat already flickering in my veins until it burns hotter than ever.

The desire in my body drives me up a wall.

Groaning, I attack her mouth until she opens and I deepen the kiss, holding her close enough that her body fuses into mine. No doubts. No guilt. No distractions.

Her hands skate over the back of my neck and into my hair where she tugs, like she did the night of our first kiss. And again, my body responds with a blazing shot of adrenaline that turns me into an animal.

Closer.

I need her closer still.

And she obliges.

Her fingers scrape my scalp and remind me that love can hurt as much as it heals.

I don’t mind.

She’s the only one I’d trust to hurt me.

My pulse hammers and I fold her legs around me, needing her body as much as I need oxygen. She understands the way I’m guiding her and rises to her knees, straddling me.

Through our clothes, the heat of the kiss blazes and teases me with the promise of more.

Kenya arches her back and digs her fingernails into my shoulder when I drive her down on top of my lap.

A tornado falling from the sky isn’t going to keep my hands off her tonight.

I pull away from her even though it kills me and grumble, “Bedroom. Now.”

She nods rather than argue, and I know her brain is still scrambled from our caresses.

Hauling her up, I wrap her legs around me and almost explode when she thrusts her hips. I know I should be moving, but I don’t have the patience.

My lips fuse to her chocolate mouth again and I enjoy a taste that’s more decadent than any coffee I’ve ever had. Her fingers dig into the back of my neck, matching my passion, begging to be claimed whole.

I’m so freaking happy to indulge.

With a rough groan, I pop away from her lips, trailing my hot breath and little nips of kisses over her neck. I taste every bit of her skin, exploring my way up to her ear.

“Kenya,” I growl.

“Y-yes.”

“You’re going to be saying ‘yes’ a lot tonight.” I press my lips against her jaw, where her neck meets her bone, and she trembles, grinding against the raging need inside me. “You’re going to be screaming my name.”

She’s already on the edge. I can tell. Curls spilling down her shoulders, eyes glowing like twin torches.

My body almost convulses at that look.

I force myself to focus. “But when you call out my name, I want you groaning the right one.”

“The country?”

My mind is delirious with desire, but that earns a chuckle.

I run my hands down her spine. My voice is rough. A warning. Vocal chords striking against sandpaper. “Do you understand?”

“You bark orders in the day and the night, huh?” Her voice is heavy. As heavy as her chest that pushes against me.

My lips attack her again, this time with raw hunger, with a bite, with a promise of all the wicked things I plan to do to her tonight.

Then, I whisk her into the bedroom and I tease her until she learns her lesson.

“Holland.” She purrs. With need. With desperation.

Then, and only then, do I give her what she wants.

I kiss her.

I torment her.

I worship her.

And then I hold her like she’s the most precious person in my world.

Her leg wraps around mine, her breathing even.

I never thought I had it in me to give all of myself to another woman. I was so sure, after Claire, that I wouldn’t lose my heart again.

Then Kenya Jones barged in and took it.

And she wasn’t satisfied. This woman. After gunning for my heart, she took my mind. My soul. My body.

So I punished her for it.

I shattered her.

And then I put her back together so I could shatter her again.

She was a sticky mess when I took her into the shower to clean her off. And now her body is languid. Liquid heat. She’s draped over me like we’re one piece. Like something that can’t separate. Not without breaking.

Her hair is a wild mess. She mumbled something about a bonnet before I pulled her into my chest and muffled the rest of her words with a slow, winding kiss.

Now, she’s almost out.

Poor thing.

I didn’t really give her a chance to catch her breath tonight. Too much pent-up want. Too many days watching her prance around the office in those tight skirts and those heels. Too many nights wishing she was in my arms when I woke up.

I wind hypnotic circles over her hip, needing her close even though I spent all night finding new and creatives ways to hear my name fall out of her mouth.

Her breath skitters over me. Her eyes are sliding shut, but I can still see a sliver of midnight black. Onyx jewels. So dark they consume the night.

Our lips brush because I need to feel her again, even if I know she’s too tired for another round.

She glances up now, more awake than she was before.

My gaze doesn’t soften. It intensifies. My finger strokes her hip more firmly. “Kenya.”

“Mm?” Her voice is soft. Trusting.

It resonates in me. That tone. Those eyes.

“I meant to ask.” I skim my lips over her forehead. “How did it go at brunch today?”

She stiffens and I wonder if I should have saved that question for another time. Maybe when we weren’t naked. When I hadn’t just pounded the life out of her like I’m barely freaking human.

With a deep breath, she rolls on her back and stares at the ceiling. The blanket goes with her, wrapping around her stunning body the way my fingers ache to.

I decide jealousy doesn’t look good on me. Gripping the sheet, I tug her until she rolls my way again. I press my lips to her cheek, inhaling the breath that spills out of her.

“If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to say anything,” I rasp. “But you belong here.” My tone hardens. “You belong next to me. Don’t hide your pain… because I want it. I made room for it. Okay?”

The sorrow in her eyes drives a knife through my gut. She bites down on her lip. I want to tug it back where I can see it. Preferably with my mouth, but I let her have her space.

Finally, she glances down. “Felice was there.”

“Did your dad give you a heads-up?”

“No.” Her eyebrows pinch in the middle of her forehead. Whatever happened ate her up inside.

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“You made room, didn’t you?” She gazes up at me, her big brown eyes spitting more light than the moon. “You offered, so you can have it.”

I caress her back and nod.

Her lips press together in a slight grimace. “They told me I was being selfish.”

My body tightens with frustration. It’s crazy to me that anyone would say that about Kenya. She’s hardheaded and stubborn. Sure. And I’m obsessed with her because of that. It’s sexy to see her take control of her work. She knows when to be firm. When to get to business. When to cut someone off and knife through excuses.

She’s amazing. But she’s not cold. Never harsh. And always willing to throw herself into the trenches to achieve something. If this woman is selfish, the world has no hope.

Kenya blinks rapidly as if trying to hold back tears. “Dad thinks I should get over myself and start being a part of the wedding prep.”

“You’re kidding. Are they that lost without you?”

“I think Felice is annoyed that she has to do it all on her own. Sasha was never good at party planning. I was the one always fussing about the details and putting things together.”

I can see that easily. From day one, Kenya was making my life at the office easier. And she did it out of spite. I can’t imagine how productive she is when she’s working out of love for her family.

There’s a fierce glow in her eyes when she says, “Felice jumping on me doesn’t hurt as much. I mean, it does. But I also get it. Sasha’s her flesh and blood. Of course she’s going to side with her.”

“That’s no excuse,” I growl. “You don’t hurt the people you love and excuse the behavior by claiming you’re related. Family isn’t about flesh and blood. Hell, Darrel is more of a family to me than anyone I’m related to.”

“Still, it’s understandable.”

I allow that because I can see that she doesn’t appreciate the interruptions.

“But my dad… he’s… I always thought he’d have my back. I thought, if anyone would say…” A fat tear rolls down her cheek. “If anyone would say, just once, that Sasha was wrong. That she hurt me. That it wasn’t cool—maybe I’d be able to move on. Maybe I could shut my mouth and try to be there.”

Stricken, I curve my finger under her eye and chase the tear away. “Kenya.”

“But I guess that was wishful thinking.” She sniffs.

My gaze drops to her trembling lips. I sooth her as best as I can, struggling to hold back my harsh thoughts about her family. Women are tricky. They’re allowed to critique their relatives, but no one else can point out the flaws.

I decide to keep my mouth shut and just listen.

“When Sasha first got sick, my dad was the one who asked me to drop out of all the after-school clubs I was in. He’s the one who asked me to help out more around the house since Felice was gone so often with Sasha at the hospital. I never said no. I never told them I was tired. That I was lonely. That I wanted someone to hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. I knew I had to be strong because Sasha was going through something terrible. And they didn’t have time for the both of us.”

Damn. I want to punch something. She was a kid. How could they expect her to fend for herself when they should have been there?

“I took on more hours and I almost didn’t graduate. I spent all my free time at the hospital. I gave everything without expecting any acknowledgement. Because that’s family. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

“They drained you and they didn’t pour anything back,” I whisper. “And you still found more to give. Of course it hurts when they accuse you of being selfish. The family should have gone up in flames when they found out your sister cheated with that punk. There should have been such an uproar that a wedding wouldn’t even happen.”

She sniffs. Her tears spill against my chest like acid rain and fall into the pillow.

I rub her shoulder, kiss her hair and search for something, anything to fix it. When wracking my brain gets me nowhere, I ask outright. “What do you want me to do?”

She glances up.

“Where does your ex work? What does he do? I can ruin it. I know everyone. And anyone I don’t know will know someone. Tell me how you want me to destroy them. I’ll touch only the ones you want. I’ll leave the rest. Just say the word.”

She chuckles.

I blink down at her, shocked. Did heartbreak send her into temporary insanity?

Kenya covers her face and laughs harder.

“What?”

“You said that so seriously.”

“Because I am serious.”

“Alistair,” she drops her hands, “this is between me and my family. Whatever I decide to do, whether I cut them off or suck it up and attend the wedding, they’re still my people.”

“Not to me. You treat me like crap, I’ll treat you like crap. You don’t have to be in my life if you’re only making a mess of it.”

“Maybe I’m different.”

“Maybe taking care of your sister for so long made excusing her behavior a habit.”

Her lips tug down.

I know I shouldn’t go there, yet I can’t stop myself. I’ve tiptoed around it for as long as I can, but I don’t take well to seeing the people I care about getting hurt. Especially when the cut goes this deep.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do. Like you said. They’re your family. But I do think that your sister needs to give you a proper apology. Something tells me she hasn’t done that yet.”

“She said sorry.” Kenya’s eyes fall away.

“And then she asked you to be a part of her wedding, threw a tantrum and sent your parents after you when you didn’t jump for joy.” I give her a dry look.

She returns it with a scowl.

I rest my forehead against hers and her harsh eyes soften. “Kenya, you decide what you allow and who you allow into your life. No one can force you to accept their bad behavior. If they care for you, if they love you, they’re going to show it. It’s not going to be a one-way street. And if it is, that’s not family. That’s a manipulator.”

She sighs. “You’re a therapist now?”

“I don’t need a degree to diagnose this one. I’m a businessman. I see BS a mile away.”

She cuddles into me. Her eyes go heavy again. “Who knew Holland Alistair could care about someone other than himself?”

“I’m not that bad,” I mumble, nuzzling her hair with my cheek.

“You’re pretty awful.”

“And yet you were begging me for…”

“Sh.” She places a finger on my lips. “I’m tired.”

I kiss her temple. “Then go to sleep, Kenya.”

She lays her head against my chest and I wrap my arms around her.

Time stops.

My body thrums with contentment and I pull her closer to me.

She fits perfectly in my arms. Where she belongs.

“Miss Jones sent lunch,” Ezekiel says, huffing into my office and plunking a container on the desk.

I stop drafting my email to the Fine Industries licensing attorney and smile at the lunch bags. The smell of savory sauce fills my nostrils.

“Is she still at the factory?” I ask, grabbing one of the bags. It unzips with a loud metallic sound.

“Yes. Bernard brought it over.” Ezekiel gives me a stink eye.

“You have something to say, Ezekiel?”

“You’ve turned us both into your cupid service.”

“Kenya wants to keep it a secret.” I notice a text from her and pick up my phone, muttering distractedly, “You’ll have to put up with it until she stops wanting me to meet her in dark stairwells.”

“Humph.”

Kenya: Eat something. Or you’ll be even grumpier than usual.

Holland: How did you know I was thinking about you?

Kenya: Don’t assume I was doing the same.

Holland: Admit it. You’re obsessed with me.

Kenya: I’m helping you out because you’re Belle’s dad. There’s no other reason.

I grin and set my phone down. She’s great at dancing around what she feels for me but, in the past few weeks, her lips have been doing a whole lot of confessing. Mostly in the shadows with my hands down her skirt and my tongue…

“Alistair,” Ezekiel taps my desk, “is there anything else?”

“Why are you in such a rush to leave?”

A pleased smile flits across his weathered face. “Miss Jones also prepared food for me.”

I instantly scowl. “What? Why?”

“Maybe because she feels sorry for me?” He gives me a pointed stare. “And what I’m forced to endure everyday.”

My eyes narrow.

His narrow in return. Damn. Kenya really has rubbed off on him.

I wave him away. “Go enjoy your lunch.”

“You know,” Ezekiel says, backing out of the room, “I truly enjoy the changes Miss Jones is bringing out in you. I’ve never had a real lunch break before.”

“Should I rectify that? I have many tasks that need your immediate attention.”

His face remains blank, but his lips fall slightly. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

I laugh when he walks out. It’s so like Kenya to prepare lunch for Ezekiel too. It wouldn’t surprise me if Bernard got lunch as well.

What part of her is selfish? Her folks are crazy. There is not a selfish bone in that woman’s body. She’d rather cook for three just to get lunch to me. She’d take it personally if others felt left out. That is the mark of a woman who needs to be cherished, not torn down.

I eat the food she prepared, savoring every grain of burnt rice and rubbery chicken. Kenya wasn’t kidding when she said she doesn’t cook often, but I’m honored that she’s cooking for me. It means something, even if it tastes like recycled plastic.

After lunch, I get back to work and only emerge when Ezekiel informs me that Kenya is back.

I shoot out of my chair like a rocket and stomp outside. She’s getting sneakier. I told her to report to me the moment she stepped foot in the building. Why wasn’t she in my office, in my lap, on my desk, the second she returned from the factory?

I want to storm to her office and teach her a lesson. The kind that will have her toes curling as she pants out my name. But Kenya is determined to keep us under wraps, and it’ll be suspicious if employees hear low, guttural moans two seconds after I storm over to her room.

Holland: Stairwell. Now.

I hit send and get on the move.

Greetings rise up like dust as I stalk my way down the corridor. As usual, I barely spare anyone a glance and nod in what I hope is a semblance of acknowledgement.

I crash through the door of the emergency stairwell and glance around. Kenya’s not there yet. My eyes slide up to the winding staircase above. No movement or sound.

The door to the stairwell below opens. Kenya has a habit of taking the elevator and then walking up the stairs to ‘avoid suspicion’. She truly put thought into this. Which I appreciate because my mind goes blank whenever I see her.

Slowly, her body comes into focus and my fingers tighten around the railings. From the maroon pantsuit that drapes her curvy body, to her tight curls, to her brown skin and those mysterious dark eyes, she’s gorgeous.

Mind, body and soul.

I’d have to stab my eyes with knives to tear them away from her.

Kenya’s gaze slams into mine. Both of us start smiling like idiots.

“What’s so funny?” She stops a few steps down.

“Nothing.” I shake my head.

“You’re smiling for no reason?”

“I have a reason.”

She tilts her head, waiting.

I just keep staring at her.

“Do I have something on my face?” She scrunches her nose.

“No, you’re just absolutely breathtaking.”

The confused expression melts into a smile. A happy exhale flees her lips. “Thanks for the compliment. Now what do you want?”

I descend the stairs until I’m beside her. Setting my hands around her waist, I pull her into me and inhale deeply. She slips her arms around my neck and hugs me back.

There’s no denying that this woman was made to fit in my arms. She’s soft. Pliant. At ease. She hasn’t lost her strength. She simply doesn’t need her shields up with me.

I love that she withdraws her little porcupine quills when I touch her. Her trust falls on me like silk. Smooth and precious.

I slide a kiss over her hair, inhaling her amazing scent.

She glances up slowly. Midnight-black eyes fall into mine.

“Are you expecting something?” I tease, noting the way she tilts her chin up and puckers her lips.

Her expression pinches with annoyance. She pushes away from me. “You’re right. We both have a lot to do. We shouldn’t be sneaking away for—”

I snap my fingers around her wrist and haul her back to me. My tongue slides across her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth open. She sighs into my kiss and it turns my body to liquid warmth.

I swear, I could hold this woman forever.

I’m that hooked on her.

Easing back, I caress her cheek and slide my other hand across her neck, loving how the light plays on her face.

“The Yazmite location sent their report. They were grateful for the extra set of hands from HQ. The promotion almost caused a stampede. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but it could have been wild.”

“Mm.” I fuse her hips to mine. My arms wrap around her like fleshy ropes and I run my lips down her neck.

“I’ll talk to them about follow-up sales.” She breathes out shakily. “If I can even catch a break with the Baby Box production. We’re running all over the place trying to make the deadline.”

“I’ll assign more people from the admin team to help. If you have more hands, it’ll be…” my lips brush over hers, “easier, right?”

She looks dazed. “More hands? If you put any more hands on me, Alistair, I might die.”

My body hardens. It’s crazy how fast she gets my engines revving. It doesn’t matter what she’s doing or where I am. If I even sniff a hint of her perfume, I’m already there.

Our lips meet again. The soft, slick heat of her tongue skating over mine turns my desire into a roaring inferno. Need presses against me, harder, longer, more desperate for release.

I’ve wanted her all freaking day.

She smiles against my lips, causing my puckered mouth to hit against her teeth. Her arms close around my back, kneading her fingers into taut muscles.

Shifting her hips against mine like she knows exactly how much I need her, she sighs. “I’ve decided to talk to Sasha.”

My breath moves over her face. I study her carefully. “You need back-up?”

“Aren’t you curious about what I’ll talk to her about?”

“I know that whatever decision you make, it’ll be the right one,” I whisper, letting out my own rough sigh when she scrapes her nails across my scalp. “And,” I bite out, “I know that I’ll be there for you. Wherever the chips fall.”

“Hmm.”

I dig my fingers into her generous backside. “You want to explain that look?”

“Only if you promise to take me home tonight.”

“Baby, I’ll take you home, take you to heaven, take you wherever you want to go.”

She giggles against my lips. “So I can see Belle.”

I pull her plump bottom lip into my mouth. “Tease.”

She laughs softly.

I stare at her in awe, my tongue too heavy to move. She’s turned me into the kind of man who melts at the touch of the hand, who comes running whenever she’s near, who thinks about forever and forgiveness and moving on.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but Kenya Jones has a way of making insanity feel like bliss.

“I’ll take you home,” I growl, “and then when Belle’s asleep, I’m going to…” I whisper the warning, the wicked threat, in her ear.

Her knees buckle and I don’t catch her. Instead, I pin her body to the railing and kiss her like we’re in the middle of an apocalypse. She makes these breathy, shuddering noises that drive me wild, so it takes me a second to register the sound of a door slamming shut.

When I realize that I didn’t imagine the thump, I jump back.

Kenya stiffens too.

We both look up in the direction of the door. Then our eyes slowly return to each other and a slow realization passes through her expression.

Someone was in the stairwell.

We were caught.