Billionaire's Tragedy (Standalone Book) (Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) by Alexa Davis Page B
Authors: Alexa Davis
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because they're all in support of his
technology and his company, so he does things to show his appreciation without
crossing any lines."
"Crossing
lines?"
"Yeah, like giving
them money and stuff," she said as she tried to school me in the ways of
the Washington power brokers. "You can't pay senators to do things, but
you can show your appreciation for their support. I guess flowers are a good
way to do that, you know?"
"Sure, I mean, if I
supported a guy's business, I can't think of anything I'd rather have than a
huge arrangement of lilies and ferns," I said sarcastically. "He must
have a lot of free time if he's hanging out here all day sending flowers to
people."
"Nah, he usually comes in really late at
night, not in the morning," she said as she twirled a strand of ivy
between her fingers. "I don't usually get to wait on him. It was weird to
see him here during the day, but he's so hot that I don't complain when he
comes in!"
"No, I imagine that
men as good looking as Lincoln Redding are a pleasure to see at any time of the
day," I muttered then turned toward her. "So, you're saying you wouldn't
kick him out of bed?"
She burst out laughing
just as a customer walked through the door. "Gotta go help them." She
swallowed a bubble of laughter and walked over, saying, "What can I help
with today, sir?"
I nodded and took one
last look at the cards on the arrangements before I stepped back and walked out
of the shop. I didn't want to push my luck and have her figure out I was a
reporter digging for information. The girl waved at me as I exited and I waved
back, wondering if I could have gotten more information out of her if I'd
stayed and waited. I made a note to go back and follow up later in the week.
Meanwhile, I pulled out
my notebook and jotted down a few notes before shoving the pad back in my bag and
heading away from the Hill.
#
I quickly walked a few blocks south to my best friend Bix's house over on the
corner of Ivy and New Jersey. I replayed the collision and resulting
conversation over and over in my brain, trying to figure out what had happened.
Linc Redding was undeniably handsome and I was undeniably attracted to him. His
body, his arms, the curve of his lip when he smiled, and those eyes – oh my
God, those beautiful, blue eyes. For a moment, I felt myself getting a little
lightheaded as I imagined what it would be like to be laying naked in bed with
him, looking into those eyes as he bent down to kiss me. I was grateful when I
found myself at Bix's front door and had a reason to stop thinking about Linc.
Bix Northrup had been my best friend since the
first day of fourth grade when we had been assigned to sit together. It was my
fifth school in as many years since my father was a diplomat whose job moved us
around the world on a regular basis, and I was somewhat weary of having to adjust
to another new group of people. Because of all the moving, I was a little more
cosmopolitan than some of my classmates and as a result, I'd wait to decide how
smart I thought they were before I made friends with any of them. It was a
defensive strategy that had served me well.
The morning I joined
Bix's fourth grade class, the teacher had assigned us a desk on the side of the
room closest to the windows, and I'd been staring out them wishing I could
transform into a cardinal and spend the day hunting for seeds and bugs when a
girl sat down next to me.
"Hello," I said,
staring at her. She was a small girl with hair so blonde that it looked white.
She was wearing a sky blue dress, knee high socks with tennis shoes, and a pair
of enormous round glasses. I'd never seen glasses that big on any adult, let
alone a girl as small as she was, and with her hair pulled into two tight
French braids on either side of her head, the glasses looked even bigger. I
couldn't stop staring as she held out her hand.
"Hello, I'm
Elizabeth Margaret Wentworth-Trent," she said solemnly. "But you can
call me Bix."
"Why?" I
technology and his company, so he does things to show his appreciation without
crossing any lines."
"Crossing
lines?"
"Yeah, like giving
them money and stuff," she said as she tried to school me in the ways of
the Washington power brokers. "You can't pay senators to do things, but
you can show your appreciation for their support. I guess flowers are a good
way to do that, you know?"
"Sure, I mean, if I
supported a guy's business, I can't think of anything I'd rather have than a
huge arrangement of lilies and ferns," I said sarcastically. "He must
have a lot of free time if he's hanging out here all day sending flowers to
people."
"Nah, he usually comes in really late at
night, not in the morning," she said as she twirled a strand of ivy
between her fingers. "I don't usually get to wait on him. It was weird to
see him here during the day, but he's so hot that I don't complain when he
comes in!"
"No, I imagine that
men as good looking as Lincoln Redding are a pleasure to see at any time of the
day," I muttered then turned toward her. "So, you're saying you wouldn't
kick him out of bed?"
She burst out laughing
just as a customer walked through the door. "Gotta go help them." She
swallowed a bubble of laughter and walked over, saying, "What can I help
with today, sir?"
I nodded and took one
last look at the cards on the arrangements before I stepped back and walked out
of the shop. I didn't want to push my luck and have her figure out I was a
reporter digging for information. The girl waved at me as I exited and I waved
back, wondering if I could have gotten more information out of her if I'd
stayed and waited. I made a note to go back and follow up later in the week.
Meanwhile, I pulled out
my notebook and jotted down a few notes before shoving the pad back in my bag and
heading away from the Hill.
#
I quickly walked a few blocks south to my best friend Bix's house over on the
corner of Ivy and New Jersey. I replayed the collision and resulting
conversation over and over in my brain, trying to figure out what had happened.
Linc Redding was undeniably handsome and I was undeniably attracted to him. His
body, his arms, the curve of his lip when he smiled, and those eyes – oh my
God, those beautiful, blue eyes. For a moment, I felt myself getting a little
lightheaded as I imagined what it would be like to be laying naked in bed with
him, looking into those eyes as he bent down to kiss me. I was grateful when I
found myself at Bix's front door and had a reason to stop thinking about Linc.
Bix Northrup had been my best friend since the
first day of fourth grade when we had been assigned to sit together. It was my
fifth school in as many years since my father was a diplomat whose job moved us
around the world on a regular basis, and I was somewhat weary of having to adjust
to another new group of people. Because of all the moving, I was a little more
cosmopolitan than some of my classmates and as a result, I'd wait to decide how
smart I thought they were before I made friends with any of them. It was a
defensive strategy that had served me well.
The morning I joined
Bix's fourth grade class, the teacher had assigned us a desk on the side of the
room closest to the windows, and I'd been staring out them wishing I could
transform into a cardinal and spend the day hunting for seeds and bugs when a
girl sat down next to me.
"Hello," I said,
staring at her. She was a small girl with hair so blonde that it looked white.
She was wearing a sky blue dress, knee high socks with tennis shoes, and a pair
of enormous round glasses. I'd never seen glasses that big on any adult, let
alone a girl as small as she was, and with her hair pulled into two tight
French braids on either side of her head, the glasses looked even bigger. I
couldn't stop staring as she held out her hand.
"Hello, I'm
Elizabeth Margaret Wentworth-Trent," she said solemnly. "But you can
call me Bix."
"Why?" I
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