Read Online The Billion Dollar Bad Boy by Jackie Ashenden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jackie Ashenden
Ads: Link
found himself watching the way his brother’s hand rested in the center of Pandora’s mostly bare back, fingers trailing over the red silk of her gown. A protective gesture.
The sight needled him for some reason.
As if he needed an extra needle.
Damn fucking Jax and his refusal to see reason.
He’d never been jealous of his brother, not even when it had been clear their father preferred Jax. His older brother had always looked out for him and looked out for him still, Donovan knew that.
But right now Jax’s rigid attitude needed a damn adjustment. His brother had never known what it was like to not feel a part of your own family. To have the name and the blood but not the acceptance. Even Sean, their half-brother and the outsider, had been more of a Morrow than Donovan had. Donovan was too good, too needy, too desperate for approval to be a true Morrow, and his father had always despised neediness in all its forms.
No, this land was his chance to finally have what Jax had. A piece of the Morrow legacy that was all his. If only he could get his brother to see it.
Donovan leaned against the bar and knocked back the rest of the Scotch. Trying to find a good mood at the bottom of a whiskey tumbler was probably a mistake but hell, he’d done it before. He’d do it again.
As he did so a flash of red in the shifting crowd caught his attention. A woman in a plain black strapless cocktail dress, standing out in the heavily couture crowd like a pure white lily in a field full of poppies. The only bright thing about her was her hair, a knot of red on top of her head.
Victoria.
She was talking to Alex St. James, the owner of the 2nd Circle and a playboy with an even more infamous reputation than Donovan’s. He must have said something funny because she laughed, her cool self-containment dropping, warm amusement lighting her expression.
A tight feeling lodged behind his breastbone.
You stupid prick. Did you think you’re the only one she drops her mask for?
He shoved that thought away, watching as a flare of interest passed over St. James’s face, the man’s smile widening. He leaned down, his mouth close to Victoria’s ear, murmuring something to her. His hand drifted to the small of her back. That protective, possessive gesture.
A raw, primitive, and wholly unfamiliar feeling flooded Donovan, his muscles tensing in preparation to go over there and tell that son of a bitch to take his hands off her.
He’d even taken the first step when he caught himself, aware suddenly of what he’d been about to do.
What the fuck? He didn’t get jealous. He never got jealous. Jealousy implied that he gave a shit and he didn’t give a shit.
What have you done to me?
Nothing. He’d done nothing to her. And she’d done nothing to him.
And maybe she was right. Maybe they should call it done. Maybe it was over and he should let it go. Let what happened in the limo, stay in the limo.
At that moment, she turned her head, her cool gaze catching his. And he felt the electricity arc between them. Electricity that shouldn’t still be there and yet, inexplicably, was.
With a conscious effort he relaxed his muscles. Settled back against the bar. Held her gaze.
She’d said she was going to give him a couple of hours before she’d find him to “discuss” the De Winter offer, and she had. Pity. Earlier he might have been up for further “discussion.” But not now.
Because it wasn’t
her
that was important.
It was his birthright. His legacy.
And he was going to keep it no matter what offers Victoria de Winter came up with.
No matter what his damn brother said.
Chapter 5
“Over there, by the bar,” Alex St. James whispered in Victoria’s ear. “I think Donovan Morrow wants to kill me.”
She turned her head and looked because she couldn’t help it.
Sure enough, she spotted him through the crowd, leaning back against the matte black bar, looking dissolute and thoroughly disreputable with his tie loose and his
The sight needled him for some reason.
As if he needed an extra needle.
Damn fucking Jax and his refusal to see reason.
He’d never been jealous of his brother, not even when it had been clear their father preferred Jax. His older brother had always looked out for him and looked out for him still, Donovan knew that.
But right now Jax’s rigid attitude needed a damn adjustment. His brother had never known what it was like to not feel a part of your own family. To have the name and the blood but not the acceptance. Even Sean, their half-brother and the outsider, had been more of a Morrow than Donovan had. Donovan was too good, too needy, too desperate for approval to be a true Morrow, and his father had always despised neediness in all its forms.
No, this land was his chance to finally have what Jax had. A piece of the Morrow legacy that was all his. If only he could get his brother to see it.
Donovan leaned against the bar and knocked back the rest of the Scotch. Trying to find a good mood at the bottom of a whiskey tumbler was probably a mistake but hell, he’d done it before. He’d do it again.
As he did so a flash of red in the shifting crowd caught his attention. A woman in a plain black strapless cocktail dress, standing out in the heavily couture crowd like a pure white lily in a field full of poppies. The only bright thing about her was her hair, a knot of red on top of her head.
Victoria.
She was talking to Alex St. James, the owner of the 2nd Circle and a playboy with an even more infamous reputation than Donovan’s. He must have said something funny because she laughed, her cool self-containment dropping, warm amusement lighting her expression.
A tight feeling lodged behind his breastbone.
You stupid prick. Did you think you’re the only one she drops her mask for?
He shoved that thought away, watching as a flare of interest passed over St. James’s face, the man’s smile widening. He leaned down, his mouth close to Victoria’s ear, murmuring something to her. His hand drifted to the small of her back. That protective, possessive gesture.
A raw, primitive, and wholly unfamiliar feeling flooded Donovan, his muscles tensing in preparation to go over there and tell that son of a bitch to take his hands off her.
He’d even taken the first step when he caught himself, aware suddenly of what he’d been about to do.
What the fuck? He didn’t get jealous. He never got jealous. Jealousy implied that he gave a shit and he didn’t give a shit.
What have you done to me?
Nothing. He’d done nothing to her. And she’d done nothing to him.
And maybe she was right. Maybe they should call it done. Maybe it was over and he should let it go. Let what happened in the limo, stay in the limo.
At that moment, she turned her head, her cool gaze catching his. And he felt the electricity arc between them. Electricity that shouldn’t still be there and yet, inexplicably, was.
With a conscious effort he relaxed his muscles. Settled back against the bar. Held her gaze.
She’d said she was going to give him a couple of hours before she’d find him to “discuss” the De Winter offer, and she had. Pity. Earlier he might have been up for further “discussion.” But not now.
Because it wasn’t
her
that was important.
It was his birthright. His legacy.
And he was going to keep it no matter what offers Victoria de Winter came up with.
No matter what his damn brother said.
Chapter 5
“Over there, by the bar,” Alex St. James whispered in Victoria’s ear. “I think Donovan Morrow wants to kill me.”
She turned her head and looked because she couldn’t help it.
Sure enough, she spotted him through the crowd, leaning back against the matte black bar, looking dissolute and thoroughly disreputable with his tie loose and his
Similar Books
