Page 18 of Billionaire Devil

Class A? Maybach? Ducati? Is he speaking English? My tequila-sodden brain is struggling. “Honestly…this is a terrible idea. We don’t even know each other?—”

“Sorry, beautiful, but it’s a done deal. We shook on it. The RV is ready. Our itinerary is locked in. And you’ve got a wedding to get to and some asshole named Troy to seduce.So let’s go. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten. These good to go?” He gestures to my two open suitcases.

All I can do is stare at him, speechless.

Taking that as a yes, Colton bends down and zips up both suitcases—not without effort since they’re so stuffed. Then he lifts them and heads back through the still-open door and down the stairs, lugging the behemoths like they weigh ten pounds each instead of more like sixty.

“Um…”

But he’s already gone.

What in the actual hell is happening right now?

I go to the window and peer out, expecting a dilapidated Winnebago, like the ones you see midwestern families driving through Yosemite. But the vehicle parked outside does not look like an RV at all. It looks like a shiny, gleaming, luxury rockstar tour bus.

Whoa.

How did he manage to organize this since late last night?

Then again, he’s a billionaire. I guess they can organize things faster than normal people do, maybe.

My head spins in protest and I grip onto the window ledge. I take some deep breaths, trying not to inhale the remnants of Colton’s unfairly delicious cologne.

My forlorn little Toyota is in the actual shade of the colossal RV, looking almost relieved. If I leave my car behind, then I’ll have to come back for it. Or I could sell it—not that it’s worth anything. Maybe Sloane could take it and drop it off at a used car dealership for me.

Am I actually considering going with this?I must still be drunk, that’s the only explanation.

I mean, my suitcases are already almost on the bus.

Wow. A whole week with Colton Maddox…in a luxury house on wheels.

I take a sip of coffee and watch him load my suitcases into an open side compartment.

He really is gorgeous. And so…muscly.He must work out a lot.

His phone rings and he answers the call. He gestures with his hand as he talks and I catch some of the conversation through the open window.Because I’m overdue for a break, Cash, that’s fucking why…that’s none of your business…and that’s also none of your business. Consider it a creative week if you must—which I also haven’t had for over six months because I’ve been busy fixing your insider trading shit-show while you gallivanted around fucking Hawaii, remember? Okay…good. You should be.Colton laughs, despite his obvious irritation.Did you actually just say something nice to me, brother? That might be a first.More low laughter.Not if I see you first. Later, asshole.

One of his brothers. Wondering why he’s taking off for a week.

Whyishe taking off for a week?

With me?

And is it totally crazy that a tiny part of me actually wants him to?

Okay, more than a tiny part.

Itiscrazy. But I do in fact need to get to the wedding by next weekend and this luxury bus will clearly be a lot more comfortable than my ancient Toyota. I wasn’t entirely looking forward to the lonely roads and the divey motels along the way where drug dealers and serial killers probably hang out, as Sloane so generously pointed out.

I’m doing it.

To hell with it.

Should I tell Sloane? Probably not a good idea. I know for a fact my phone would be ringing off the hook if she knew Colton was here. I can practically hear her scolding me.Do NOT in a million years go ANYWHERE with my playboy boss! Are you crazy? Yes, he’s hot. Yes, he’s in fact smoking hot, we can all agree on that. But do not befriend him! He is NOT boyfriend or relationship material AT ALL. He’ll totally charm you because it’s what he does and then the minute you think there could be something real there, he’ll be nowhere to be found. It’s always the same. Every freaking weekend I’m fielding irate phone calls and reading the headlines about how some heiress or socialite is broken-hearted, crying to whatever blogger will listen that she wants another night with him. This is a Code Red, Lila. DO NOT get on that bus!!

That’s the thing, though. I am most certainlynotconsidering Colton Maddox as potential boyfriend or relationship material. Of course I’m not. He’s providing a means of transportation, that’s all. I’m not entirely sure why, but that detail is irrelevant right now.

What about the seduction lessons?

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