Wife Wanted (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)(61)

 

“Hell of a storm out there,” Ben said lightly.

 

“Yeah, hell of a storm.”

 

Riley stared harder at the whiskey and saw a glimpse of Phoebe’s green eyes, so full of pain as he’d yelled at her. Regret maybe? And guilt, just a glimmer of it, but he’d seen it. He hadn’t wanted to yell. He was going to just ask her, flat out, why she lied, but he’d let his emotions get the better of him, and instead, he’d treated her no better than if Yancey had been standing in front of him.

 

“Riley? Maybe you’ve had enough to drink,” his friend said as he reached for the bottle.

 

But Riley gripped it tighter. “Either get a damn glass and drink with me or get the hell out.”

 

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea. You have that meeting tomorrow.”

 

“Ben, as my friend, I’m telling you to either drink or get out. I don’t care about tomorrow. Not anymore.” He heard his friend get up and make a call in the kitchen, probably to Linda. A sharp pang ran through his chest. He’d once had what Ben and Linda had with Meredith. And for a few brief days, he’d thought he’d found a spark of that feeling again with Phoebe. Just to have it all blow up in his face. He’d desperately wanted that again, to be needed, to be wanted by someone, and not because he was rich.

 

Phoebe had done that. Or at least acted the part.

 

But then she’d run off with Mitch Harper, hitman for the rich CEOs of the city.

 

He shot back the whiskey again and started to pour another glass when Ben set his down on the table. “Linda says if you’re hungover tomorrow, she’s not covering your sorry ass.”

 

“I think I’m allowed a bit of leniency here.”

 

“She’s under the impression that you yelled at the poor girl.”

 

Riley didn’t reply. He figured Linda would understand why he was in such a rotten mood. He was a nice guy, rarely lost his temper, yet here he was, drowning his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey because of how he’d acted. His grandfather would’ve smacked him upside the head if he was alive. Riley rubbed the side of his head, as if he could feel that smack already.

 

“She yelled back,” he said weakly.

 

“Really? That’s your reply? Damn Riley, what—are you ten?”

 

“She stole from me, Ben, lied about who she was.”

 

“Yeah, well, maybe she had good reason.”

 

Riley stared at him through drunken, narrowed eyes. “What are you doing? Defending her?”

 

“I’m just saying, even though we found out all that stuff about her, the few times we met, I never got that evil corporate spy vibe.”

 

“So she’s a damn good actress.”

 

“Or parts of her story were true,” Ben started to say, but Riley threw a pillow from the couch at him. “Fine, believe what you want. Just pass the damn bottle. I won’t let you be hungover by yourself tomorrow. That’d just be an embarrassment.”

 

Too bad that was what Riley was going to be facing in the days to come. With Phoebe out of the picture, he was back to square one on the marriage issue and his time was running out. A month and two weeks left. He guessed he’d be back on that damn website tomorrow, trying to find a woman who didn’t laugh like a damned hyena or try to maul him to death. He slid a glance at Ben. Maybe a fake gay marriage would count? But nah, Ben would never go for that, and he was pretty sure Linda would kill him if he even mentioned the idea.

 

Sometime around midnight, Ben passed out, snoring in the chair, empty glass hanging from his hand. Riley was right behind him. He thought the liquor would’ve quelled his dreams. Instead, all he saw were Phoebe’s green eyes filled with heartbreak as she’d run out of his place and into the driving rain, getting into the car with a man who had red eyes and horns.

 

An alarm shrieked somewhere in the penthouse, and Riley rolled off the couch, smacking his head on the floor, his arm catching on the coffee table. “Shit…Ben… Ben, wake up, damn it!”

 

“Huh? Wha…what time is it?”

 

“We’re late, that’s what time it is.” He groaned as he got up, holding his head.

 

It was almost nine o’clock. The meeting with his client was at nine thirty. He really hoped Linda had been kidding about not covering his ass today because he was going to need a miracle to save this new business deal. Otherwise, he’d watch them walk out the door and straight into Yancey’s pocket.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 21