The Playboy's Ménage (The Billionaire Bachelors Series) by RG Alexander

Said she was bad news, already on her third husband and looking to upgrade to a richer number four. From the implication, she wouldn’t have been above seducing her daughter’s young boyfriend if he fit the bill and she got a tiara out of it.” He took a breath, shaking his head. “After Holly left, I found out about the scandal that happened the day she showed up at our place. I guess her stepfather found her mother in bed with his married golfing buddy. There was a fight and the police were called. Everyone knew.”
    Peter ran a hand through his hair and tugged, feeling a headache coming on. “Bullshit. How did I not know this?”
    Henry winced. “Because I didn’t tell you. I thought if she hadn’t said anything, had never mentioned her mother once since we started seeing her, it probably wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.” He shrugged. “I can’t say that I blame her—you know how much flak she took at our school from those rich sorority bitches. Can you imagine how they would have reacted after finding out her mother was a bona fide gold digger?”
    Had Holly thought Peter or Henry would judge her because of her mother’s obvious ambitions? Had she made an assumption based on the kind of money they came from instead of who they were?
    I was just being selfish. Greedy. I think it’s genetic.
    Her words came back to slap him in the face. And the emails—how many times had she mentioned to Henry the relationships she’d cut short because she didn’t want things to get serious? She didn’t want to hurt anyone when “reality” got in the way. Almost exactly what she’d said to Peter that last day.
    Was that the reality she was talking about? Did she think she was anything like her mother? Or was she trying to make sure she wasn’t by limiting her commitments? Hell, even the three-month project rule and her job writing other people’s stories made more sense now.
    She was still running.
    It would be better for all of them if he kept that in mind for the next few months. Holly wasn’t going to stay.
    Peter crossed his arms. “No wonder you’re being so agreeable, Henry. You haven’t kept this many secrets from me since we were five and you thought you were a magician. Is there any- fucking -thing else, Henry? Anything you didn’t tell me that I should know about Holly?”
    Henry’s eyes shifted and Peter swore. “I’ll be damned.”
    “It’s a suspicion,” his friend insisted. “Nothing concrete or anything.”
    “Tell me.”
    Henry shook his head. “If I do, you’ll be pissed and this will be over before she gets here. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. Nobody wants that, man.”
    “Tell me anyway.” He braced himself.
    Henry looked down at his boots. “I think she might be Ms. Anonymous.”
    “What?” Peter shook his head adamantly, shock reverberating through his body at Henry’s accusation. “That’s insane. What would make you— No way.”
    Henry scratched his beard, his expression regretful. “You can see why I didn’t mention it. But it adds up. She’s a writer in communication with some fairly high rollers in Hollywood who’ve recruited her for her services. She has the connections. I looked into her professional bio. I know she wrote that book where Dean’s lack of after-sex cuddling takes up an entire chapter. You remember that one. I know because you sent us all a copy for Christmas to get under his skin.” Peter’s head felt like it was going to explode. Henry saw his expression and took a step toward him. “On the other hand, how much harm has Ms. Anonymous actually done, other than irritating Dean? Tracy’s the Teflon Cowboy and God knows you and I never gave a shit about being in the news. Sure, you don’t want to believe the woman you’re about to fuck five ways from Sunday thinks you’re a lewd, heartbreaking playboy with a penchant for public indecency…but other than that, would it really matter?”
    He refused to believe it.