Billionaire's Curvy Bet Page 3

  “What twisted little game do they have you playing?” I finally say, leaning back and sipping my water as Janelle tosses her phone at the couch and furiously runs her hands through her dark hair.

  “It’s not a game,” Janelle says as she paces the room, her face ashen, her fingers curled into tense fists. “They said I’ve been given a contract, and I have to deliver on it by sunrise tomorrow or else my millions will disappear into the clouds.”

  I shrug and nod. “My game was to answer a question. Ingram’s game was to win a bet. Your game is to deliver on a contract. Lemme guess: Marriage contract with some asshole billionaire from the Society?”

  I smile to lighten the mood, but Janelle’s expression is dark as sin. Slowly she shakes her head, and the lightness evaporates as that chill in my spine rises up to my throat and grips tight.

  “No, not a marriage contract,” she whispers, walking to the window and turning her back to me. “A death contract.” When she turns, I almost don’t recognize Janelle. Her red lips are tight like wires, her brown eyes narrowed to slits, her eyebrows twitching like there’s something under her skin. “A death contract on you, India. Mother and Father want me to kill you before the sun rises in the East.”

  4

  INGRAM

  “Kill him before the sun rises in the East,” I say, reading from the message on James’s phone. I look over at him and toss the phone back. “That’s pretty fucking clear. No reading between the lines there.”

  “Correct,” says James, stroking his jaw and eyeing me up and down like he’s sizing me up, wondering if my body will fit into his Louis Vuitton luggage or if he’ll have to dice me up and run me through a blender before pouring me down the sink.

  I look around the sprawling downtown penthouse that occupies the top three floors of this highrise. Pretty sure James owns the building too. Motherfucker hit the Big B in spectacular style when he bought depressed real estate during the last recession and rode the recovery right to the top of the mountain. He’s legit, just like Hayes and me.

  But that’s where the comparison ends, I think as we lock eyes and ride the tense silence in the spartan postmodern room with panoramic views of the early evening sun. Yup, although all three of us can be tough as nails in a negotiation, arrogant as fuck in an argument, confident to the point of narcissism in our personal lives, James always had a edge to him—an edge darker than anything that lived in Hayes or myself.

  But he’s not a killer, I think as we both break grins at the same time and share a fist-bump across the old metal chest that doubles as a coffee table. The thought of actually killing me hasn’t even crossed his mind—which is why we’re here at his place, strategizing about how to track down Mother and Father and end this game. Interestingly, Mother and Father haven’t locked down James’s accounts yet, which makes me wonder if we’re missing something about his game.

  Don’t forget that your own game is counting down, I remind myself as I squint into the glare of the evening sun. But I can’t think about that right now. I’ve already decided that India is mine, and if I lose all my money, so be it. I’ll just climb back up the mountain again. Besides, I don’t even know where that woman in the red dress is hiding. And anyway, given that the game has advanced to putting out death contracts on people, it’s best India stays hidden while I figure this shit out.

  “What I can’t figure out is why they haven’t locked out your accounts yet,” I say as James offers me a drink—which I decline. I need my wits about me right now. Besides, who knows what’s in that drink . . .

  James shoots back the drink he just offered me, smacking his lips as if to prove it’s not poison. “Because if they’d taken my billions we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he says matter-of-factly. “Hard to talk when your dead body is being chilled in my meat freezer.”

  I see the twinkle in his green eyes and laugh out loud. There’s an edge to the humor, but it’s probably a good thing we’re joking about it. It’s almost exciting, actually—probably because it keeps the adrenaline going. “Nice,” I say. “Right next to the ribeye.”

  We share another laugh, and then James goes serious. “Why do you think Mother and Father haven’t locked my accounts like they did with you and . . . what’s her name?”

  “India,” I say, frowning as a fiercely protective instinct rises up. Immediately I’m back to obsessing about why she left the Club, where she might be, what might be in store for her. “Fuck, I need to find her, James.”

  “You think she might be in trouble?” James says.

  “Well, we’re all in trouble,” I say with a grunt. “But we need to stick together, figure this out as a team.”

  “I’m not much of a team guy,” James says. “Neither are you, far as I remember.”

  “This isn’t the time to reminisce about our glory days,” I growl. “I can’t get a hold of Hayes, and you’re the only other Society member I know. It’s just the three of us guys. And India, of course. Maybe that woman who’s with Hayes right now. Anyone else you know of?”

  James nods. “There is another woman,” he says slowly, stroking his stubble. “I met her briefly at a conference last week, actually. She had a Society ring on her finger, which struck me as strange, since the Society didn’t accept women, far as I knew. So I assumed it was her husband or boyfriend’s ring, and obviously I cut the conversation short even though she was smoking hot, sexy as hell, with hips like heaven. But I don’t do married women.” He snorts and raises his shot glass. “Or marriage, for that matter. But that’s a different conversation.”

  “Maybe not,” I say. “Maybe it’s the same conversation.”

  “What do you mean?” says James.

  I think for a bit. “Well, both of us have spent considerable energy avoiding marriage,” I finally say. “Why is that, you think?”

  “Coz marriages are doomed to fail. What the fuck kind of question is that?” James shakes his head, looking at me like I’ve lost it.

  I shake my head too, but clearly Mother and Father want all of us to think about marriage, that ancient institution that’s the foundation of society, the smallest unit of a family. Two coming together as one, merging their separate pasts to create a united future.

  “Did your parents have a bad marriage? Did they divorce when you were a kid?” I ask.

  James rolls his eyes. “Fuck, I should kill you just for asking lame-ass questions like that. What are you, my therapist?”

  “Just answer the question,” I growl. “I think Mother and Father want us to face our beliefs about marriage.” I rub my jaw and glance off to the left as I think back to when James and I were younger and would take those trips to Vegas—which, ironically, is Ground Zero for insta-marriages. “You remember that night in Vegas when we saw a drunk couple heading to a wedding chapel?”

  “Vaguely,” James says with a grin. “What about it?”

  “Well, I remember you asked me if I’d ever consider getting hitched,” I say, shaking my head and smiling. “I said I’d rather die. You remember what you said next?”

  James stares wide-eyed as the memory comes back. “I said I’d rather . . . kill.”

  Now I’m wide-eyed too, but with excitement. “So you said you’d rather kill than get married. And I said I’d rather die than get married. Now we’re in a game where if I don’t get married by sunset, I might die by sunrise . . . killed by you.”

  “Sonofabitch,” James mutters, biting his lip and staring out the window as the sun moves ever so slowly toward the horizon. “So the guy who says he’d rather die than get married is killed by the guy who says he’d rather kill than get married. Motherfucker! That’s so brilliantly twisted I almost like it!”

  “Easy for you to say,” I say with a grin. “I’m the guy with his ass on the line.” We share a laugh, and now I’m on a roll. “But now that we’ve figured out the game, we know how to win it. You get it, right?”

  James frowns as he taps the space between his eyebrows. “We h
ave to do what we swore we wouldn’t. Or else Mother and Father will hold our billions hostage until we do what we said we’d rather do.”

  “Exactly,” I say, slapping the tabletop and making the shotglass jump. “So if I marry India, I win the bet and get to live. And if you get marred to the woman Mother and Father choose, then you’re released from the death contract, which means you no longer have to kill me to keep your billions.”

  James nods, and then he shakes his head. “So my choice is either marry some woman I don’t even know or else put a fucking bullet in your head to get out of it or do nothing and go broke? That’s a sick-ass choice, bro.”

  I shrug. “You did say you’d rather kill than get hitched,” I remind him.

  James stares at me poker-faced. “What if I decide to stick by that statement?” he says softly, in a way that’s only ninety-percent fucking with me. Then he blinks and smiles. “Just messing with you, of course. But those choices are pretty heavy, Ingram. Marriage? I guess I could get married and divorced, but who knows if that would satisfy Mother and Father. Yeah, I don’t know, man. At least you’ve met your match.”

  “And I bet you’ve met yours,” I say. “That woman with the curvy hips and the Society ring. You actually remember her from a few weeks ago, which is unusual for you. Women don’t stick around in your roving mind—or in your life, for that matter.”

  “Janelle, her name was,” James says, and I see a spark behind those dark green eyes. She made an impression, I can tell. Just like India sparked something in me. Just like that curvy woman caught Hayes’s attention in the most electric way. That’s three for three. Pre-ordained matches that feel like fate, meant-to-be, straight-up magic.

  As if by magic, both our phones beep at once. We’re both lightning quick on the draw, and a moment later we’re holding our phones up and comparing messages.

  “Same message,” I say. “A set of GPS coordinates. Same coordinates.” I think a moment and then cock my head and look up. “Is it possible India and Janelle are together right now?”

  James types in the coordinates and shrugs. “That new condo building. Not far from here.” He glances at the sun and then winks at me. “Sun’s still up. Let’s see if we can save your billionaire ass in time.”

  5

  INDIA

  “There’s no time for that,” Ingram says urgently, grabbing my wrist and whipping me around to face him. “The sun’s on its way down. We need to do this now, India. I told you, I don’t think our money’s at stake any longer. It might be our lives. If we aren’t married by sunset, it’s going to set off a chain-reaction of conditions in this fucked-up game of matchmaking.”

  I’d been shocked when Ingram and James knocked on Janelle’s door, and even more shocked when Ingram excitedly explained how Mother and Father were using his and James’s own words as the conditions of the game.

  But I wasn’t as shocked about the game as I was about the words.

  Words that I’d used myself a long time ago.

  “Janelle, do you remember that bachelorette party down in Atlantic City just a couple of years after grad school?” I say. She nods, and I can see those words are as fresh in her mind as they are now in mine.

  “You said you’d rather die than get married,” Janelle says. She pauses, and her voice drops an octave. “And I said I’d rather kill someone than get married to someone.” She shoots a quick look at James. “Nothing personal,” she says, almost flirting with him in a way that makes this crazy situation feel vaguely surreal, almost playful, even magical.

  “Um, I’m the one who should take it personally,” I remind her, smiling as I think back to the scare Janelle gave me with that look. Janelle’s always had a dark edge to her, but not that kind of dark. No way.

  “Are we finished here?” Ingram says, one hand still on my wrist as he checks something on his phone. “Fuck. City Hall closed at five. Maybe we can call a Justice of the Peace at home. Or maybe fly to a different time zone fast enough.”

  I glance over at Ingram, and then I look down at the way he’s holding my wrist. His grip is surprisingly tender, but at the same time firm and unyielding. He’d seemed wired at first, but now I realize it’s excitement, not panic. It’s almost like he actually wants to do this.

  Suddenly I’m taken back to that moment at the Club, when I faced my own prejudices and beliefs about marriage. And while I haven’t suddenly changed all my beliefs, I can’t help but feel that something’s changed.

  Is it because I’m no longer analyzing marriage as an abstract idea based on statistics and anecdotes and instead looking at it with a specific man in mind? Am I drawn to Ingram because of the heightened urgency and feverish excitement of the day? How can I analyze all the data fast enough to make a decision that’s gonna impact the rest of my life?!

  My breathing starts to quicken, and I shift restlessly on my feet as all those old habits of sitting alone in a room and overthinking my life to death make me sick to my stomach with anxiety. Overthinking and overanalyzing has always been a problem bordering on obsession, but it’s what got me to the top of the corporate world. How can those same skills not work in this situation?!

  “How is this gonna work?” comes Janelle’s voice through my head-chaos. She glares at Ingram and steps towards us like she’s protecting me—or maybe her money. “The two of you said you’d rather die than get married. The two of us said we’d rather kill than get married. So you think if you two get married, you’re not gonna die. And if James and I get married, we’re off the hook for killing you. So that’s it? We do that and everyone gets their money back?”

  Ingram shakes his head and smiles. “No,” he says softly. “My billions are gone forever. And once India marries me, her millions are gone forever too. I think that’s the point of the Society’s games. I think that’s what Mother and Father are trying to show us, that’s the lesson they want us to learn. That money isn’t happiness, wealth isn’t a goal, riches don’t make you rich.” He looks down into my eyes, and I feel the warmth of his gaze cut through the chill in the room. “And there’s only one path to that lesson. You can’t learn it from a book. You can’t learn it by overthinking and overanalyzing. You have to feel its truth. You have to live its truth. And you have to live it forever. With all your commitment. All your heart. All your love.”

  I’m melting like a glacier in the sun, and I feel myself open up to Ingram. What he just said about overthinking and overanalyzing feels like it was meant for me. It’s quieted down my furiously chugging brain, and soon all I can see are Ingram’s eyes, all I can feel is his touch.

  “Heartwarming speech,” James says, making both Ingram and I glare at him like we wish he was dead. “But although you two might be on the way to deciding that having each other is enough, I sure as hell am not waving my billions goodbye and riding off into a happily-ever-after as a broke-ass nobody.”

  “Neither am I,” says Janelle, glaring at James for a moment like she’s offended. “And although the intention would be sweet and romantic in a movie, this is reality, hon. A reality where Mother and Father are criminals with connections and power. James and I still have our money, and we don’t know for sure what will happen at sunrise.”

  “When the sun rises in the East,” I say, absentmindedly repeating Mother and Father’s words. Again the phrasing strikes me as odd, and although I try to dismiss the feeling, it sticks with me.

  “Yeah,” James is saying, glancing at Janelle briefly but long enough to check out her strong curves with approval. “We’re just guessing that getting married will end this game in our favor. But although you’re a betting man, Ingram, I like a sure thing. I can’t just shrug, get married to someone I don’t know, and then wait for Mother and Father’s decision. In fact I should move all my money right now, pull out as much cash as I can just in case.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Janelle says, tapping her phone. “I’m calling my private banker to give them a heads up.”

  Soon both James
and Janelle are talking to their bankers and arranging massive withdrawals. I shake my head when I remember that Mother and Father are probably listening. Interesting that they haven’t wiped out their accounts like they did with me and Ingram. Even more interesting if Mother and Father let them withdraw millions in cash or bearer-bonds or whatever.

  “I guess I’d do the same in your situation,” I say, not sure if I believe what I’m saying. I’m super-aware of Ingram standing next to me, and I can’t help feeling closer and closer to him even though we just met. Every moment I spend in his presence is making that vision of a future with him more clear, clearer than the present reality, brighter, more vivid, like my future self is whispering to me through the mists of space and time.

  “Just in time,” Janelle says, hanging up the phone and smiling in relief. “My banker was about to go home for the day, but she’s gonna take care of things for me.”

  “International Bearer Bonds in million-dollar denominations,” James is saying to his banker. “Clean out all liquid assets. Sell the stocks and bonds on the Asian markets which just opened. Don’t worry about the property and hard assets for now, I guess.” He hangs up and nods. “All right, even if Mother and Father wake up angry and vengeful tomorrow, I’ll still have almost a hundred million in bearer-bonds that can be cashed anywhere in the world.” He looks up at Janelle, his face taut, an edge to his grim smile. “Now we have till sunrise to find Mother and Father and make sure they don’t wake up at all.” He holds up his phone and grins before whispering into it. “You hear that, Mommy and Daddy? Your kids are coming for you, and you need to be afraid. Very fucking afraid.” He nods at Ingram and shoots me a quick glance. “I think we should stick together tonight. We might need each other. We can’t trust the police or FBI until we know more about who Mother and Father are—or at least where they are. Maybe we can trace some of the headers from their texts and get a location.”