Hot Tycoons Boxset (Contemporary Romance Boxset)

by Emelia Blair

  My lips part as I struggle to hold in the tears; when I see the understanding on his face, and when he opens his arms, I rush into them, sobbing.

  He lets me cry on him, holding me close. My sobs are silent, my heart shattering all over again. He doesn’t let go, letting me hold on to him for as long as I need.

  When I finally pull away, he winces. “I swear, if you wiped your nose on my coat again—”

  My sniffles dissolve into reluctant laughter. “That was one time.”

  His scowl fades, and he asks me simply, “How are you holding up?”

  I grab a tissue from beside him. “I’ll be okay. He came in here.” When Zayn’s face darkens, I hastily add, “He wanted to tell me that he has feelings for me too.”

  “Did you tell them to shove them up his—”

  “Yes, I did,” I nod, and this time the laughter is easier.

  He grins. “I can still break one of his legs for you.”

  Sighing, I lean next to him on the desk and say, “Aren’t you supposed to be his friend first?”

  He shrugs. “Breaking your heart is a deal breaker. Besides, you get so needy when you get upset.”

  “Hey!” I growl, insulted, smacking him on the shoulder. “I do not.”

  Zayn smirks. “You want to spend more time together. You force me to watch all these cheesy chick flicks. I shouldn’t know all the lines to ‘A Walk to Remember!’” Comfortable silence ensues, and then he asks, “So, what do you plan on doing? You can’t ignore him forever.”

  I entwine my fingers together. “I love him, Zayn. But there was trust there, with him, that he broke. I know he has feelings for me, but this hurt is so deep, I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “So, start over.” Zayn’s words are simple, and I stare at the floor. “Ian’s a complicated man, Agatha. He might be smart and intelligent, yadda yadda, but when it comes to you, he’s always messing up. I mean, if you want to have a go at him with the bat, I can hold him down for you.”

  I chuckle at the image. “I appreciate the offer.”

  Zayn stands up and turns around to face me, his face serious, no snark in it. “We’re family. I have always considered you my family. Which is why I want the truth. What are you hiding from us?”

  I know what he is asking, and I close my eyes. “Fine. But it stays between us. And before you start throwing a fit, you need to know that I’m going to handle this.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes intent. “All right.”

  I take a deep breath. “I think I have a stalker.”

  When his eyes flash and his jaw tightens, I continue, “There have been odd gifts. It started with flowers, but then it became things more personal. When you—” I take a shuddering breath, “—when I had you pick me up the other day, there was a man outside, wearing a dark hoodie and a clown mask. And he was looking up at me. Then I got a message about the color of my clothes.”

  “Have you seen him again?” Zayn asks, and I shake my head.

  Then, I hesitate. “Lately, I always feel like somebody’s watching me; like I’m never entirely alone.” Zayn begins to prowl around the room as I continue, reluctantly, “That’s why I got all these things. And the door.”

  “Did you keep the gifts?” he asks from where he is studying the books on the shelf in the corner.

  I wrap my arms around myself. “Not in the beginning. Lately, I’ve started. They’re in a cupboard in the kitchen area. I burned one or two of them because they were too much.”

  Zayn is walking around my office like he is searching for something. He looks under the table but finds nothing. A snarl from his end and I hear him pick up one of the vases from on top of the table and smash it on the ground, making me jump. “What the hell?”

  He leans down and picks up a small black device. Looking up at me, he says, grimly, “Well, you weren’t wrong about feeling watched all the time. Somebody planted a miniature camera here.”

  The room spins as it hits me that my every move is being watched. Terror creeps up my spine, slow, chilling fingers making their way up. I grip the back of the chair in front of me.

  Zayn straightens and glances around the room. “I bet there’s more where this came from.”

  A thorough search unearths two other cameras. By the end of it, Zayn looks thunderous. As he places the cameras on my desk, I know that he is struggling not to crush the tiny devices in his hands.

  “You expect me to keep this from your brother?”

  The words are a hiss and I know what he is saying makes sense. “I’ll talk to Philip, but the—”

  “Philip will put you under lock and key. He’ll have one of the teams from our company following you around.” Zayn walks over to the blinds and peeks out. “There is a snowball’s chance in hell that Fergus and Ian wouldn’t figure out something is wrong. I’m curious.” He turns to look at me. “How exactly did you plan to fix this?”

  His tone is bordering on cold anger, but I hold my ground, clamping down on my fear. “Henry. I am going to call Henry tonight.”

  “The new commissioner?” I nod my head in a jerk. Zayn doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he pockets the cameras and says, “Come on. I’ll take you home. Grab what you need.”

  The day was a long one, and mentally, I am drained. Hence, I don’t put much of a fight.

  The drive is quiet, and I have a feeling that Zayn plans to use my guest bedroom again. What I’m not expecting is to see Ian in my building lobby, clearly waiting for me.

  Zayn raises a brow on seeing him and asks me, “I have a bat in the car, if you’re interested?”

  Ian gives him an odd look. “It’s one in the morning. What are you two doing?”

  “I am dropping her home,” Zayn tells him, a pleasant smile on his face that reeks of trouble. “But I think I’ll leave now. I’m sure you and Agatha have a lot to talk about.” I open my mouth, but he doesn’t give me a chance to speak, saying, “If you don’t talk to Philip by morning, I will.”

  I fume at the hanging threat but relent when I see the worry in his eyes. Even I am not going to let my stupidity get in the way of my safety, so I nod. “I’ll call him right now.”

  “What’s going on?” Ian asks, looking at the two of us.

  Zayn gives him a cold look. “Ask Agatha. But make sure to lock the door in case you have the urge to run away again.”

  Ian’s eyes narrow and I immediately step in between them. “That’s enough. Zayn, this isn’t your fight. I’m not coming between the two of you.”

  Zayn glowers at me and then rolls his eyes. “Fine. Your headache.” To Ian, he shrugs and says, “I’ll still hold you down if she decides to beat you up. Just saying.”

  Ian nods, their friendship like an elastic band, snapping back into place. “Philip suggested ruining my face, but that’s the only thing going for me right now, so…”

  “Good point,” Zayn agrees, and then starts walking away, leaving the two of us behind. “I’ll tell Philip to send you a ride in the morning.”

  Oh yeah. My car is still parked outside my office.

  I stare at Ian, who doesn’t seem to show any signs of budging. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m trying this new thing called groveling.”

  I sigh and start walking towards the elevator. “Why can’t you just let this go, Ian?”

  He grabs me by the arm, forcing me to stop and look at him. The misery in his eyes makes me still. “I can’t stand the thought of you hurting, Agatha. I messed up. I know I did. I’ve been doing that a lot recently where you’re concerned. You’re more than a friend to me. You’re one of the most important people in my life. When I kissed you, it wasn’t just your feelings that put my back up.” He closes his eyes for a heartbeat. “I started realizing my own, and it scared the shit out of me.”

  He releases my arm and runs a frustrated hand through his hair, managing to untangle the small elastic band that keeps his red hair tied, making his hair fall around his face, fr
aming all those sharp angles. “You’re not just some random woman. You’re you. What if I screw up our friendship? What if we suck at being in a relationship? What if I make you miserable?”

  A part of me softens on hearing the despair in his words. It also satisfies a part of me that I am not alone in my suffering. I recall Zayn’s words to start again, and I hesitate. Letting out a whoosh of air, I mutter, “Come on. I’ve got an apple pie in the fridge.”

  “Does this mean…?”

  His voice is hopeful, and I narrow my eyes at him. “No, you’re not forgiven.”

  “Then…?” The question hangs in the air.

  I turn my back on him and start walking towards the elevator. “Because I don’t want to be alone in my apartment right now.”

  To his credit, he doesn’t ask any questions, just follows me. As we stand in the moving elevator, I can feel his eyes boring into my back.

  He doesn’t utter a word on seeing my biometric alarm system, but I can see his eyes taking in all the changes: the closed curtains, the changed locks.

  I dump my bag on the floor and pick up Storm, my gray tabby, who mews a welcome to Ian before settling in my arms.

  “Locks, biometric alarm systems, self-defense equipment.” I am leaning down to take out a beer for him from the fridge, and I freeze mid-action at his words. I can’t identify the emotion in his voice. “What are you scared of, Agatha?”

  I slowly straighten, trying to think of how to tell him and not aggravate the situation. Popping off the lid, I hand him the beer. “There’s a small situation going on.”

  He doesn’t sit down, his eyes on me. “How small?”

  “I may have a stalker.”

  The way Ian grips the bottle in his hands makes me fear that he is going to shatter it. His eyes grow dark in anger, the gold specks becoming more obvious.

  What did I expect?

  His next question takes me by surprise. “Why are you so calm about this?”

  I put some soup in the microwave and set it on mouth-burning hot. I turn to him. “I’ve had a month to get used to it.”

  “This has been going for a month?” He throws all caution to the wind, his voice hard. No longer is he walking on eggshells around me. “What the fucking hell, Agatha?”

  My lips thin into a line. “I didn’t know it was a stalker at first. I thought the flowers and everything were from an admirer or something. Anonymous gifts don’t scream stalker to me every time.”

  “So, what? Did you plan to wait him out?” Ian practically shouts at me.

  I growl at him. “I did try to tell you! I called you that night, you asshole! And you brushed me aside like an insignificant insect. I was scared out of my fucking mind! Don’t you dare turn this around on me!”

  Ian stills and then breathes out slowly. “That’s what you meant when I came to see you today.”

  He stares at the bottle in his hand, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t even think about throwing that against the wall.”

  He slowly puts the bottle down on the coffee table beside him. “Who else knows?” I rub my hands over my face, suddenly feeling the strain of the day catching up.

  “Zayn. He came to pick me up that day I called you.” Recounting details make it even more real and I see the fury amass in Ian’s eyes, alongside a creeping fear, as I tell him bits and pieces about the figure outside and the kind of gifts. “Zayn dragged it out of me today. I have to call Philip and tell him.” I sit down on the long couch that faces the flat screen television, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Before you lose your shit at me, just know that Zayn already yelled at me. I was going to call Henry. I didn’t plan on putting myself in danger. I’m not stupid.”

  When Ian doesn’t say anything, I become more wracked with nerves, and keep trying to fill the silence. “You guys would have insisted I move in with one of you, and I don’t want that. I hate being dependent on other people, even if it’s you all.” Ian is still silent, and his silence puts me on edge. “Say something, dammit!”

  “Well, you clearly have a handle on this. I don’t see why you even need to tell us about it.” His voice is cool.

  “Excuse me?” I stare at him. “You have no right to be—”

  “Angry?” he interrupts, his eyes flashing with rage. “You are being harassed by a stalker who knows where you live and where you work, who’s been following you around, but your pride comes before your safety! You have four people in your life who would drop everything if you just ask, but you can’t do that, can you? Because God forbid Agatha McCoy ask another human being for help!”

  I gape at him, but he doesn’t let me get a word in. “So I was a dick. I get it. You want to rub my face in it a little more, be my guest! I deserve it. But what about Fergus who thinks of you as his little sister? Or Philip? He actually is your brother! Even Zayn had to force you to tell him. Would you have preferred we wake up to the news that you are dead in your apartment or that somebody broke in and hurt you? Would that have satisfied your ego?”

  The cruel blows rain on me, one after the other, and for the second time today, I feel the tears brimming in my eyes. I lower my head because I don’t want him to see me cry.

  He is right.

  I know he is. I should have told them when I had suspected something was wrong.

  I feel the couch sink with his weight as he sits down next to me and pulls me into his arms, begging softly, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. You’re already going through… Please don’t cry.”

  I try to pull away. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I should have—”

  He curses when a tear falls down my cheek. “I wasn’t trying to make you cry, Agatha.”

  In a quick movement, he has me in his lap. Feeling strangely raw and vulnerable after such a tumultuous day, the way his fingers untie my braid and run through my hair, it makes me feel shy. I try to get up, but he isn’t having any of it.

  “I’m tired of being on the outs with you. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t work. I’m sorry for being a coward. But I won’t run away anymore. I love you, Agatha.”

  His words are something I have longed to hear for so long but right now, I can’t bring myself to put my faith in the heart he is offering me. He must see the doubt on my face, as he forces me to look at him, saying seriously, “This isn’t something I’m just saying, Agatha. I mean it. I’ve loved you for a long time. You’ve always been special to me; I just never had a name for all those feelings. And now I do. The risk of losing you taught me what I need to know. I love you. And I can say it as many times as you want ‘til you believe me. These past few days have been hell.”

  I force my tears back.

  I am not a crier.

  But it seems that is all I was doing today.

  “I’m still mad at you,” I tell him, my voice thick.

  He leans down and brushes his mouth against mine, his lips curved up slightly. “I know.”

  The taste of his lips is rejuvenating, and the electricity that flows through my body at the mere touch has me shuddering.

  His lips leave mine far too soon. I sigh, missing the contact.

  His gaze is serious. “If you don’t want to leave your home, I’ll stand by your decision. But this is something we all need to discuss. There’s someone targeting you, Agatha. And we don’t know how dangerous this person is.”

  7

  Ian

  “Fergus is going to kill me.”

  I look over at Agatha where she sits at the kitchen counter, a sullen look on her face. “Better you face everyone at the same time rather than getting everyone mad at you at different times.”

  Philip’s reaction this morning when Agatha made the call had been an insistence that she move in with him and Charlotte effective immediately, something which Agatha fought against. He threatened to kick her ass for keeping something like this from him. The video call had resulted in a full-blown fight before I had to step in.

  Philip wasn’t to
o pleased at seeing me here as well. However, we both knew that while I am around, there is no way that Agatha’s stalker will approach her. I always carry a concealed weapon with me, and I know how to handle myself in a fight. He gave me a begrudging nod.

  Fergus and Zayn agreed to meet at Agatha’s for breakfast. Philip was in Seattle for business, but he ditched his meeting and is flying back. Sarah is at her job, and Charlotte was ordered bed rest because of the difficult pregnancy, so the two women who Agatha counted on to have her back weren’t going to be here.

  I rub her back comfortingly. “It won’t be that bad.”

  “I hate getting yelled at.” She looks down at her coffee gloomily.

  “I’m aware,” I say, dryly.

  She sips at the coffee, and I hide my yawn. It’s nine in the morning, and both of us took the morning off from work. I didn’t sleep much last night. Even though Agatha hides it, I can see how much her life has been altered within this last month. She wears a baggy top, but I held her last night, and it didn’t escape my notice that she had lost weight.

  It does make me wonder when she started hiding her problems. She will often complain about small things, enough to never let any of us notice that aside from the small inconveniences, she had started shutting us out of major problems, things that mattered, like when her cat, Blinkey, passed away two years ago. Philip found out after his grandmother told him, months later. Agatha had that cat since she had been a child and she had chosen to grieve alone.

  She is a complicated person, hiding her feelings beneath a snarky attitude.

  It took her a few hours to get to bed. I took the guest bedroom, but sleep eluded me, worry about Agatha eating at my mind. I hadn’t thought she would let me into her bed. It also hadn’t escaped my notice that she hadn’t responded to my feelings.

  It bothers me, but that isn’t what’s important right now, so I set it aside.

  But as I hand her a plate, I press a kiss to her cheek. When she turns her head to say something, I capture her mouth in a hot kiss that is sweet as well as highly erotic, making my pants uncomfortable.