Rosabel And The Billionaire Beast (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 6) Page 3

  She couldn’t deny that she’d wanted more of that side of him, but then he’d brandished his old self once more. His presumptuous, entitled, selfish self. She tore into the mail, staring at the bills, feeling the weight of her situation pressing harder on her with every new envelope.

  What was she going to do?

  * * *

  Duncan didn’t ordinarily have this hard of a time getting a woman off his mind, but Rosabel had gripped tightly with both hands and wasn’t about to let him go. He’d never been quite so transparently rejected before. In a recent conversation, Maddox had accused Duncan of falling for his assistant. Duncan had denied it, but maybe Maddox was right.

  Maddox had read his feelings better than Duncan read them himself; Duncan had really—really—come to care about Rosabel.

  She’d accused him of taking her for granted. Maybe he had. That much was clear when her replacement came that morning and offered him a Styrofoam cup—a cup! —of bitter coffee. He’d snapped at her to get him some cream, and she’d stalked out.

  It was just as well. Not everyone could banter like Rosie.

  New rumors spread around the office. Rumors about why Rosabel had left. Unlike the other gossip that made the rounds, this was anything but quiet. There were glances. There were oddly stilling conversations at his approach and the unmistakable sense he’d interrupted something that had nothing to do with their jobs and everything to do with him.

  “He barked at her one too many times, if you ask me,” Gale muttered to Holly from within their shared cubicle. “Rose always insisted nothing was going on between them.”

  Duncan rested an arm on the cubicle’s ledge and peered down at the blond and brunette heads clustered together. The sight was almost laughable. Almost. “Anyone I know?” he growled.

  Gale leapt in her chair. Holly released a squeak, her face bright red as her eyes cast a culpable glance in his direction. Guiltily, the two women swiveled back to their screens without a word.

  “Ridiculous,” Duncan grumbled, not caring if they heard him. Heat flushed through him, and he stormed to his office, closed the door, and whipped out his phone. He called the only person he could trust with this torrent of stupidity, emotional and otherwise. Rosabel had thrown his world upside down, and he didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

  “She finally got sick of you,” Maddox said when Duncan told him she’d quit.

  Duncan paced from the spider plant in the corner to the bookshelf near his bathroom and back again. “May I remind you how you ended up finding the love of your life? You and Adelie would never have done that photo shoot in the first place if I hadn’t talked you into it, and now you’re happily married. And you had an incredible honeymoon that Rosabel arranged for you … at my request.”

  “All right,” Maddox said with a laugh. Duncan could picture him lifting his hand in surrender. “You miss her, don’t you?”

  Pulse in his throat, Duncan paused before the window, but he refused to peer out at the golden spread of grass in the afternoon sunlight outside. Instead, he looked at the discarded Styrofoam cup in the garbage and relived the coffee’s acrid taste. “She knew how to make coffee the right way,” he gritted out with reluctance.

  “Uh-huh. And no one else can make coffee for you the way she did, is that it?”

  “Exactly,” Duncan said. At least someone got it. “Rosabel had just the right mix of cream and sugar. She could always blend it just the right way—wait. Are you laughing? You’re laughing.”

  “Sorry,” Maddox said. “I’ve never heard you so bent out of shape over a woman.”

  “I mean, it’s Rosabel,” Duncan said, as if that should say it all.

  “Yes, it is. So what are you going to do about it?”

  Duncan slumped into the chair behind his desk, his posture sagging. “She didn’t just quit, man. She slammed me. Hard.”

  “How?”

  “I asked if she would date me. And she said no.”

  Maddox laughed louder this time. Laughter. Of all the reactions he could possibly have.

  Duncan rolled up his left sleeve, then his right. “May I now remind you who was there for you after Ruby dumped your sorry backside and left you destitute? And who gave your theme park a chance? Who gave you the brilliant idea of rebranding that has now paid off in the region of millions?”

  Maddox’s laughter died off. “All right, all right. I guess I am enjoying this a little too much. You’re just … usually you’re so closed off about personal stuff. This is kind of strange for me.”

  “What else am I supposed to be?”

  “Nothing.” Maddox’s tone was more serious this time. “Tell me what happened.”

  Duncan did. He told the whole blasted situation with his grandmother, his mother, his preposterous, impulsive offer to Rosabel, and her unapologetic, automatic rejection.

  “Sounds like she needs help,” Maddox said.

  Duncan gaped at the retro painting with its red and black shapes on the wall, gripping the phone in his hand. Rosabel needed help? “What? What makes you say that?”

  “You said she wouldn’t quit because she needed the money. That probably hasn’t changed. If her dad is sick, she is probably hurting right now, and you’re being, well, you. Dude, she probably couldn’t handle one more thing, and to have you throw a relationship at her was too much.”

  Duncan remained silent for several moments. He and Maddox had talked about women many times, but his friend had never displayed such sharp powers of deduction. Then again, he had changed quite a bit since marrying Adelie. “Since when did you get this perceptive?”

  “I’m only saying, sometimes having someone else’s view on things can help us see it differently.”

  He sifted through Maddox’s suggestions. Rosabel’s dad’s disease—he couldn’t do anything about that. But he could offer something else. “I can give her money,” Duncan said, “if that’s what she needs.”

  There was a pause. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Sure.” Duncan grew increasingly certain by the minute. “Money. Security. If that’s what she wants, I can do that. I’ll offer her a raise if she comes back.”

  “I’m not sure that’s …”

  “Thanks, man. I’m glad we talked this out.”

  “Dunc, wait—”

  “See ya.”

  Duncan hung up, bursting with renewed energy. It was about time Maddox pitched in with a good idea or two, seeing how Duncan had given him several over the years. He hadn’t been kidding; it’d been thanks to Duncan that Maddox had met his wife, Adelie. Maddox owned the Wonderland theme park, and the place had needed some major repairs and a new logo. Not six months ago, Duncan had convinced Maddox that Adelie would be perfect as Alice, and now she was perfectly more than that.

  Rosabel could be perfect for Duncan too. He just had to make her see it.

  4

  After helping Dad bathe and dress, Rosabel waited until Sarah arrived before donning her favorite professional attire—her lavender blouse with pin-striped skirt—and heading into the city. Westville wasn’t huge by industry standards, but plenty of work could be found if a person knew where to look for it. She decided to stop by New England Staffing and see what they could offer her—hopefully something in the editing arena.

  Hours later, after a few unsuccessful interviews, she returned home, downtrodden and discouraged. When she pulled into the driveway, Sarah’s gray Dodge wasn’t the only car parked on the street in front of her house.

  Rosabel froze. She was tempted to veer past, cruise through the neighborhood for a handful of minutes, and see if Duncan’s red Corvette was gone by the time she got back, but something told her that wouldn’t happen. He was nothing if not persistent, and if he wanted to talk to her, it would happen sooner or later.

  But why had he come to her house? He’d never bothered to before, not the night she’d managed to pry him drunk from a night club after his latest flame had broken up with him, or the time a
nother woman had ended things and he’d gone on a shopping rampage, insisting on buying Rosabel everything she’d wanted from the department store. When she hadn’t picked anything and demanded he take her home instead, he’d only dropped her off at the office. She’d had to arrange for her own transportation.

  Did he notice what a pattern he had with women? She’d only worked for him for a year and a half, and in that short time she couldn’t count the number of botched relationships the man had had. Generally, in instances like this where an outcome continued to repeat itself, looking at the common factors in the equations helped. There’d been businesswomen and farmer’s daughters, sports addicts and divas. No two women had anything alike except for one thing—Duncan.

  How could he not see he was the root of every ruined relationship? She was surprised his family wanted him to come home at all.

  Rosabel winced and backtracked, regretting the thought. Of course, his family probably saw another side of him no one else did. But at this point, Rosabel doubted there was anything more to him than shallow, entitled greed.

  At the sight of her car in the driveway, Duncan exited his gleaming red Corvette and stood on the corner. He knew how to dress the part; that was for sure. He was burning concrete in a pair of Armani slacks and a fitted polka-dot button-up shirt, with the dots too tiny to be noticeable unless you looked up close.

  With his hand on his hip and sunglasses perched on his nose, he analyzed her. His beguiling appearance was enough to ratchet her pulse. Too bad the contents didn’t exceed the luster of the wrapping.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling her heels sink into the grass. Curse it. She ripped them from her feet. The lack took her down a few inches, and she suddenly wished she was taller.

  Duncan peered at her through his designer sunglasses. “I came to offer you a job.”

  “Ha.” The laugh barked from her chest of its own accord. Rosabel didn’t bother trying to remedy it. “Why would I ever want to work for you again?”

  “She couldn’t make my coffee.”

  Her brows drew together. “Who couldn’t make your coffee?”

  He glanced to the street, attempting to appear unperturbed. “Theresa. Tabitha. Tammy. T-something. Whatever her name was, she quit after a single day.”

  Rosabel exhaled. So much for this being a brief conversation. She considered roasting him for his level of pickiness or pointing out just how needy this man was. He’d grilled the new girl over coffee. “Sounds like a smart girl.”

  “Come on, Rosabel.”

  She shook her head. “I need to check on my father. Thanks for stopping by.” Rosabel turned, grateful to walk away from him twice now.

  “You’re missing out.”

  The threat tapped her on the shoulder and tingled her spine all at once. Her defensive side that typically only flared up during an intense discussion of literature spiraled, but she ignored it. She couldn’t give in. She knew exactly where this conversation would lead. The thought was exhausting. She was tired of being such a predictable person and had let him sway her too many times. This would not be one of them.

  “Goodbye, Duncan,” she said, approaching the porch. Her stocking feet were wet from the afternoon grass, and she left footprints on the sidewalk.

  “I’ll give you a raise.”

  Rosabel hesitated mid-step, one foot lifted. Lowering her foot to the ground, she gripped the iron railing. The idea was too tempting, if only to have the money to deal with the bills on the table. She turned her head, just enough to catch him in her periphery.

  “A good one,” he added. His feet shuffled on the grass behind her. He moved closer, but she refused to meet his eye, and kept her focus on the porch swing.

  “How good?”

  “Noticeably.”

  He was behind her now. She swore she felt his breath on the back of her neck. All the more reason not to turn around. Being that close to him never boded well.

  “Turn around, Rosabel. Let’s talk about this.”

  Fine. If he wanted her to face him, she’d do it. She climbed a single step, making sure to not only have height over him, but also distance. Folding her arms, Rosabel hoped to ensure he couldn’t stand any closer to her than she was comfortable with. “Mr. Hawthorne,” she began. Curse the smile that started ticking at the corner of her mouth. Why did he have that effect on her when she knew what a scoundrel he was? “I can’t be bought. The truth is, my dad needs me here. I can’t afford to pay for his in-home care, nor can I keep working when I need to be here to watch him. He needs me. You don’t.”

  Duncan mirrored her and folded his arms. “I’ll pay for it.”

  “You—what?”

  “Look, I’m headed out to Arkansas tomorrow, and I can’t go alone, or I’ll never hear the end of it from my mother. You need to come with me, so they believe …”

  She inclined her brows in an act of disbelief. “Believe what? You said she thinks we’re dating. Are you saying you want me to go there as a girlfriend? Because I’m not. I’m your assistant.”

  He climbed a step, and she retreated toward the door. “It’s been three years since I’ve seen any of them, and I want to make the best new impression that I can. I don’t want them to see my bachelor status as a failure.”

  She guffawed. Of course, this didn’t have a speck to do with helping her or her father. This was about him. It was always about him.

  He went on. “I’m buying this incredible lake house. You can hang out there, hide away and read or whatever it is you do—”

  He noticed she liked reading? She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended.

  “You won’t have to make nice with the family until my grandmother’s birthday.”

  He called his grandma grandmother? That seemed way too formal, even for someone like him. “Your grandmother?”

  “At this point, thanks to my mother, she probably thinks you’re my girlfriend.”

  “Then she needs to be set straight.”

  “I completely agree.”

  “You—what?”

  He smirked and rifled something from his pocket. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of fiancée.”

  Rosabel held out her hands. “Not a chance. Do you hear yourself?”

  “Come on, Rosabel. I wasn’t kidding that she won’t be around much longer. She’s ninety-five.”

  “That’s yesterday’s eighty these days.”

  “Yes, but she’s already had a stroke. It’s her wish to see me happily settled down or something. Assuming she speaks to me while we’re there.”

  Rosabel gaped. Whether he was being truthful now or not, she wasn’t ready to dive into whatever that meant. No need to get him off on another tangent before they’d resolved this one.

  Was he in the middle of a squabble with his grandma? Such a thing sounded almost laughable. She guided him back to the topic at hand, making a mental note to ask him what he’d meant about the disagreement between him and his family later. “Did you ever consider actually happily settling down with someone you care about?”

  “When have I ever met anyone like that?” His tone was too clipped, and she could tell he knew it. Still, he gritted his jaw and didn’t take the sentiment back.

  For some reason, the statement soothed her. Her back was up any time he mentioned having an interest in her. Someone as controlling and manipulative as he was would never make a good boyfriend or husband. She already knew that fact—she wasn’t about to learn the hard way.

  “I’ll cover all your dad’s medical bills,” he said. “We’ll get him in a facility, somewhere reliable where he can be comfortable and well looked after. Or we’ll hire care to stay here with him at all hours if need be. It’s all done, no worries. No strings.”

  Her brows leapt. “No strings?”

  “Well, just one. Come to Arkansas with me. Wear a ring, pretend you like me. Get through my grandmother’s birthday party, and then you can come back and make my coffee every day like
you do.”

  Rosabel rolled her eyes. “I’m not coming back just to make your coffee.”

  “Whatever,” he said. “You know what I mean.”

  She fought the second eye roll. The offer was tempting, only so far as having Dad cared for so she could see to his expenses and needs. In no way did Duncan appeal to her otherwise, not with his hazel eyes or the swoosh of hair above his forehead or the way his confident manner sparked her blood in spite of herself.

  She thought of Havisham Assisted Living, the care center she’d been looking into for Dad. Of not having to worry if Sarah had fallen asleep or lost track of Dad again. She thought of the time she would have in Arkansas to research freelancing, start an online group to find clientele, or even set up a website. The bills. The worries. This could be the answer she needed to get her feet on the ground.

  But she refused to agree to anything unless Duncan made a few changes first. “I will consider your offer, Mr. Hawthorne,” she said.

  “I—what?”

  He’d thought she would give in right away? Huh. Maybe having him be the one to accept a few demands was the way to go. Let him know what disappointment felt like.

  “And I’ll get back to you this evening. Tomorrow at the latest.” She made for the door.

  “Our flight leaves tomorrow morning,” he said from behind her, as though she agreed.

  Rosabel lifted a finger and spoke over her shoulder. “Correction. Your flight leaves tomorrow. Whether or not I’m also on it is yet to be decided.”

  Duncan’s voice rose in pitch. “Come on, what’s it going to take? You want flowers? A new wardrobe?”

  She lowered her head and shook it. He really was clueless. Deliberately, Rosabel rotated to face him once more. Confusion wrinkled his brow, and she almost pitied his lost expression. Almost. “What I want is time to think things over. This isn’t just a job you’re offering me, and after working with you in the past, I’m not sure accepting would be all that smart. So I’m going to think, and I’m going to make up my own list of demands. Goodbye, Duncan.”