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  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  Guide

  Contents

  Start of content

  Devil’s Deal

  Tarnished Billionaires, Book 1

  Michele Arris

  Avon, Massachusetts

  With love and giant hugs to my A-team.

  Chapter One

  “Coffee.”

  That one word was all Lucas had to say to his assistant, Kara, seated across from him in his limo. Her fingers flew over her iPad’s keyboard as he forwarded an endless trail of to do’s to her. As confident as he was that his driver and security guard, Isaac, would skillfully maneuver the car out of downtown Washington, D.C.’s gridlock, Lucas was just as confident that Kara would ensure his customary end of the day coffee craving would be met without fail.

  “I’ve already found a location. Nuagé Café. It’s just up ahead,” Kara replied. She glanced up from her iPad, pressed the intercom button, and relayed the location to Isaac. Ten minutes later, the limo pulled into the busy plaza, taking up two parking spaces.

  While Kara hurried into the café to get his coffee, Lucas stretched his tired frame with a rub at the back of his neck. He needed a break from marking up the terms and conditions of the fifty-page document he’d been working on for the past hour and a half. There were two others, just as lengthy, that he also needed to have ready for Kara to send out by morning.

  Taking in the busy plaza around him, Nuagé Café was nestled between a bridal boutique and a vintage bookstore. Beside that was a pet grooming salon where he observed several patrons entering and exiting the place toting their pooches in fashionable handbags. Up the block, blanketing both sides of the busy strip, were Tiffany and Co., Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman Marcus, Louis Vuitton, and a host of other high-end stores.

  A recent transplant from California, he’d been in D.C. less than a month, but he now understood why Kara had suggested he consider the area when he’d mentioned to her that he was looking for a home to purchase. The location was just outside of the city and was littered with every convenience imaginable. Kara would be able to find anything he required without ever leaving the zip code.

  Returning to his work, he quickly became distracted by the sound of a car’s engine knocking and looked up as a Honda pulled into a parking space. It coughed out a last effort before shutting down.

  His head pivoted, doing a double take. Damn! Warm honey—those two words sprung to mind as he watched the honey-brown-skinned woman fiddling under the hood of her car. She was talking to ... well, from the looks of it, she was holding a conversation with herself, chatting away.

  She couldn’t see him watching her through his tinted windows. Finding her behavior amusing, he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Her hair, a thick mass of curls, was held back from her oval-shaped face with a thin, white hair band and piled into a disheveled updo. The short, khaki skirt she wore showed off long, shapely legs. A tennis player. No, perhaps a runner. Just then, a commotion coming from a small group of ladies standing over by the pet salon drew her attention. A dog had gotten loose from its owner and was now zipping around the parking lot. His mystery lady didn’t hesitate, joining in on the chase to capture the fluffy, white, apparently freshly groomed Maltese. The animal darted under her car, and she instantly dropped down to her knees.

  Lucas quickly sat up and slid closer to the window, getting a good look at her ass. “Nice. Real nice,” he murmured appreciatively.

  Moments later, she came up with the animal, whose fur no longer resembled puffy white clouds, and handed it off to its distraught owner who headed straight back to the pet salon, likely for a shampoo redo.

  His mystery lady palmed her forehead, catching her breath, recovering from the chase. He chuckled at the dirt smudge her hand left behind. There was something adorable about it.

  As she dusted at her skirt while muttering to her car, she gave a look over his way. What the—! His breath caught in his throat. He’d expected brown eyes. He couldn’t tell precisely the color from the distance and through the tinted windows, but they were nowhere near brown. Hazel? Maybe. There was a pearlescent glimmer in her eyes from the sun’s waning amber. Lucas frowned. Pearlescent glimmer ... sun’s waning amber—what a bizarre thing to randomly pop into his head. She had his brain spewing ridiculous verse like a besotted idiot. That thought had him moving away from the window, yet he continued to watch her. He told himself to look away, but he simply couldn’t, and he fought back the sudden urge to get out of the car. At the very least, he could make her aware of the dirt on her face. He moved to the door, but she grabbed a satchel from her passenger seat and strolled off. His eyes locked onto her perfect ass in that short skirt, enjoying the gentle sway of her slender hips. She stopped midstride when she came upon another woman.

  It’s a uniform. She works at the café. The blonde she was speaking with wore the exact outfit—white polo-style shirt and khaki skirt—but with a short, black apron tied at her waist.

  During their exchange, the blonde used her hand to wipe away the dirt smudge, and then the two approached the café.

  His mystery lady pulled open the door and out walked Kara with his coffee. She held the door for Kara with a smile—an exquisite smile—and then she and her coworker disappeared within.

  Lucas was still staring at the café’s double doors when Kara entered the car and sat across from him. No woman in his circle of acquaintances, hell, not even Kara would have chanced soiling her perfectly fitted skirt suit to retrieve a dog under a car.

  “Sorry for the long wait.” Kara handed over the cup. “The place has both a dining lounge area and an on-the-go station with a very long line. It’s quit
e a busy establishment.”

  Lucas took a sip. It was actually pretty good. “Has your mother gotten settled in?” he asked her.

  “Yes. I still don’t know how you got them to approve her application. It’s one of the best living facilities in the country for treatment of ALS. There was a nine-month waiting list. And to cover the cost for twenty-four-hour care as well as private accommodations, I cannot thank you enough. I’m headed there this weekend to finish up the paperwork, but as always, if you need to reach me, I’ll have my cell on around the clock.”

  “Kara, take all the time you need, and no need to keep thanking me.” With everything she did for him, Lucas felt helping her care for her mother was the least he could do. “Let me know if she requires anything else.”

  He returned to his work as Isaac slowly brought the car into the line of traffic to exit the plaza.

  “How’s the coffee?” Kara asked. “The barista said they’ve won awards for their signature in-house brew.”

  “It’s very good.” Lucas took a last look out his window at the café. As he drank the strong, black liquid, he now knew what he needed to relieve his stress. The remedy was just beyond those glass doors, and it had nothing to do with the in-house brew.

  Chapter Two

  “Bails, that hottie’s back. I gave him a menu. My section’s full. I had Tina sit him in yours to keep him away from Kim. The man could hardly relax with her hovering over him like a damn buzzard. You should’ve seen her the other night.”

  “What? Who?” Bailey moved to the prep counter. She glanced back at her longtime bestie and roommate, Sienna, while grabbing table six’s order of Thai chicken flat bread and roasted turkey with goat cheese panini, both with creamy tomato soup on the side.

  “Mr. Hotnessss,” Sienna emphasized. “He was here Thursday night—your day off. He came in just before close. I had your section. Girl, you should’ve seen Kim. She was prancing her butt by his table in that tight-ass shirt from the moment the man sat down. She should wear nipple pads if she’s gonna wear her shirt that damn tight.”

  Bailey laughed. “Sie, leave Kim alone.” She was used to Sienna going off about their coworker, Kimberly. Sienna felt Kim was lazy and only perked up in her duties when she spotted a man with potentially deep pockets stroll in.

  Bailey retrieved two clean glasses from a stack, quickly added ice in each, and filled one with Diet Coke and the other with iced tea. She gave another glance over her shoulder at her friend and added, “Let Kim do Kim.” She picked up her tray and turned around, unaware that Sienna was standing so close. Her friend had to leap back a step to avoid getting jabbed in the stomach with the tray.

  “As for this Mr. Hotness, whoever he is, as long as he orders and eats fast, that’s all I care about. I’m not looking to be here past my shift tonight.”

  She hated when Tina sat customers in her section close to the end of her shift. This time, however, it was Sienna she could thank for her possibly leaving late. All the same, she actually liked working at the trendy hotspot that practically stayed busy until close. The tips alone were worth the long hours she put in on her feet after having spent nine hours at her day job.

  Professionals frequented the café late in the evening with laptops and tablets—sometimes both—to grab a bite and likely pick up where they left off at the office. It was a short stint from busy D.C., offered free Wi-Fi, and was considered a great place to network. A large, four-sided, weathered red-brick fireplace stood in the center of the dining area with comfy mahogany leather loveseats and chairs circled around it. Wide booths lined the walls, and tables were stationed about the floor with power outlets wired right into the tabletops.

  “Sie, don’t you have customers waiting? We’re leaving on time tonight, so get moving.”

  With her tray in hand, she bustled over to the swing doors, backed against the right side, and entered the dining area.

  Sienna was right on her heels. “He’s at booth four,” she muttered before rushing off to tend to her section.

  Setting the plates and drinks before her customers, Bailey pulled two straws from her apron pocket and placed them on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked with a polite smile. Both voiced no thanks, to which Bailey replied, “Enjoy.”

  She made her way to booth four where the man sat. His fingers were rapidly flying over the surface of the wireless keyboard that he had stationed in front of his iPad.

  “Good evening, what can I get for you?” Annoyance pinched at her when he didn’t acknowledge her standing there, instead choosing to continue working, texting, tweeting, or whatever it was that was more important than being polite.

  I so don’t need this. “Sir?” She barely fought back a snarl. Does he think I got all night to cater to his butt? Some people think they’re the cock of the walk. She’d picked that saying up from her mom. He may wish to work himself into an early grave, but I sure as hell don’t intend to. That saying, too.

  Bailey was picturing her comfortable bed, wishing she could sleep in tomorrow. That was out of the question. Having only been employed at the interior design firm for three months, she couldn’t risk being late.

  Annoyed, she clenched her teeth to avoid saying something rude and turned to leave.

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to lose my train of thought,” he said while continuing to type away.

  His deep, throaty baritone made her toes bunch up in her sneakers. She turned back. He lifted his head; his steel-blue eyes locked steady onto hers.

  Okay, Sienna, he’s hot.

  It was a stare down ... no, a stare at, at least on Bailey’s end. She felt tethered to his stare, which he still hadn’t blinked. Damn. He was truly a hottie—dark wavy hair, blue-gray eyes, lightly tanned complexion. And the man was big from what she could tell—the weight-room-scheduled-workout-regimen kind of big.

  Her eyes roamed over the white button-down he wore with the sleeves rolled up his thick forearms, fitting snug over his bunching biceps and massive chest. Her gaze followed his movements as he planted his elbows on the table and linked his fingers. Nice, big, strong hands. It could mean big ... Girl, get a grip! It had been a while since she’d had sex. Well, more like three years. After getting burned by two cheating exes, one learned not to be so quick to hover a hand over the fire. But damn. This was a new record—the man had the crotch of her panties moist in under a minute with just a look.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Sizing up this man, this stranger is downright wrong.

  It’s not like she hadn’t served a good-looking professional man at the café before. They popped in aplenty, dressed in suits that cost more than what she made in a month, and drove cars that cost more than what she earned in a year from both her jobs combined.

  The urge to look down at the man’s shoes was tempting. She had a thing for men in fashionable shoes. Her mom always said nice teeth and quality shoes spoke of a man who took care of himself. That saying had never made any sense to her, since steel toe boots were the men’s style of choice in the small town of Darlington, South Carolina, where she’d grown up. Nevertheless, she always found herself looking for those two qualities on a man. Shoes were the one vice she had herself.

  Her curiosity building, she pulled her gaze away from the man’s hypnotizing blue-grays to steal a look at his shoes. Darn it. They weren’t visible under the booth. She brought her eyes back up. Ding! Ding! Ding! Perfect, straight, white teeth. He was smiling at her, throwing her off guard. She had to swallow air into her lungs to regulate airflow. His beautiful smile lit up his stunningly attractive features, taking her breath away.

  “Did you drop something?” he asked and leaned to the side to look beneath the table, then brought his gaze back up to hers, but not before lingering on her bare legs for several heartbeats.

  God, Bailey, so stupid. She was dissecting the man like a lab experiment, and he knew it. And he was still smiling at her. In place of air, she swallowed her embarrassment this time and plac
ed the tray on the end of the table to grab her pen and pad from her apron pocket. “What can I get for you, sir?” He eyed her a moment longer with that enthralling smile, blinked—finally—and then took a look at his menu.

  “I’ll have coffee, regular blend, black, and, uh, what pie would you recommend?” He looked up and caught her once again attempting a look under the table. “It’s not a mouse, is it?” A grin with a playful wiggle of brows.

  “No! No ... I ... it ... uh, there are sixteen different pies and cobblers,” Bailey hastily rattled off to mask her embarrassment. “The cherry cobbler is very popular, but I like the sweet potato. It reminds me of home.” She regretted saying it the moment it fell out of her mouth. She preferred to maintain a professional distance with the customers—kind and very respectful, but never overly friendly. This man had her tongue all loose and parts of her body spiking a charge. She had to keep it together.

  “And where might home be?” he questioned.

  “South Carolina. So, it’s black coffee—regular—and cherry cob—”

  “I’ll try sweet potato. South Carolina by way of ... somewhere abroad? Perhaps an island, given your lovely features.”

  Abroad? Her response was a faint shrug. She followed his gaze, slowly moving over her face, down her body, and then back up. Though she’d done the same to him, it pinched a nerve. His scan of her seemed to be more of an inspection.

  Sienna often told Bailey that she’d pretty much lost her southern drawl from living up north for the past six and a half years, but she knew it wasn’t so far gone that she sounded foreign, for goodness sake. It was clearly his way of trying to determine her ethnicity.

  She was used to people asking her what she was mixed with, having inherited looks from her mother’s side of the family, specifically her maternal grandfather’s green eyes. She’d been told ever since she was a little girl that she was an eye-catcher, as her grandfather would put it. Both her parents were African American, but her eyes and curly hair would suggest she was biracial.