Billionaire’s Frenemy (Billionaire Club #8)

Prologue

Jameson Cassel

“What are you doing here?” Willow Tate hissed, narrowing her gaze at me.

“Apparently, playing wingman to my older brothers,” I told her, motioning around the private room of Bradford’s , the bar my brothers and I had come to for a few drinks to celebrate closing a huge deal for our company.

The four other Cassel men seemed to have paired off with Willow’s friends, leaving me with Willow. That was my brother Fraser’s fault since he’d zeroed in on one of the women. The rest of the guys followed his lead. Luke, the oldest of us, seemed equally set on the woman beside him.

“Hmm,” Willow said, taking a sip of her champagne and following my stare. “I thought my friends had better taste.”

“Not if they hang around with you,” I sniped.

She snorted, unoffended by my standard remark. We’d been taking digs at each other for as long as I could remember.

Her chin lifted. “You’re a dick.”

“You’re a brat,” I shot back. I reached out and twirled a piece of her hair between my fingers, tugging it gently. “A pretty one, though.”

“Don’t touch me.” She rolled her eyes and knocked away my hand.

“That’s not what you said three months ago.” I stepped closer and wrapped my arm around her waist so I could whisper in her ear. “I believe your exact words were ‘God, Jamie, more’.”

“Well, that’s a mistake that won’t be repeated,” she assured me, pushing me away. “Hey, ladies, we need to get going. The limo should be waiting for us.”

Each of them extricated themselves from whichever of my brothers held their attention, and the women left in a beautiful parade while the five of us doofuses stared after them like lovesick puppies.

“Well, I gotta get back to the office,” Luke said. “Bennett, don’t you dare fucking expense this room.”

“Hey!” Bennett yelled. “Fray told me to get it.”

“And Fray will pay for it,” Fray said, clapping Bennett on the back. “Damn, did you see Emerson?”

“Who?” Luke asked.

“The hot one,” Fray continued as we headed toward the door.

“I had the hot one,” Tatum argued.

“Piss off,” Bennett said. “Penny was drop-dead gorgeous. Y’all are crazy.”

I hung back, letting my brothers argue their way through the crowd on their way out. There was no way I’d get involved in that conversation. My history with Willow was…tumultuous, to say the least. I wasn’t about to admit to my brothers I thought she was the most beautiful creature on the face of the planet.

Somehow, she and I had hated each other since our first day of kindergarten. That discontent had lasted through elementary school, middle school and most of high school. Our senior year, though…things between us had started to change. We’d still fought like cats and dogs, but there was a heat to it we didn’t quite understand.

If I were being honest, I still didn’t really understand it. Some days, I still wanted to push her off a swing set. And other days… Other days were different.

My driver had just dropped me at my building, when my phone buzzed with a text. Thinking it was one of my brothers, I paused to check it, in case I needed to head back to the office, no matter that it was after midnight.

It wasn’t one of my siblings.

Willow: Can you come get me?

Me: Where are you?

I waited with bated breath until she sent me her location, not too far from my building.

Me: Sit tight, I’ll be right there.

Since my town car had already disappeared down Park Avenue, I cut through my building and headed down to the parking beneath it where my three cars were parked in my private enclosure. In minutes, I was pulling up the ramp then out onto the street. Traffic was never good, even this late at night, but I was thankful I could more easily navigate through it than if it were daylight hours.

Navigating around the block, I headed toward the address Willow had sent. Pulling up to the club, I handed the doorman a couple hundreds and asked him to keep an eye on my car, making sure it stayed right where it was. When I got inside, Willow was sitting on a bench, her head leaning against the wall, her shoes in her hand.

“You okay?” I asked, kneeling in front of her.

“I got drunk and broke my shoe. Then I fell down in front of a gay Australian stripper, and Emerson spilled her fruity, sticky drink on my dress.” She was pouting, but she wasn’t crying, so I took that as a good sign she wasn’t that drunk.

I’d known her for a long time. And I knew a super-drunk Willow was a very tearful Willow.

“Come on,” I said, helping her to her feet. “Let me take you home.”

“Can we go to your place?” she asked, batting her lashes at me.

I scooped her into my arms and carried her to the door, claiming her mouth in a quick kiss.

“You’re the devil,” I told her, shaking my head as she giggled.

“And you love me,” she said.

“I’ve never said that,” I reminded her.

“You will, though,” she taunted. “Someday.”

The doorman opened the passenger door of my car, and I dumped her into the seat. Leaning inside over her, I kissed her again.

“That’s never going to happen, cupcake.” Then I shut her inside before she could respond.

I gave the doorman another hundred and a thank you then got behind the wheel and sped off toward my penthouse.

“How drunk are you?” I asked her as I pulled into my parking garage.

“Not very,” she promised.

“So, you’re of sound mind and body at the moment?”

She lifted a slim, tempting shoulder. “Um, mostly?”

Good enough for me.

We were barely through the front door when she jumped into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and throwing her weight forward so we fell back onto the sofa.

“We have to stop doing this,” I told her as I raised her skirt and ripped away the scrap of lace she apparently called panties. “I’m going to start thinking you’re ashamed of me.”

“I am ashamed of you,” she teased. “You’re my dirty little secret.”

“And you’re my dirty little hellhound.” I picked her up and flipped us, so I was lying over her on the couch. “My fucking gorgeous demon girl.”

“And you love me,” she said again.

“Never going to happen, sweetheart.” I pulled off my T-shirt then stood so I could kick off my jeans and shorts before jumping on her again.

I thrust forward, pushing completely inside her when she wrapped her thighs around me again. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she rocked with me, her breath coming in hard pants and her body shuddering.

Sliding my hand between us, I found her clit with my finger and pulsed over it while I fucked her, hard and fast. In moments, she was screaming out my name as she came, her nails digging rivets into my skin. My brain’s pleasure-and-pain center went haywire, and I came so hard I might have blacked out for a second.

I shifted us on the sofa, spooning behind her and pulling a blanket over us.

“So, I’m staying?” she asked through a yawn.

“Where the hell else are you gonna go?” I grumbled against her shoulder. “Good night, Willow.”

“Good night, Jamie.”

* * * *

“Damn it,” Willow muttered from somewhere nearby, her whisper-hiss cutting into my sleep to bring me awake.

I blinked open my eyes to see her breaking the heel off one of her shoes—the one that had been unbroken, apparently.

“Do you want me to have some clothes delivered for you?” I asked, sitting up and adjusting the blanket over my lap.

“No, don’t trouble yourself,” she said.

Great. So, we were starting the morning like this. Again. Whenever we ended up sleeping together, Willow got an attitude about the whole thing.

“Jesus, what’s your problem?” I scrubbed my hand over my face and stared at her, praying that for once in her life she’d just be straight with me.

“I’m not your booty call, Jameson Cassel.”

“No,” I agreed, wrapping the blanket around my waist as I came to my feet. “But apparently, I’m yours. Let’s not forget who called who last night. Or who asked to come back here. I’m so sick of this, Willow. You know, we could have something really special if you’d just let me the fuck in.”

“Let it go, Jameson,” she insisted, sliding her feet into her broken shoes. “Look, we’re not good for each other. And whatever this is…it has to stop.”

“So, I should stop answering when you call me?” I snapped, my hand slashing through the air beside me in frustration.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a sigh. “It won’t happen again.”

“Can I at least take you home?” I asked, suppressing a growl.

“There’s a car coming for me,” she said, shaking her head. She walked over and pulled my head down, kissing me softly on the lips. “I’m sorry. This is just never going to work.”

I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to beg her to stay. To ask why she was fighting me so hard. But I knew better. We’d been down this road too many time. Before I could form a plea, she’d grabbed her bag and dashed from the living room. The private elevator in my foyer dinged as the doors opened for her.

Damn it. Why the hell did I have to fall in love with the most complicated woman in all of New York?