Page 15 of Falling for Raine

Oddly, that scenario made perfect sense.

You see, in addition to Julia, I was currently traveling with a small team of solicitors and executives dedicated to closing the Blowhard deal—a.k.a. acquiring Mint and Cooperton Financial, run by the thoroughly detestable Gilbert Blower. The man was unscrupulous, unethical, and loved the sound of his own voice.

He was also desperate, and I fucking loved it.

Poor management and terrible investments had put a stake in the heart of what had once been a well-respected institution.In my opinion, Blower was guilty of criminal neglect and greed, and I couldn’t wait to oust him from power. However, my firm wasn’t the only party interested in acquiring Mint and Cooperton.

The venerable name alone still carried weight and prestige in international financial circles, which added unfortunate drama to what might have otherwise been a routine transaction. But no…the corporate courting ritual of wooing via pretty spreadsheets and expensive dinners had been underway for months. Thankfully, we were finally nearing the end.

The sooner the better. The stress was beginning to eat at a few key members of my team. Gallons of caffeine had been consumed and countless antacids had been popped on this flight alone as we caught up with the recent offer our competitor had clouded our deal with in our absence. We couldn’t afford to land in London unprepared.

Honestly, I’d have preferred to postpone the trip to Las Vegas, but there was no point. No matter how rock solid our position was, nothing moved quickly at this juncture of an acquisition. It was a game of chess with wily adversaries, and it was the part I enjoyed the most. But the negotiation phase might muddle on for two months or more before this was over and done, so it was wise to attend to other business too. Like Vegas.

The Horsham Group was a UK-based firm, but we had assets all over the world, including Sin City. We owned percentages in a handful of high-end restaurants, a state-of-the-art sports arena, and a casino or two. A hiring boom had been the excuse to hold a Meet and Greet to welcome our new team members. No doubt the event had been pegged as the main reason I’d made the trip across the pond, but it was one of many meetings, dinners, and speeches in yet another whirlwind business trip.

It was exhausting, but on the bright side, I enjoyed Las Vegas. As I’d mentioned to my companion last night, I knew the city well and?—

Bloody hell…and now I was thinking about Raine.

Again.

I didn’t understand why I couldn’t let it go. It was just sex. Great sex, but still…mooning over a stranger was the sort of thing adolescents did—not grown men nearing fifty. Yet I regretted pushing him away so quickly. I should have ordered dinner, instigated round two, and maybe even…given him my number in case he needed anything in London or?—

Whoa.And that right there was a sign I’d officially lost a marble or two. I wasn’t one for regrets, and it had never crossed my mind to give my number to a one-night stand—because then it wouldn’t be a one-night stand, would it?

But right this very moment, I’d have given anything for a repeat.

I leaned back and raised the window shade, peering out at the sun-tinted clouds turning the sky into a fireball over the Atlantic Ocean as I let my mind wander to Raine. His bright eyes, infectious smile, and naïveté were an interesting contrast to his casual sensuality.

Perhaps he’d had his share of setbacks, but he wasn’t jaded or hard. If anything, he was too sweet, too trusting, too good-natured. I didn’t understand people who hoped life’s inconveniences worked themselves out. Hope was not a strategy. It was a sentiment best saved for greeting cards. I hope you feel better, I hope you have a nice birthday, I hope you enjoy your holiday…that sort of nonsense.

The only way to create real change was through blood, sweat, and tears…and a measure of manipulation. Look, it might seem ruthless, but in order to win, one had to identify and at times, exploit weaknesses. That was how business worked in the realworld. If I “hoped” Blower would accept my generous offer to acquire his company, I’d be sorely disappointed. And I didn’t do well with disappointment.

I preferred knowing I had a shot at success. Which was probably what drew me to places like Bull Rider. Dark corners, strong booze, and like-minded men who didn’t expect or want more than idle conversation and sex.

The last time I’d been at that same bar in Vegas, I’d met a cowboy dressed in black, perched on a stool with his legs spread wide. He’d talked about his truck as he guzzled beer and scratched his ample stomach. He was boring and vaguely repulsive, but I hadn’t hesitated when he offered to show me said truck. Five minutes later, he’d been on his knees, his hat tipped back as he sucked me like a Hoover, then begged me to fuck him.

The whole encounter had taken less than an hour and other than the hat and his giant belt buckle, it wasn’t particularly memorable. But that was all I’d needed. Or maybe, it was all I’d allowed myself.

Until last night.

Until Raine.

My eyelids drifted as snapshots came to me like fractured shards in a kaleidoscope. Raine’s soft moans, his parted bee-stung lips, the needy sound he made as I slipped my finger into his hole and?—

“We’re landing, sir.”

I jolted awake, nodding brusquely before closing my laptop and giving myself a stern warning to cease and desist fanciful mind trips involving the American. It was a waste of time and brain cells better served thinking about how to secure the M and C deal.

Thirty minutes later, I balanced my umbrella in one hand and pulled my carry-on behind me, making a dash across the tarmac to the black Range Rover waiting nearby. A secondvehicle idled behind mine to transport my team to the parking garage where they’d rescue their own cars and head home.

My SUV was the largest; however, I rarely shared. Collins was the exception. His role as driver-slash-bodyguard made that a necessity. But no one else, unless their presence was required. It wasn’t that I was an arsehole—though depending upon whom you asked, that was up for debate—but rather because my SUV was basically an office on wheels. I needed privacy to take important calls at a moment’s notice. There was no such thing as waiting for a more convenient time. Every second mattered.

So yes, I was surprised when Julia pulled at the sleeve of my Savile Row suit coat and requested to join me.

I held my umbrella over her head and regarded her for a beat. The circles under her eyes were more pronounced than earlier, her makeup had smeared or faded, and as she hadn’t bothered with a coat or hat, she was positively soaked. The long flight and arduous schedule could probably be blamed, but there was something else going on. She seemed upset or ill or…worried.

“Of course. Come along.” I ushered her to the Range Rover and greeted my backup driver, who opened our doors and dealt with our luggage while we settled into the rich leather interior. I raised the privacy screen, then shrugged off my suit coat, shifting slightly to face her. “What’s wrong, Julia?”