Page 8 of Impulse (Infinitus Billionaire #1)

Lex took her upstairs to a gigantic gray and black bedroom with an equally huge custom-made bed, and led her into the bathroom.

“There are robes and towels in the closet to your right. I’ll be right back,”

he said, sounding calm even though his icy gray eyes were almost silver in their intensity.

Jillian hoped he threw Margo out on her skinny butt. The bitch deserved to be knocked down a peg or two for humiliating her.

“Lex,”

Jillian said just as he reached for the doorknob. He stopped and glanced at her.

“She’s not worth it.”

“Her behavior was unconscionable and—”

“That of a spoiled celebrity,”

Jillian finished.

“She’s a product of her industry, and dealing with her is totally beneath you.”

He smiled, but the steely eyes didn’t change.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea how low I can sink to protect those under my care.”

Cute, but so not going to work for me.

“I don’t recall asking you to be my protector, Alexander.”

He turned and sauntered back to her, eyes thawing as he got closer.

“I have to work with her, Lex, and she’s more important to this movie than I am.”

“Then quit.”

She bristled.

“I signed a contract. That means something to me.”

He hesitated as though debating his next move.

“Okay. I’ll smile and be polite, but first thing tomorrow morning, I’m adding a clause in her contract that prohibits her from attacking you.”

Jillian cocked her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Or any other actress,”

he added, clearly indicating he didn’t care what Margo did to anyone else, except Jillian. He stopped in front of her, reached out, and cupped her cheek.

“Can you really do that?”

The smile he gave her said he could do just about anything.

“Then make it more general. You know, no misbehaving in public.”

“You’re freezing and should be changing instead of worrying about her.”

He leaned in and captured her lips in a scorching kiss, until warmth replaced the cold that had crept under her skin. She pressed closer to his warmth, but he broke the kiss and whispered.

“You didn’t have to ask me to be your protector, Jillian. I took up the challenge the moment you smiled at me across that parking lot at Ferris in your clown makeup and the ugliest wig I’ve ever seen.”

Jillian sputtered in indignation, which earned her a grin from Lex and another silencing kiss. Then he was striding toward the door.

“Get rid of those wet clothes, sweetheart. I’ll get you something to wear.”

“I’m not your sweetheart, and I did not look like a clown,”

Jillian yelled at his retreating back.

“An adorable clown,”

he called over his shoulder and opened the door. He glanced at her and added.

“Inside that bristly, tough exterior is a total sweetheart, and I’m going to enjoy knowing her.”

Jillian opened her mouth to protest, but he was already gone, the door closing behind him. She didn’t have a tough exterior, an.

“adorable clown”

was even more insulting. It brought to mind kittens playing with balls of yarn, or cooing babies. Both were distractions, but easily forgotten. Was that how he saw her? A temporary source of entertainment? Just when had he decided she was the perfect material for a fake wife if she’d looked comical?

She couldn’t figure Lex out. She’d grown up surrounded by men and knew how easy it was to please them. Feed them, stroke their egos. Give them a remote and a six-pack, and you had them eating out of the palm of your hand. She just had to end up with one so complicated he drove her crazy whenever he opened his mouth. Or closed it on hers.

Sighing, Jillian entered the bathroom and peeled off her wet clothes. Her new dress was ruined. And her silk panties were wet and clung to her skin. She wrapped a towel around them, hoping the towel would absorb most of the water. Now where did he say the robes are?

She found one hanging on a peg, ran a hand down the material, and purred as she shrugged it on. From the familiar masculine scent wrapping around her senses, it was Lex’s. Despite being humiliated beyond measures, she couldn’t ignore the pure luxury of her surroundings.

The bathroom was done in gray marble with blue accents, the sunken tub huge enough to accommodate two people. A mounted TV faced the tub, and the assortment of expensive jars and tubes of—

A knock resounded at the bedroom door, and Jillian jumped.

The knock came again, followed by.

“May I come in, dear?”

Estelle Fitzgerald? Jillian tightened the sash of the robe and left the bathroom. She expected the door to open before she reached it. The room was huge. She swept her wet strands away from her face, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Mrs. Fitzgerald’s smile was apologetic.

“I’m sorry for what happened downstairs, my dear, but Lex tells me you insist the woman be left alone, so I come bearing gifts.”

Jillian tried not to fidget when Mrs. Fitzgerald gave her a once over.

“You and I are about the same size,”

Estelle said.

“And I haven’t worn this since it was dropped off.”

She unzipped the dress bag to reveal a silver dress Jillian recognized from Spring Fashion Week. It was one-of-a-kind, something she could only afford in her dreams. Jillian remembered it because the dress had been a hit with editors and online fashion bloggers, and the designer’s collection was featured in one of the top fashion magazines.

“Try it on,”

Mrs. Fitzgerald urged.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Estelle, please, and if you don’t accept it, I will be very hurt. You were accosted in my home, at my party, and your beautiful dress is ruined. I have way too many of these just sitting in my closet gathering dust.”

Jillian smiled.

“It was editor’s top pick from Falasha’s Spring Collection.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald chuckled.

“Now you know my secret. I hoard beautiful gowns, but Faith’s creation deserves to be noticed. No one will blame you if you choose to stay up here for the rest of the evening. But if you decide to rejoin us…”

She pushed the dress into Jillian’s arms.

“This could show them that a dunk doesn’t break you.”

Jillian knew a challenge when she heard it.

“I think I’ll rejoin the party.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald grinned.

“That’s the spirit. Now about some intimate apparels, the dress doesn’t need a bra, but—”

“I have that covered,”

Jillian said, heat rushing to her face.

“Okay then. I’ll be back to check on you in case in you need anything else.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Jillian hurried to the bathroom. In seconds, she was studying her reflection. The dress hugged her curves in the right places and moved when she did. The designer—Faith, as Mrs. Fitzgerald had called her—was gifted. The best part was the sleeves, which came to her wrists and covered her bruises.

There was not much she could do with her hair except pin it in a bun. She never went anywhere without hairpins. She also always carried a change of clothing whenever she was doing a scene. Rehearsals were a bitch on her regular clothes. Too bad she hadn’t thought of carrying something to the party. Maybe next time.

A knock came just when Jillian finished her makeup. She thought of putting on her panties, but they were still wet and cold. She hid them under her dress in the sink, grabbed her clutch and shoes, and headed for the door.

No one would know she was cruising commando.

Lex stood on the other side of the door. The look in his eyes sent heat shooting straight to her core. She waited for a compliment. Instead, he said.

“I think I’m going to enjoy dressing you up.”

There he goes again, being unpredictable.

“I’m not a doll, and you’re too old to play dress up,” she said.

“Ah, but taking them off is so much fun.”

His voice had gone rough and low, eyelids also low. He stepped forward, invading her personal space, and ran his knuckles down her arms before resting his hands on her hips. He tugged her closer, and she didn’t resist.

“You look stunning. Maybe we should forget about the party and…”

His hands skimmed the fabric, a frown on his face. When he murmured “damn,”

she knew she was busted.

Jillian pretended not to have heard him, took a step back, and slipped on her sandals.

“Are you wearing anything under that dress?”

He sounded outraged, but his expression said he was intrigued.

“Yes, I am,”

she said. Shoes on, she stood and dared him to call her a liar.

“A chainmail with a lock that says keep your hands to yourself.”

He laughed.

“I cannot let you loose on the poor male population—”

“Oh put a cork in it, Alexander,”

Jillian said, wrapping her arm around his.

“No one will know, except you. And you know about the chainmail.”

“I’m going to regret this,”

he mumbled as they headed for the stairs.

“Which part? Having a human doll to dress up, or the fact that she’ll fight you every step of the way?”

“Knowing you’re naked under that dress.”

He pressed a kiss on her temple and said.

“And you won’t fight me. You’re going to love everything Faith designs for you.”

Whoever the designer was, she must be a favorite of the Fitzgeralds. Oh, well, if she was going to be a trophy fake wife, she might as well enjoy the ride, including the sex, which was inevitable. She wasn’t an idiot or a simpering virgin. The chemistry between them was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and the only way to let it run its full course was to meet it head on.

*

The day after the party, the headlines were cringe-worthy.

Trouble at the Set of Terra Frost: Stunt Double Attacks Margo Jenkins

Jealousy and Tantrums: Margo Jenkins Accosted by a Jealous Stunt Double

Delays in Production of Terra Frost: Infighting Between Margo Jenkins and Her Stunt Double

They followed Jillian wherever she went. In stores. At the backlot of the studio. Her coworkers talked of nothing else. Jealous? Someone had taken a wrong turn to the corner of reality and delusion. She could never be jealous of Margo.

Margo had never warmed to her as her stunt double and could barely tolerate breathing the same air now. Jillian wasn’t sure whether it was the way she’d saved the pool incident by pretending they were rehearsing a scene or the way the Art and Entertainment section of the L.A. Times had displayed Jillian and Lex’s picture. Instead of focusing on Margo, the biggest star at the party, the piece had focused on Lex, the reclusive billionaire and his mysterious date. Jillian suspected he had something to do with that. Still, the piece didn’t eclipse the tabloids, and soon someone would connect Lex’s mysterious date to the drowned rat feuding with Margo.

There was no feud, except in Margo’s head. Where the hell had she gotten the idea that Jillian wanted to replace her and had seduced Lex to achieve it?

She didn’t get the entire story from Shay on Saturday, but Margo seemed to know that Jillian had talked to Lex before her skydiving scene at Ferris. Somehow, that meeting had made Margo paranoid. Lex might be close-mouthed about the list of actresses he’d selected for hi.

“pretend wife project,”

but someone at the studio had told Margo that the Fitzgeralds had requested her portfolio. According to Margo, Lex had gone to Perris Valley Skydiving School to see her, but their meeting hadn’t gone well because he’d talked to Jillian first. Whatever Lex had told the actress that day wasn’t Jillian’s doing.

Jillian sighed and raised her arms as the wardrobe assistant finished adjusting her outfit. She wiggled a bit to release the tightness around her chest.

“Is it okay?”

the girl asked.

It was a bit snug, but she’d bear it. In the last three days, she’d heard it all. How she would demand special treatment because she was dating Lex.

“It’s fine.”

She sat and let a makeup artist transform her face, her thoughts drifting to last Saturday.

She would have ignored Margo bad-mouthing her and the whispers from the others had the bitch not gone too far and started lobbing her salvos at Chris. Jillian could put up with a lot of smack from anyone any day, but to imply that Chris would behave unprofessionally toward another man? The conniving bitch! Margo had gone after Chris to hurt her. That much was clear. Refusing to talk privately then pushing her into the pool had been the last straw. One more word from the actress and she’d give the tabloids a few pictures they’d never procure on their own.

How the hell had the tabloids gotten a hold of the pictures? From the angle of the pictures, several people must have had their cell phones out the moment she nose-dived into the water. No one was talking about the nice pictures of the party in the L.A. Times. Yet three days later, everyone was still jabbering on about the ones in the tabloids: the fight, her drowned-rat look, the gloriously radiant Margo glaring at her.

“That’s perfect,”

Chris said, coming to stand beside her.

“Thank you, Rossi,”

Jillian said to the artist, staring at her reflection and seeing Margo’s face. Clown makeup. She giggled, remembering Lex’s words. Her eyes met Chris’, and the smile disappeared from her face.

Now that it was just the two of them, he studied her makeup, lifted her chin, and frowned.

“You okay?”

Jillian nodded. She hated the tension between them. She’d told him the truth about her contract with Lex, and he didn’t approve. She was tempted to tell him about her father and the money he owed, but it wasn’t her secret to share. Her family didn’t even know that she knew. Besides, the bulk of the money had nothing to do with her family. She couldn’t help thinking he was judging her. Still, he’d thawed a little after he’d seen Sunday’s headlines. He was the one who’d called and warned her.

“Go,”

he said, nodding toward the middle of the set where the director was talking to Keith. They were about to start filming a fight scene.

Jillian hesitated.

“Don’t let them get to you,”

Chris added firmly, his voice low.

“You’re bigger and better than this.”

She couldn’t help wondering if he meant the friction between her and Margo or the contract with Lex. “Thanks.”

“Not that you need me to tell you that,”

Chris added and left.

Sighing, Jillian stared after him. As the stunt coordinator, he choreographed and worked closely with the director on the stunt sequences. Maybe this wasn’t about her. Maybe he’d heard the stupid rumors Margo had started about him and Keith. As if Chris would ever cheat on Greg.

Jillian stood, rolled her neck and shoulders, and left the makeup area. They’d been filming at a set for the last three days. Next week, they would be in Vancouver.

Keith saw her and grinned, one eye closing in a wink. If he’d heard the rumor about him and Chris, he wasn’t letting it affect him. However, his attitude toward her had changed since the party. She wasn’t sure whether he’d bought the rumor about her seducing Lex or not, but he’d been giving her strange looks.

Jillian listened as the director and Chris rehashed the fight. Then she took her cue, and faced Keith. He smirked as they circled each other. A bit irritated, she attacked a second too soon and connected with his ribs. The smile left his face as he took on the persona of his character.

The choreography was simple and straightforward. As the director and camera crew followed them, they chased each other, fought, ran some more, and then she finally face him and executed a roundhouse kick to his head. He ducked, swept his foot, and caught her by her anchoring leg.

Jillian lost her balance and landed on her back. The blue mat cushioned her fall, but the impact was still jarring. Keith pinned her down with his hips, trapped her hands, and pushed them above her head. His head lowered as though he was about to kiss her.

“Stop,”

the director yelled. “Chris?”

The two conferred, then they did it again and again. Jillian was more than relieved when they said it was a wrap.

Instead of standing, Keith continued to pin her down and whispered.

“I wish you were the lead actress.”

“No, you don’t,”

Jillian said, pushing him with her hips.

“The scene is done, Keith.”

Margo would take her place and continue the scene with a kiss.

“You and I have better chemistry, and she knows it,”

he whispered.

“Barbs noticed and mentioned it a couple of weeks ago. That’s why Margo started that rumor. Don’t let her get to you. No one believes her.”

Margo’s friends did, but it was nice to know he didn’t.

“Thank you. Now, can you get off me?”

Keith jumped to his feet and offered her a hand. They headed to the trailer for a wardrobe change. They had two more action scenes to go. Then she’d be done for the day.

Keith put an arm around her shoulder and whispered.

“Have dinner with me, Jill.”

She frowned.

“I can’t. I’m seeing someone.”

He stopped, a strange look crossing his face.

“The guy financing the movie?”

Jillian wondered if he was thinking Margo could be right. “Yes.”

“Is that why his mother is here?”

Jillian followed the direction of Keith’s eyes and saw Estelle Fitzgerald talking to Barbs. She hadn’t realized Lex’s mother was around. They hadn’t gotten a chance to speak since the night of the party. Lex was on a business trip and called every evening. She was starting to look forward to his calls and his return on Friday. At least with him, she knew exactly where she stood.

“I’m sure her presence here has nothing to do with me,”

Jillian said.

“She’s friends with Barbs.”

They entered the building, where an artist was retouching Margo’s makeup. The actress glared at them, but Jillian refused to let her get to her. It wasn’t easy. She had people loyal to her on the set. Jillian wouldn’t be surprised if she’d staged the entire pool scene and had her friends take pictures.

Show business was full of cattiness, and Jillian couldn’t wait to kiss it good-bye. All she had to do was take care of her family’s financial woes, which meant finding a way to hand over the bag of money to the thugs her father owed, and finish her present movie contract.

One more month… One more month… she chanted under her breath.

Jillian sat and reached for bottled water. While Margo disappeared outside with Keith, Jillian sipped her drink and waited. The catering van pulled up outside the makeup trailer. She’d hoped to be gone before lunch, but they were behind schedule, which meant eating between scenes.

Less than an hour later, Margo stormed into the makeup area.

“I’m going to my trailer. Do not disturb me until that oaf remembers his lines,”

she snapped to no one in particular, snatched up the script, and marched out again, her assistant racing after her.

Silence followed, no one making eye contact. One of the wardrobe people waved Jillian over. She changed her outfit without speaking and headed back outside for her next scene.

What would have taken a couple of takes took nearly five before they got it right. She wasn’t sure what had happened between Margo and Keith, but his concentration was shot, which made for terrible acting. Chris also seemed to be pissed. Nothing they did pleased him or the director.

By the time they yelled stop tempers were frayed. Keith stormed off.

“Don’t leave,”

Chris told her.

“We’ll redo that last scene after lunch.”

Great! Margo throws a fit and everyone suffers.

Jillian headed to the trailer, removed the black and purple wig, and shook her hair. The makeup would have to stay. She unbound her breasts and sighed. Spending the next several hours feeling like a mummy was not her idea of fun. Eating with people who stared and whispered was just as bad, but she refused to starve.

Voices came from outside her door, and then there was a knock. Probably one of the assistants coming to tell her she was needed. She yanked open the door and came face-to-face with Lex’s mother.

“There you are, my dear,”

she said.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Jillian took a mental step and pasted on a smile.

“Of course not, Mrs. Fitzgerald. Come in.”

“Estelle, Jillian, or I’m taking this food back,”

she said, raising a tray with covered silver dome lids.

Jillian smiled.

“Thank you, Estelle.”

Except the dome-covered lunch was Margo’s. Poetic justice. With consequences. She often requested special sandwiches from a nearby restaurant and no one was allowed to see what they were.

“They didn’t seem to have a variety and the catering people weren’t sure what you liked, so I went for the most appetizing sandwiches I could find.”

Jillian took the tray from Mrs. Fitzgerald and invited her inside. As she glanced around, Jillian tried not to wince. The trailer she shared with Chris was old, not particularly comfortable, and had shelves of his personal special effects paraphernalia. Not exactly the perfect place to entertain Mrs. Fitzgerald with her designer clothes and jewelry. Jillian pushed makeup containers aside and created room for the tray.

“Sorry, the place is a mess,”

Jillian said, pulling up the only two chairs in the room.

Lex’s mother dismissed her apology with a wave.

“No need to apologize, my dear.”

She looked around with interest.

“I always assumed a stunt coordinator would have a lot of special effects things in their trailer. You know, grotesque alien and monster masks, fake body parts…”

Jillian chuckled.

“We do physical stuff like fight, jump from high places, roll over cars, and leap from burning buildings.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald laughed.

“Sounds like fun.”

“It is. The grotesque masks are by makeup artists. Although they’re more Computer Generated Imagery than real these days.”

“CGI,”

Mrs. Fitzgerald said, sitting down.

“That’s right.”

She got bottled water from the mini fridge while Mrs. Fitzgerald lifted the silver dome lid off the plate. Shrimp salad sandwiches, yummy. There were enough sandwiches for two, which meant Margo was expecting a guest. Screeches came from outside followed by thuds. Margo. She probably chucked something at her poor assistant.

“Uh, that girl,”

Mrs. Fitzgerald murmured and sighed.

“How can you stand working with her?”

Jillian shrugged.

“I do my parts and disappear in here until they need me again. She’s very talented, and the fans love her.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald harrumphed, leaned forward, and said.

“And I took her lunch.”

Jillian’s eyes widened.

“You knew it was hers?”

“Of course. A nice young man told me, but I figured she can eat whatever everyone else is eating. It’s a small price to pay for nearly ruining my party with her shenanigans. I’m not nice like you, my dear.”

She passed Jillian a sandwich.

“Barbs told me there aren’t any pool stunts scenes in the script, so this”—she lifted the second sandwich—“will go a long way to make things even.”

She took a healthy bite.

Jillian joined her.

“Is it always this exciting around here? What’s the latest gossip? Who’s sleeping with who? The lead actor is gorgeous. Has he hit on you yet?”

Estelle Fitzgerald was outrageous and lunch turned out to quite interesting. She had Jillian laughing by the second bite. The grilling Lex had predicted never happened. The only time Mrs. Fitzgerald brought up something personal was when they discussed the training Jillian had done to become a stuntwoman. She managed to stick to the training she did as a gymnast and dancer, then the training under Chris.

They were almost done when the door flew open and Margo marched into the trailer.

“Jillian! I was told that you took my…”

Her voice trailed off when she recognized Estelle.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald. I, uh, I didn’t know you were here.”

“It is customary to knock before barging into a room, my dear,”

the older woman said calmly with just a touch of condescension.

Margo nodded, her eyes volleying between Jillian, the empty lunch plates, and Mrs. Fitzgerald.

“I apologize for the intrusion, but my lunch is missing.”

“Well, I do hope you find it. I picked up the first thing I found on the lunch table, and Jillian was kind enough to share it with me. Do close the door behind you, will you?”

Estelle added. Margo had no choice but to leave. The look she shot Jillian’s way indicated she blamed her for the entire lunch fiasco. Working with her was going to be impossible now.

Margo’s intrusion marked the end of their lunch. Jillian walked her guest out, past the staff, who was still eating and stared after them, to the parking lot where a driver waited by a limo.

“About the dress you loaned me,”

Jillian said before Estelle left.

“I’ll bring it to your house as soon as I get it back from the dry cleaners.”

“Oh no, no, dear. I wouldn’t think of it. That dress is yours now.”

“But—”

“I insist. You must ask Lex to bring you home to dinner, Jillian. The girls would love to meet you.”

Jillian was sure the girls were grown women who’d have no problem asking personal questions.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Estelle surprised her by kissing her cheeks. Then she disappeared inside the limo, rolled down the window, and waved again as they took off. The driver tipped his hat, and Jillian was reminded of Douglas, Lex’s driver. Douglas didn’t dress so formally. And it was time to call him.

She couldn’t procrastinate about paying off her father’s debt anymore. Things were moving fast. Soon she’d meet Lex’s family, then she’d take him to meet hers, then there was a wedding to plan…

Wedding. She’d avoided thinking about that, but the emotions that coursed through her—excitement, apprehension—were real and hard to ignore. She had to keep reminding herself it wouldn’t be the real thing. Still, walking down the aisle, the organ playing, her father’s proud smile...

Delete. Delete. Delete. It wouldn’t be real. Her incessant longing for something that would never come true had to stop.

Blowing out a breath, Jillian pulled out her phone, found the number Lex had given her, and pressed call. Douglas’ impersonal voice responded.

“It’s Jillian. Lex gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind.”

He chuckled.

“Not in the least, Ms. Finnegan.”

“Please, call me Jillian. I hope you’re not too busy.”

She was procrastinating.

“I have plenty of free time with Mr. Fitzgerald out of town. He left instructions to make myself available if you need anything. How can I be of service, Ms. Jillian?”

Jillian chuckled.

“You sound just like Alfred Pennyworth,”

she said. Silence followed. She winced. He probably didn’t get the joke about Bruce Wayne’s butler.

“But I can’t see Lex wearing a suit and cape,”

she added.

“No, Ms. Jillian. But he’d like the Bat mobile.”

He got it. He was also right. Lex would go for the car.

“I still haven’t seen his collection.”

“I’m sure he’ll get around to showing it.”

Jillian blew out another breath and took the plunge.

“Did he leave a bag of, uh…?”

She couldn’t just blurt out money.

“Uh, a bag for me with you?”

“Mr. Fitzgerald left a briefcase with instructions to bring it to you when you called. Do you want it now?”

“No, I’m still at the studio, but I should be home this evening. Do you think you could drop it off, uh, say around six?”

She should be done with this nightmare of a day by then.

“Of course, Ms. Jillian. I’ll see you at six.”

“Thanks, Douglas.”

She terminated the call, blew out a breath, and braced herself for a scene with Margo that was sure to follow. Somehow, that didn’t worry her as much as the thought of how she was going to hand over three hundred and fifty grand to thugs and leave unscathed.

*

Lex leaned back against his seat, rolled the pen between his fingers, and studied the men and women hashing out the details of the contract. His team was on one side and the French on the other side of the table.

The Caribbean island of St. Martin with its duty-free goods was a favorite tourist destination for Americans. Split into two regions, the Dutch side was famous for the festive nightlife, while the French side had its nude beaches. When he’d acquired a resort on the French side, he’d envisioned endless possibilities—renovating the villas, providing unique entertainments, and making the resort surpass the ones on the Dutch side. The rush that often accompanied a new project was missing. Only one thing consumed him now.

Jillian.

The image of her in the silver dress was etched in his brain. Not that she needed outer trappings to set him ablaze. Even in worn-out jeans and a leather jacket over a simple shirt, and hair mussed from a bike ride, she’d taken his breath away. But the silver dress would always be special. That he’d spent the evening knowing that she wore nothing underneath it and did nothing about it was a testament of his self-control.

Lex forced himself to focus on the discussion around the table. He’d pushed his people hard, cramming negotiations that could have taken a week into three days just so he could go home to Jillian. Their conversations, though stimulating, hadn’t lessened the gnawing need to make her his. He checked his watch. If he left in the next hour or so, he could be in L.A. by ten tonight. He’d already assembled a team to handle the project and had agreed to work with a local construction company. The bidding should start in a couple of weeks.

He also planned to expand the project to include a helipad and helicopter services to and from the island’s two main airports. He’d endured the drive to the resort a few days ago and swore never again. His time was too valuable to spend it in traffic. His guests shouldn’t have to deal with that either.

His private cell buzzed. Frowning, he glanced at it and saw Douglas’ number. After two rings, it stopped, which meant it wasn’t an emergency. Still…

Lex nodded at Hank Beaumont—the head of Caribbean office of Fitz-Valdez—stepped out of the conference room, and walked to the balcony. The air, which was heavy with moisture, thrummed with the island music. Below, tourists sunbathed topless while the daring ones went nude.

He redialed the number. “Douglas?”

“Sorry to interrupt your meeting, sir. You said to inform you when Ms. Jillian asked for the briefcase.”

The unease Lex had felt the first time Jillian had asked for the money returned. Why did she need that kind of money? Did she have a gambling problem and owed a bookie? She didn’t look the type, but the need to protect her was there.

“Sir?”

Douglas prompted.

“Go ahead and take it to her. Call me once you drop it off.”

“Is there anything else you’d like me to do, sir?”

Lex smiled. The man had been with him too long and knew him.

“Keep an eye on her once you drop off the briefcase. If she leaves her house with it, follow her. Don’t interfere. Just make sure she’s safe.”

There was silence, then.

“If Ms. Jillian is in trouble, sir, I can take care of the problem.”

Douglas was his secret weapon, the man Lex used to do background checks on prospective employees, deal with security breaches within his companies, and take care of threats to Lex and his family. He had foot soldiers to do his biddings—former buddies who didn’t mind making a quick buck now and then. Lex was concerned about Jillian, but he didn’t want Douglas following her around yet.

“Not this time, Douglas. I should be back by ten tonight. I’ll let you know the exact time.”

Hanging up the phone, Lex checked his watch. He needed to close the negotiation and head home.

*

“We’ll redo that last scene tomorrow morning,”

the director said, his eyes sweeping past Jillian to rest on Keith.

“I don’t want to use a stunt double, Keith, but if you want to sit this one out…”

Jillian crossed her fingers and hoped he said no. She was beyond exhausted. She only had two minor scenes tomorrow and didn’t mind adding a third.

“I’ll be ready tomorrow,”

the Aussie said, then smiled briefly in her direction and took off.

The strain of dealing with a temperamental actress was getting to Keith. Watching Margo go over her scenes had been painful. Zombies had more life. Maybe she needed a break. No, they all needed a break. They’d been filming nonstop for two months straight. One more month and they’d be done. The plan had been to join her brothers on their tour once she finished. The bike stunts and aerial shows were the heart of the Bay Area Circus. Now her thoughts always went to Lex.

Jillian entered the trailer to find Chris putting away his things. He ran a tight ship, hiring stuntmen and women, choreographing and tailoring each scene to the director’s vision, and making sure every gadget worked properly. When the actors didn’t get the scene right, he took it personally.

“We’ll get it right tomorrow,”

Jillian reassured him, locking the door. He mumbled something unintelligible. She sighed and started unbuttoning her shirt. How long was he going to treat her like a pariah? She hated the way he was ignoring her.

She studied him from the corner of her eyes.

“That’s it,”

Jillian said, marching to his side.

“Yell at me. Tell me how disappointed you are in my behavior. I sold my talent to the highest bidder or whatever, but you can’t sulk or give me the cold shoulder. We are family, Chris. We get angry, yell, hug, and make up.”

He stood, eyes narrowing.

“You think I’m disappointed in you because an opportunity came your way and you took it? You have more talent in your little finger than the actresses traipsing around here, Jillian. And Lex Fitzgerald is lucky you agreed to help him. You are worth every penny he’ll pay you.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Then what’s going on? Is it about my bruises on Saturday? I tried a stupid move, and I promise never to do it again.”

“You’d better not, or I swear…”

Chris sighed.

“You just said we’re family. Families don’t keep secrets from each other. You’ve always come to me when you have a problem. Why not this time?”

“Uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about Chris. If this is about the party—”

“No, it’s not. Margo is a child with an oversized ego, but she won’t start another malicious rumor or misbehave in public again. Any public misconduct and her contract would be canceled.”

Lex had made good on his promise. The man was scary powerful.

“Then I don’t understand. I’ve been honest with you about every… Oh. The money.”

“Three hundred and fifty thousand of it.”

Jillian dropped into the nearest chair and sighed.

“I guess I wanted it to go away. I thought if I paid it off, everything would go back to normal.”

He frowned.

“Is this, uh, money you owe someone? You know you could have come to me. Greg and I would have loaned you the money.”

“Oh. Thank you,”

she said.

“But it’s not my debt. I don’t owe anyone money. Dad does.”

Chris shook his head, furrows appearing on his forehead.

“Your father?”

Jillian explained what she’d overheard.

“I was so hurt, and then Greg called, saying he had a potential client. I assumed it was a weekend thing, a week at most. I figured I’d make the three-fifty and pay off the debt without Dad knowing.”

Chris came to where she sat, perched his ass on the edge of the table, and crossed his arms.

“You haven’t changed. You still charge in solo instead of asking for help. There’s always safety in numbers. We’ll think up a way to deal with this. Together.”

Her throat tightened with gratitude, Jillian jumped up and hugged him.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. I was thinking of going to the club and scouting the place, then—”

She leaned back when he shuddered.

“No solo acts, missy. Where’s the money now? I don’t think I’ve ever seen half a million in real cash before.”

Neither had she. The money they used in movies was usually fake.

“Three hundred and fifty thousand,”

she corrected him.

“Douglas, Lex’s man, is supposed to drop it off this evening. I wasn’t comfortable having it in my house so I left it with him.”

Chris frowned.

“That’s understandable. Can you ask him to hold off dropping it off until we have a plan?”

Jillian was more than happy to comply. She made the call. Douglas didn’t seem bothered by her decision.

“Is Lex still coming home on Friday?”

she asked Douglas.

“He’ll be arriving tonight, Ms. Jillian. He mentioned ten, but it might be later.”

A thought came out of nowhere and she ran with it.

“Can you pick me up before you head to the airport? I want to surprise him.”

Douglas chuckled.

“Of course. And may I say that he’ll like the surprise?”