Billion Dollar Love

by Sam Crescent

  “People say she died of a broken heart,” his assistant, Damir, said solemnly. He held out a folder. “But the coroner says differently.”

  Alex took the folder and opened it. “This is the autopsy results. Why do you have it?”

  “I took the trouble to have it translated. The English text is on the other page.”

  Alex flipped the top page over and read what Damir had typed up.

  “This says it was suicide,” Alex said. “Poison? How would she even know what to use?”

  “It’s not hard to find help for something like that,” Damir murmured.

  “What do you mean? Like what?” Alex demanded.

  “Depression. Look at the second paragraph.”

  Alex glanced down and saw the word pregnancy. His little sister had been pregnant? When? By whom? She would’ve had to have conceived while she’d been in Saudi Arabia.

  Catherine had been thirteen years younger, a surprise to his mother, whose boyfriend had walked out once he’d found about the upcoming child. He hadn’t really connected to his sister, hellbent on doing all he could to get out of the poverty he’d grown up in. He hadn’t had a relationship with his sister until years later, and now he was left with sense of guilt that he hadn’t done more for her. Staring down at her lifeless body, he willed her eyes to open.

  They remained shut.

  “I don’t understand why she didn’t come to me. Being an unwed mother means nothing nowadays.”

  “It means something here,” Damir replied. “My country has made strides in female equality, but it’s still a very patriarchal society. Perhaps she didn’t want to shame you.”

  “I have never and would never care about that!” His voice rang through the cold room.

  “Of course,” Damir said soothingly, like he was trying to calm a wounded animal. “I’ve also heard the name of the man who did this to her.”

  That proclamation had Alexander spinning around. “Who?”

  “The American engineer who had been here last month, working on the plant. Peter Jensen.”

  Alexander’s mind raced to recall the man, but honestly couldn’t remember a thing except an engineer had come out to work on a small area of his refinery. He’d been in Saudi Arabia for the better part of a year, creating an oil deal that would net him more money than Croesus. Apparently, Peter Jensen had been that engineer, and now with his departure Catherine lay dead.

  “Find out everything about him,” Alexander said coldly. “I want to know his entire history within the hour. And prepare my sister for the journey back to the States. She’ll be laid to rest next to our mother.”

  Damir bowed.

  ****

  Alex sat in his study, a glass of whiskey in one hand as he read through the file Damir had obtained. The one fact that jumped out at him was the fact that Peter Jensen had a sister the exact same age Catherine had been. Only his sister would never see another birthday.

  A plan began to form.

  If he couldn’t save his sister, he would avenge her.

  Chapter One

  “Abigail! You have a call!”

  Shutting off the water in the sink, Abigail shook off the excess droplets clinging to her hands before heading toward the office. She picked up the phone handset and put it to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Abbi?”

  She recognized her brother’s voice immediately. “Peter! Hello! How are you? How’s Saudi Arabia? And don’t say it’s full of sand.”

  “I’m good. It’s … good. I guess. I’m not there anymore.”

  Something sounded off in his tone. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

  “I … I got fired,” Peter said. “They just—they didn’t even tell me why. Just some bullshit story that I wasn’t performing up to task. But I don’t see how that was. I always finished my work on time, and it passed all inspections. I’m at a loss for words.”

  “Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, can I crash at your place for a few days? I need to regroup and find a new company.”

  “Sure,” she replied immediately, not even hesitating. “My couch is always yours.”

  “Thanks, sis. I’m flying in tomorrow so should be there in the evening.”

  “Okay. Be safe. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Abigail hung up and started at the phone for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought about the conversation. Peter always had glowing reports on his engineering work abroad, although the technical jargon sounded like Klingon to her. She still to this day didn’t know exactly what he did on the oil refineries, only that he made one aspect of them run smoothly.

  “Everything okay?” her supervisor asked from the doorway.

  Abigail turned and shrugged. “Peter’s okay, but he lost his job. He’s coming to stay with me.”

  “Sorry to hear that. That he lost his job, that is, not the coming to visit part. Your last customer of the day arrived.”

  Abigail shook off the unexpected sadness. “Coming.”

  She followed her boss out of the office and saw her regular Friday afternoon client, a small pug named Lulubelle. The old girl tried to wag her tail, but it ended up being more like shaking her whole back end since the dog was round like a ball.

  “How’s my little Lulubelle doing?” Abigail murmured in baby talk to the dog. “Ready for your wash?”

  She waved at the owner and took the leash, leading the pug to her station. Being a dog groomer might not be glamorous, and she might not make a lot of money, but she enjoyed her work and was able to support herself. Taking care of animals was a passion she’d been able to turn into a living, and not many people were able to say that.

  Still, the thought of Peter nagged at her in the back of her mind. He had worked damned hard to become an engineer, and to know he’d been fired from a job he loved hurt her heart.

  ****

  When Abigail made it home that night she stopped at the mailbox. The only one she had was an official looking letter. Opening it up, she noticed it was from a law office. Quickly scanning the contents, her heart stuttered with dread.

  Eviction notice.

  The management had sold the property. She had sixty days to relocate. The world suddenly seemed off its axis, and she had to lean against the wall for a moment. First Peter lost his job, and now with her soon-to-be homelessness it seemed like her world was tumbling head over heels. What the hell was happening?

  She spent the rest of the evening trying to get in touch with anyone who could answer questions, but no one wanted to talk. The next morning, she called off to talk to the apartment staff, but again, no one had any answers. Only the small clause in her contract gave permission for the abrupt termination of her lease, citing new management had the right to renegotiate if they so wished.

  And they didn’t wish to do so.

  She went to work with a heavy heart. Moving wasn’t fun, and it was expensive. It would take all her savings to relocate. Pushing the depression down, she reached deep for the optimism that had always carried her through whatever difficulties she faced and devoted herself to grooming the pets that came in. Washing, clipping nails, giving haircuts, Abigail loved taking care of the animals. Most of the time it was dogs that came through, but every once in a while, she got a cat or a turtle. Using non-toxic water-based paint, she would design happy pictures on the shells that lasted until the next washing.

  Not wanting to go home and think about moving, she headed for the local ice cream parlor and headed inside, getting a scoop of her favorite, caramel ribbon. Sitting outside, she watched the cars drive by, her mind trying to sort out what to do next. Deep in thought, she barely registered someone sitting down at the small table next to hers until the man cleared his throat.

  “Excuse me, can you hand me a napkin?”

  Startled, Abigail glanced over, and her breath caught in her throat. Royal blue eyes, the color of sapphires, stared intently at her, one e
yebrow arched. Chiseled cheekbones, a bold slash of a nose, and full lips that curled ever so slightly at the corner completed the magnetic presence. He pointed at the napkin box on her table, and Abigail blinked, staring stupidly at it until sanity kicked in and she handed the entire thing over.

  “Thanks,” he said, sounding amused. No doubt he was used to being ogled by strange women all day. “Ice cream melts quickly here.”

  “Yeah,” she managed to say. “It’s hot. Very hot. Ice cream doesn’t like heat.”

  Shut up! You’re sounding stupid! Her brain and mouth clearly weren’t communicating because once the words came out, they couldn’t stop.

  “You can eat it inside. Air conditioning. Better than the heat. I guess you’re not from Vegas? We’re only hot in July and August. Sometimes in September. Sometimes in June, depending how bad winter is.”

  In an effort to stop the rambling, she stuck the ice cream cone in her face to lick off the melting sides. She was horrible at small talk, made worse when the man was sexy as hell. He smiled once more, as if hearing the babble filtering in her head, and butterflies erupted in her belly. Attraction hit her hard between the eyes.

  “I’m Alex,” he said, holding out his hand. “Alex Paul.”

  Heart racing, Abigail took it. Tingles shot up her arm, fanning out through her body. She’d always read about insta-lust, where a single look caused damp panties and weak knees, but Abigail had never believed it until now. Now she understood all the romance books. If this man told her to suck him off, she would be on her knees so fast it’d give him whiplash.

  “Hi,” she said, throat dry.

  “And you are?”

  “Oh! Abigail. My name is Abigail Jensen.”

  “Hmmm … I like that. You don’t hear many old-fashioned names anymore.”

  She silently thanked her parents for being older and giving into their basic old-fashioned ideas.

  “Did you, um, just move here?” she asked.

  “I’m visiting,” he replied. “From overseas. I have a few business ventures in the States, so I’m in Vegas for a series of meetings.”

  He tugged on his hand. She didn’t let go, at least, not until he tugged a little harder the second time around and looked pointedly at their still joined hands. Abigail felt her face heating up as she reluctantly let him go. His skin had felt nice against hers.

  “So what do you do, Abigail?”

  “I work at The Pet Center, as an animal groomer.”

  “That sounds like a fun job.”

  “I enjoy what I do,” she said. “My clients are the best.”

  “That’s all that matters, right?”

  He smiled again, sending another round of tingly feelings right to her core. She crossed her legs in an effort to settle the ache that had developed between her thighs. Already she knew she was going to have to break out her vibrator tonight to relieve the tension mounting through her body.

  Alex shifted forward a little, his ice cream seemingly forgotten as it melted into the napkin. “What are you doing this evening, Abigail?”

  She blinked. “I, ah … well, nothing. Showering, watching television.”

  Masturbating.

  “Would you like to go out?”

  “Out? Like, on a date?”

  “Yes. Surely you’ve been on a date before.”

  She flushed even more and had the horrible thought she might resemble a tomato. It didn’t take much for her fair, lightly freckled skin to turn bright red.

  “I don’t even know you,” she managed to say, even though it was on the tip of her tongue to say yes. Sanity jumped in at the last minute.

  “Oh, right.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “You can call my office, if you’d like. Get a reference.”

  She wasn’t completely sure, but she thought she detected a mocking tone in his voice. For a moment, a flash of derision entered his amazing blue eyes, sending out a caution sign. It was on the tip of her tongue to say no when he offered her a compromise.

  “I understand,” he said. “I could be a dangerous man for all you know. How about meeting in a public place? We could have a nice dinner, some drinks. I’m new to the area, and I’d love to spend time with a beautiful woman.”

  Abigail almost looked behind her to see what beautiful woman he meant. It dawned on her that he was talking about her. The man was either blind or a very smooth operator. She had sneaky feeling it was the second, but her hormones wanted to have round two, so she nodded.

  “Okay,” she heard herself say. The logical part of her brain called her an idiot, but the feminine side gave a huge sigh of lustful appreciation. “Do you like Chinese?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s a hole-in-the-wall place called the Lucky Chopstick on Sahara and Jones. It’s got great food.”

  He pulled out his phone, typed a few things, and nodded. “Found it. How about we meet up in a couple of hours? I should go to my place and clean up.”

  “All right,” she said.

  Alex rose and dumped his uneaten cold treat into the nearby trash can. “Then I’ll see you there, Abigail.”

  He left without looking back once, and she couldn’t help but stare at his jean-clad butt, mentally betting she could bounce a quarter off that tight ass. Did that whole conversation really happen? Did she just get a date with one of the sexiest men she’d ever seen? A literal stranger?

  Her ice cream cone was a thing of the past, having melted all in her napkins, so she threw it away. Looking down at his business card, she got the impression he was in sales. Just visiting, he’d said. Would he be in and out of her life in a flash? Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. In fact, she could count on one hand the number of boyfriends she’d had since her parents had let her start dating, and she’d never, ever, had a one-night stand. Would Alex be her first? Could she handle a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em fling?

  Suddenly, she needed to shower and shave her legs. Wash her hair. Pluck her eyebrows. And what the hell was she going to wear? One thing was for certain, time to break out her sexy panties. No way would she wear her comfortable ones that never rode up her crack. One-night stands never wanted to see those types of undies.

  Chapter Two

  This was crazy. She was crazy.

  Abigail stared at herself in her bedroom mirror, criticizing the sundress she wore and the make-up she had put on. Now that her hormones weren’t talking, sanity had returned. A whole television channel existed because of dumb decisions women made, and she dithered from meeting with him to not showing up. She had his business card, but what did it prove? Nothing.

  What if he was some crazy stalker?

  Serial killer?

  Her cell phone rang, distracting her from a monumental choice that could possibly get her raped or killed. She glanced down at the caller and saw Peter’s smiling face, and memory returned. This was the night he was flying in to stay with her.

  “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” she cried into the phone. Relief swamped her, taking the decision out of her hands. Alex the handsome, sexy stranger was off the table, and since she’d never see him again, she didn’t have to worry about any awkward situations.

  “If you forgot, no worries. I can Uber to your place.”

  “No, no, no. I’m coming to pick you up. Leaving right now.”

  She turned away from the mirror and hurried through her small apartment, grabbing her purse as she exited out the door.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. You saved me from making a terrible regret.”

  “Oh? Do tell.”

  “Just a date.”

  Peter chuckled. “You are allowed to date, you know. You’re thirty-five.”

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me. I can hear Mom in my ear saying we want grandkids! How come they never bug you about that?”

  “Who says they don’t?”

  “You’re older, so you have to go first.”

  “Come on, now. Not really feasib
le in my situation.”

  “What? Being a good-looking bachelor? Anyway, I’m getting ready to drive now. I should be at the airport in about thirty minutes. Good thing I don’t live that far away.”

  “Then I’ll see you in a bit. Thanks, sis.”

  “Anytime.”

  As she hung up, Alex tried to intrude in her thoughts, but she pushed him away. It was great to have the memory of him flirting with her, but when all was said and done, she’d made the right decision.

  ****

  Alex waited impatiently for Abigail Jensen, his fingers drumming on the cheap table surface. When he had approached her this afternoon, he half wondered if she’d recognized him from the numerous magazines he’d appeared in, but all he saw mirrored on her face was desire. If he was being truthful, he had felt the same pull, the same simmering lust that appeared in her dark gaze. And he didn’t like it. This was the woman he was determined to destroy, perhaps not in the same fashion as Catherine had been destroyed, but it was all related. All connected. Peter Jensen had taken something from him, and no matter how attractive he found Abigail, he had to stay focused.

  So far, so good. Peter had lost his job, and Abigail was now facing eviction. All because he had carefully constructed a revenge narrative that he had to see through. The final stage was to have her fall in love with him, and then he’d cruelly and coldly walk away. Leaving her with nothing but a broken heart.

  Just like Catherine.

  He checked his watch. She was over ten minutes late, and he had a feeling it was a deliberate act. Instinct told him she wasn’t going to show, and he tried to digest the fact that for the first time in his life, he’d been stood up. If he wasn’t on such a meticulously planned schedule, that fact might amuse him. Now the question remained, did she not show because she got savvy to who he was, or was she as devious as her brother?

  He rose and handed the waitress a twenty, even though he didn’t order anything. He’d taken up enough of her time, and he wanted to do what was fair. He may have money now, but once upon a time his mother had worked as a waitress trying to support him and his sister. Now, he was all that was left of his family.