The Billionaire Bad Boys Club(58)

“You’re a dirty man,” she returned querulously. “You and my nephew both.”

This did bring heat into his face, though he fought it down. “That’s enough,” he said, striding in and taking her by the arm.

She was seventy if she was a day. She couldn’t hope to resist his strength. She fought though, going so far as to cling to edge of Trey’s desk. “I need to be here,” she cried. “I have a right to speak to my own nephew!”

Zane wasn’t in the mood for this. As carefully as he could, he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her off her orthopedic shoes.

“Zane!” Missy said, shocked at him. “She’s a little old lady.”

“Get the elevator,” he ordered.

He must have sounded stern enough. Missy ran ahead to press the button.

“You’re dirty too,” Trey’s aunt said to her, devaluing whatever stock she’d earned with the model.

Thankfully, the elevator came quickly. Missy squished herself into a corner to accompany him to the ground floor. This was due to Trey’s aunt having decided her best strategy was to spend the journey kicking his shins like a two-year-old. She repeated her claim that Trey ought to talk to her, adding that her father was worth ten of them. Zane couldn’t tell if she had dementia or was just crazy. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he cared.#p#分页标题#e#

The security team rushed over the minute they exited, wide eyed and apologetic and seemingly wondering if they ought to pull their guns.

Zane handed his thrashing burden over to two of them. “Find out where she’s staying. Get her there safely and make sure she doesn’t gain entrance here again. If I hear she’s gotten ten feet into this lobby, all of you are fired.”

The guards assured him they’d take care of it.

“Sorry,” he said to Missy, vibrating with tiny tremors as Trey’s relative was carried out of sight. He was so angry for his friend’s sake that his heart thumped wildly. Trey was too good a person to have to deal with this.

“That’s okay,” Missy said, a little shaken herself. “You know what they say about family. Can’t live with them. Can’t make them go away.”

He laughed at her joke, hugging her with genuine gratitude. “I’ll make this up to you,” he promised.

Liking that, Missy smiled coyly at him from under her fake lashes.

~

Somehow Rebecca made it to Sunday night without imploding, no easy task after she’d ordered her crew to relax over the weekend. She’d heard through the line cook grapevine that Neil Montana—the jackass whose hiring had driven her out of Wilde’s—was predicting an epic fail for The Bad Boys Lounge. As celebrities went, he was a nonentity, destined to be forgotten as soon as Monster Chef’s next winner was announced. For the moment, he had a soapbox, and some people would enjoy hanging on his words.

To anyone who’d listen, he dubbed the Lounge “Beantown Boredom”—his idea of scathing wit.

Rebecca longed to call Trey and sound off but restrained herself. Venting equaled bonding, and she and Trey didn’t need any more of that. So what if he’d have settled her in two minutes? He wasn’t responsible for her mental state.

Too keyed up to sleep and hoping to blank her thoughts, Rebecca switched on the TV in the living room. A gossip show was on. What was Miley up to? Who were the latest Kardashian love interests? Soothed by the inanity, Rebecca was debating which of her new outfits she’d wear tomorrow when a familiar face appeared onscreen.

She slid forward on the couch so fast she almost fell off.

She couldn’t tell if the footage was live or taped; she hadn’t been paying enough attention. Whenever it had been filmed, the piece showed Zane Alexander emerging from a French nightclub, looking like expensive sex incarnate in a royal blue shirt and black trousers. A woman hung on his arm laughing. She was nearly as tall as him and drop-dead stunning. Rebecca recognized her as a famous swimsuit model. Mystique, she thought was called. Though Rebecca thought Zane was more intriguing, the video paparazzi were there for the brunette.

“Did you enjoy the band?” one reporter called to her, sticking out his microphone.

“How could I not,” she cooed, “with a fine man like this to keep me company?” She hugged Zane’s arm, and he smiled down at her.

Face and chest flaming with embarrassment, Rebecca seized the remote and snapped the TV off.

Boy, Zane hadn’t taken long to get over her dumping him—if dumping was the right term. And so much for what they had being more than a hookup!

She lobbed three couch pillows in swift succession against the wall. The final was aimed so wildly her framed poster of a Parisian boulangerie fell down. Didn’t people say Paris was for lovers? How nice for Zane to be there with his!