Stranded with a Billionaire (THE BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB) by Clare Jessica

Author:Clare, Jessica [Clare, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-04-15T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“This meeting of the brotherhood is called to order,” Logan said around the cigar in his mouth. He handed the deck of cards to Hunter at his right. “Deal.”

The scarred man took the cards and gave Logan a wary look, but said nothing. That suited Logan just fine. If his mood was a bit black at the moment, he didn’t give a shit if his friends knew it or not. They could all be in pissy moods for all he cared. A table full of cranky assholes suited him at the moment, since he was one.

Brontë had been sad and listless for the past two days, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Fucking Danica. He still suspected that she’d gotten her claws into Brontë despite the talk he’d had with her. Something had changed between them that night. The lovemaking was just as intense as ever, but her smile seemed somewhat faded, and he could have sworn that when he came in the room sometimes, her eyes were red as if she’d been crying. She always said nothing was wrong, but he could tell.

She’d told him she loved him, and he’d given her a hug. He wasn’t the kind to declare his love, though. Not before a prenup was signed and he could be sure of her feelings. He’d traveled down that road once before, and he wasn’t going to be taken again. His father had been a tough buzzard, too. Just before he’d died, he’d mocked Logan for being so upset about Danica’s reluctance to sign the prenup. What had Logan expected after spouting off about feelings to her? Of course she wasn’t going to sign, his father had sneered. Logan had declared his love for her. She had him by the balls. Hawkings men didn’t declare their feelings, because it gave power to someone else.

Logan wouldn’t make that mistake again. So he had said nothing when Brontë had confessed her feelings to him, even though he’d felt a surge of satisfaction at her admission. She loved him. His beautiful, sweet Brontë loved him.

Brontë had common sense—it was one of the charming things about her—but he didn’t know what to do with her sadness. Common sense told him to ignore it. But her melancholy bothered him. It bothered him even more that she was trying to hide it. Hence, his foul mood.

The door opened, and Cade walked in, the last to arrive. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Hold up at the office. Someone deal me in?”

“’Bout fucking time,” Logan said, tossing the cigar in his mouth into the ashtray on the table. “We can start now.”

Drinks were passed in his direction, as well as chips. Cade was giving him a scrutinizing look but said nothing as Hunter dealt the cards. After a moment, he looked over at Logan again, and said, “I enjoyed meeting Brontë the other day.”

Logan grunted a response.

“Charming girl,” Griffin said, tossing a chip into the pot to start the bidding. “Very interesting education.

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