Bound to the Bad Boy: The Billionaire's Touch, #7

By Evelyn Glass

Bound to the Bad Boy is book 7 of The Billionaire's Touch series. Parts 1-9 can be found everywhere now!

Book 1: Bad Boy in a Suit
Book 2: Bad Boy in the Dark
Book 3: Bad Boy in Control
Book 4: Tied Up by the Bad Boy
Book 5: Pinned Down by the Bad Boy
Book 6: Set Free by the Bad Boy
Book 7: Bound to the Bad Boy
Book 8: Bent for the Bad Boy
Book 9: Given to the Bad Boy

With Olivia dead, suspicion turns to Alex.

The truth she so desperately need is just tantalizingly out of reach, no matter how close it seems. A cliff is dangling in front of her and Alex. If there’s a time for Zoey to figure something out, it has to be now.

Through a stroke of luck, Zoey contacts someone who may be able to help.

But unfortunately, they want nothing to do with her, nothing to do with Alex, and nothing to do with the insanity that is crashing down all around.

This is Zoey's dark night of the soul.

When a security detail is sent to make sure Zoey stays safe from it all, she is finally confronted with the reality that she has stumbled into: a reality that started like a dream but now has become a living nightmare. The only thing left tethering her to the world she once knew now is Alex, and together they’ll wait for the dawn—whatever it brings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Dec 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386688587

Book preview

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BOUND TO THE BAD BOY: The Billionaire’s Touch (Book 7)

By Evelyn Glass

EVERYTHING STARTED like a dream, but now I’m in a living nightmare.

All I want is to go back.

To a time when I didn’t know Alex.

A time when I was ignorant of this horrid world I’ve stepped into

A time when Alex was just another sexy stranger in a mask at the Chez Vous.

But I’ve come too far. Seen too much.

Know things I was never supposed to know.

And now, no matter how much I beg and plead.

I know I can never go back.

I know I can never leave Alex.

He’s going to make me his.

Every inch—from head to toe.

He’ll lash me to the bed, shut the door, and NEVER let me go.

CHAPTER ONE

As Zoey pushed her way through the cops blocking the door to Olivia’s apartment, part of her reflected on the odd symmetry that was playing out. It was just days since she’d been shaking on Cindy’s couch, terrified of doing or saying anything. When Helen called her, letting her know that she’d heard from unconfirmed sources that Olivia Blankenship was dead, and given everything that had happened around AEGIS these past few weeks, her son had been asked to stay at the scene and answer a few questions. No one is saying he’s been detained, Helen clarified carefully. As if that was enough to stop her heart slamming against her ribs like a baseball fired from a pitching machine.

She’d called Luke and told him she was coming and told him to make sure that no one got in her way. She didn’t really expect it to do anything, but the cops parted when she pushed through instead of trying to hold her back. Either they knew she was coming, or they were just shocked at her pushing so hard and fast through the thick of things.

She hated Olivia’s apartment the moment she walked through the door. The London apartment had been furnished in similar taste, all modern with clean lines and cold colors, but this was a place where she’d theoretically tried to raise children. There was nothing here that was warm or kind or loving, and the thought of Alex trying to figure out how to care for anyone here—how to be valued as a person and not just an asset for a company—turned her stomach.

Inside the door, an officer finally tried to stop her, or at least slow her down, but she dodged the woman easily. In what seemed like another lifetime, she would have already been shouting questions, demanding information, and trying to get whatever she could out of her prospective source before she was hustled back out the door. It had always shocked her that the technique worked. Everyone knew that you weren’t supposed to talk to the press, but everyone always thought that they’d be the one to keep their words in line, to say everything right, to make sure that nothing they said could be twisted or turned to tell the story the reporter wanted to sell.

The officer did try to box her in, moving like a basketball player who knew they weren’t allowed to foul, but Zoey dodged. Where is he? She shouted. Alex Blankenship, where is he? I need to see him.

The man who came around the corner and faced her wore Alex’s face, but it wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. I’m right here, he said, his voice disgustingly calm. There’s no need to shout.

In her mind, she’d had a whole plan. She was going to stand firm, give him what he needed, be supportive, and create a space of calm contemplation around him so that he could breathe. It was what he’d done for her, and it had been very much what she needed. She’d expected to see him a total wreck; after all, it was his mother who’d died. Helen hadn’t been able to find out any details on the how yet, and hadn’t wanted to wait any longer before letting Zoey in on what she did know.

But he wasn’t a wreck. He didn’t even look upset. He wasn’t wearing the same clothes he’d been in when he left the penthouse, and that was strange. She’d been around him enough that she was sure that the clothes he wore hadn’t been bought for him. The shirt was a little too tight in the shoulders, the pants too loose in the thighs.

I—Helen called me. I was worried. She sounded like a child, and she hated it so much that the words caught in her throat.

Luke was standing behind Alex, his face carefully neutral.

David’s still downstairs with the car, Alex said. Why don’t you go ahead and wait there? I’m sure I’ll be down soon. Or you can have him drive you back to the penthouse, and I’ll call him when Luke and I are done talking. His gaze drifted into middle distance for a moment, and he shook his head. I’m going to have to schedule a damn press conference. Of all the weeks for me to fire my assistant...

What? Why did you fire her?

That’s exactly what we were just discussing, Luke interjected, looking none too happy that Zoey was here at all. Thanks for dropping by to check on your boytoy, Ms. Gardener, but the police have actual work to do.

You can’t flip off the police commissioner, she reminded herself firmly, no matter how much he deserves it. You absolutely cannot. But God, did he ever deserve it.

Alex gave Luke a superior look that was almost as effective. Well, it didn’t do anything, which is about what she figured flipping him off would do. Grow up, Pyramus, Alex said, his voice as condescending as she’d ever heard from him. Let the big kids talk for a minute, okay?

Luke’s complexion darkened with rage, but he stepped back into the living room. Alex came closer to Zoey, glaring at the police officer until she backed away. What are you doing here? He asked, his voice nothing close to kind or caring. How did you even find out about this? The police haven’t made any statements to the press. Luke swore to me.

His hand was on her arm, and it hurt. Not a lot, but enough. She shook it loose, mostly to make a point. Then someone in the building called, and gave the gossip rags just enough to piece together a story that at least makes logical sense. I didn’t stop to ask where Helen had gotten her information.

I don’t need you here, he said. I can’t be worried about you right now. You’re a liability to me, Zoey.

She rocked back on her heels, more shaken than if he’d slapped her. He saw it, and he softened for just a moment. Far back in his eyes, so far back that she wasn’t sure if he could even feel it, she could see the shattered little boy who was crying for his mother. The anger in her heart didn’t go away, but it was tempered. Just a little. What do you need?

His eyes shifted again, back to that blank CEO mask that she hated. Do you really want to know?

Yes.

He nodded. Go back to the penthouse. I’m going to text you a number. Call it, say that I picked the blue one. When I get back home, wear what you’re sent.

She stared at him, her heart smacking her ribs again. Are you seriously planning on getting laid right now?

Someone has killed my mother, he said, through gritted teeth, "and all the self-control I have is being directed towards not fucking shredding these lying bastards who keep insisting that she killed herself. Someone is shredding my family to bits, and the only thing I can think to do right now is to keep you safe. I need to come home and know that you’re going to be there, and that I can take you, and I will be alive to do it. And if that’s sick and twisted, I don’t much care right now. You asked. You asked. You don’t get to be mad at me if my shit is too dark for you."

There weren’t any words, so she slipped up onto her toes and kissed him. She managed to keep the gesture soft and light for a moment, but the hunger was gnarling through him, twisting him into crumbled shards. She understood, then. He didn’t dare to feel anger or fear or sadness, but he could feel lust. God, could he ever. So he could transmute the emotions, and express them the only way he knew how, and he was asking for her help with that.

The man needed a goddamn shrink like nobody’s business, but in the meantime, if he wanted to play? Yeah, she could be okay with that. She nipped at his lower lip, and the sound he made—no one else was close enough to hear it—made her suddenly very aware of the soaked cotton of her panties and wondering if she could justify playing with herself in the back of the town car as David drove her back to the penthouse. It’s not too dark, she managed to whisper. If that’s what you need, it’s yours. But I won’t promise not to play with myself. It could be hours before you get home.

His lips bent in what would be