Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #2)(12)

by Max Monroe

“Thatcher!” Cassie yelled, apparently having circled the block. “Get over here and get in the car!”

Her smile was ear to ear, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from spreading to my own face. Cassie winked, but it wasn’t at me. Curiosity made me turn around to find the source.

Mila stood there giggling and pointing at Cassie as Cassie pointed back at her.

“What did I say?” Cassie yelled through the open window of the car.

Mila’s little voice was shrill as she shouted back. “Give boys hell!”

“Mila!” Claire admonished, but Frankie just laughed.

“Okay, now I really like her,” he said, referring to my crazy driver. Safe to say he wasn’t the only one.

I’d thrown her into the lion’s den, for fuck’s sake, but she’d flourished. Socializing and mingling without me and owning her yoga pants and T-shirt like a motherfucking gown. I still couldn’t figure out the birthday gift she’d managed to pull from her purse.

She wasn’t actually upset with me over my deceitful directions and unexpected stop; she was just checking in to the game.

With one final kiss to Mila’s and Claire’s cheeks and a fist bump for Frankie, I ran for the car and closed my hand around the door handle just as Cassie gassed it two feet and slammed on the brakes. Her laughter echoed throughout the neighborhood.

“Okay, Mary, let me in the car.”

“Mary!” she shrieked and floored it again.

Frankie, Claire, and Mila looked on, laughing a little more with every exchange.

“You better remember my name, Thatcher. Some other women might not care, but I’m liable to murder you.”

“It’s just a nickname,” I said with a laugh as I finally got the door open.

“A nickname?” she laughed. “Well, I know you don’t mean Mary of the Virgin variety, so you better explain.”

“Poppins,” I clarified, but only after my ass hit the seat and both feet were in. She was more likely to wait for me if she was also waiting on an answer. “Where the hell did you get that Barbie in your purse?”

She shrugged. “Stuff tends to build up in there.”

“A Barbie? What else is in there? Tell me it’s handcuffs and a short skirt.”

She shrugged again like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You better tell me where to go. I’m not good with directions.”

“You just backtrack.”

“All I remember is that your wang hangs left.”

“Not my wang,” I contested through a laugh.

She smiled. “Take it up with the judge.”

“Only if the judge is you,” I teased back.

“Put your boner away, Thatcher. The ruling is final,” she said with a wink and pretended to bang a gavel on the dash. My cock must have been a pretty shitty listener, though, because that fucker did the exact opposite. I shifted in my seat and pointed in the direction she should go.

“Just follow this back around to the right and turn right at the light.”

“Right? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I said with a secret smile.

After she was done, I pointed out the next left, and that was when she really got suspicious.

“Wasn’t the Saw Mill River Parkway back there? I thought I saw a sign.”

“You have to go a different way to get back on,” I lied.

Her eyes narrowed, but she kept driving for another mile before she questioned it.

“I think your wang is fucking busted, Thatcher. I’m not seeing the Parkway anywhere.”

“Oh, you know what?” I said, playing along. “I think you’re right. Just go right up here. You can turn around in this parking lot.”

“Ughhhhhh,” she moaned, and I had to stifle a laugh.

Gravel slid under the tires as she gunned it through the entrance and started to execute her turn. When she was about halfway through her U-turn, I yelled, “Wait! Stop!”

“What?” she shrieked back, slamming forcefully enough on the brakes that we skidded to a stop.

I pulled the door handle to open it and climbed from the car, watching as she did the same before answering. Her eyes were crazy again, and I felt the phantom lasers on my skin. Luckily, the burn of an imaginary laser was pretty mild. “Okay. Don’t be mad, but I wanted a milkshake.”

“Oh, you motherfucker,” she seethed.

With a jaunty wave and a completely unapologetic smile, I turned to head into the ice cream shop, maniacal laughter rumbling my chest all the way to the door.

“Laugh it up now, but that’s the only milkshake you’re gonna see today. And you better fucking believe mine brings all the boys to the yard.”

I’d see about that.

“Get out of the car, Cass,” Thatch demanded, holding the door open with his bear claw of a hand. I stared at it with irrational anger as the size and strength and fucking veins of it did their best to tempt me into mental porn GIF territory.

Fuck you, traitorous tactile teases.

One activity after the next, the giant fucker had tricked me into chauffeuring him around all day. To the party and ice cream, of course, but also to the bank and several rental properties he apparently owned in Queens before taking over behind the wheel. Even then, I had a feeling he’d been tempted to take me to a bar or two, but I’d slurred several sleepy threats to his life and, evidently, one stuck.

Thank fuck.

We were currently sitting in front of his building, and I was more than ready to head back to my place so I could begin my sleep marathon. But he was trying like hell to cockblock me from my bed. After everything he’d put me through today, now he was convinced I was too tired to drive home.

I shook my head. “I know I’m a real joy to be around, but you’ve monopolized enough of my time today. So, move your ass, T-bag. I’m going home.”

He stretched his big arms across the top of the door and the roof of the car and leaned forward, smirking down at me. “Honey, I know you have many talents, but I’m seeing a dilemma with trying to drive from there.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, fighting the gravity of my heavy eyelids. As much as I tried, they wouldn’t open past a squint.

“Pretty sure you need the steering wheel and pedals to get this clown car to move.” He nodded toward the opposite side of the dashboard. “Which just so happens to be over there.”