by Snow, Nicole
Wow. That’s something considering Magnus wants to kill their father.
“He is?”
“Yeah. He told me we were going to his fancy hotel with an indoor pool and stuff until Mom could get out of the hospital, but then he took me to the Virgin Islands. I was scared. I wanted to get off the plane when we were still on the runway, but he wouldn’t let me.”
Oh, God. My heart climbs into my throat and I’m shaking my head.
“He said I had to leave it all behind. Chicago, school, Mom...he said it was always meant to happen, and if I wanted to be rich like him, I had to let go,” he continues. “Dude kept me under lock and key with bodyguards. Freaked me the hell out.”
Inside the cafe, I spot my laptop still sitting on the table I was at with the messenger bag dangling beside it. A few pounds lift off my chest.
“I’m sorry, Jordan. That must’ve been awful. You were always in good hands. Your brother had some kick-ass people watching out for you. I knew he’d make sure you’re safe.” Whatever else he is, Mag isn’t the kind of man who gives up on saving his kid brother.
“Yeah! I was asleep one night when they came charging in. These dudes who looked like a whole SEAL Team with guns and tactical gear. Baxter’s guys backed down without a gun fight, and this dude I thought was one more SEAL...it was Mag!” Jordan grins at the memory. “He said they filed a legal order Baxter ignored, and he wasn’t waiting around playing nice anymore.”
I’m frozen, torn between empathy for him and the annoying thought of how hot Magnus Heron must’ve looked decked out for a rumble.
“That’s wild! I can’t even imagine,” I say as I rush to the table, grab my laptop, shove it in the bag, and sling it over my shoulder.
We head back outside.
“I know. Mom’s gonna sue Baxter Heron’s balls off,” he says with a lopsided grin. “She said she’s taking everything, and Mag’s paying like four attorneys. He’s definitely going to prison for kidnapping. Mag came through for us big-time.”
I look at Jordan’s crystal blue eyes. I’ve only seen one other set of eyes with a similar shade in my life, and the thought of them tortures me.
“I’m sure he did. He’d do anything for you guys.”
Jordan shifts his weight, his giddy smile melting.
“He’d do anything for you, too. You know that, right? He’s really sorry for—you know. It was my fault that night. I’m the one who wouldn’t listen to shit and triggered him.”
My jaw tightens, but I’m not glaring at the kid.
Oh, Magnus freaking Heron, you’re using a teenager now?
A flustered sigh escapes my lips. “Jordan, you’re a sweet kid. I’ll always be here for you, and I’ll help you any way I can, but I...I can’t work for your brother again. Ever. I’m sorry if that’s what you’re asking. I’m glad he’s helping you and your mom. You have a great family.”
“Not what I’m asking.” The firm baritone voice behind me sends goosebumps down my arms.
I take a deep breath and dig my feet into the ground.
I can’t turn around and face him.
If I do, any strength I have left will be gone.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and fire one word like a gunshot.
“What?”
“I’m not asking you to work for me, Sabrina. I agree it’s a horrible idea. Just talk to me, please,” Mag says.
“Brina?” Jordan asks, then grabs my hand.
Before I can answer the kid, he’s spun me around, and I’m face-to-face with jerk-tastic billionaire heart-stomper of the year.
“We made a deal, remember?” Jordan whispers under his breath, slowly walking away. “Even if she dumps you, you’re taking me to Pizza Shack, dude.”
Mag smiles—his blue eyes dancing. “Fine, little bro, but there’ll be no dumping.”
Damn his confidence.
Jordan takes off, his feet hitting the pavement as he races back to the town car.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms, refusing to look at him, eyes leveled at the ground.
“You seem so sure of yourself. Did you forget? I already said we’re over.”
“I know, but you’re torturing yourself too. I see it in your eyes.” He traces a line under my eye with the tip of his finger. “Are you eating, Brina? You’ve lost weight.”
For a second, I seriously consider biting his finger off.
But of course—of freaking course—one touch melts me, turns me to stone, and a hundred more contradictory things. He’s always been an evil magician like that.
“No. I haven’t eaten right since you chased me home from the hospital that night,” I say slowly. “It’s a miracle I’m surviving, but I am.”
I expect some retort, but he just veers his head to the empty patio table in arm’s reach.
“Sit down and talk to me.”
I do. I might as well. My legs have turned to mush, and standing isn’t going to work much longer.
He drops an envelope on the table between us.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Open it.”
“It’s from you. It could be anthrax.”
He closes his eyes tightly and then opens them, a smirk so gorgeous I hate it pulling at his lips.
“Brina, if you haven’t figured it out yet...I can’t live without you. The only way it’s poison is if I’m ready to off myself, and that would be untimely. I still have billions to earn.”
I cock my head and plaster a huge fake smile on my face. “You always did know how to charm a girl.”
“Open it,” he orders again.
Sighing, I pick up the manila envelope and rip it open, just wanting to get this over with.
I pull out a card that reads “I’m sorry. So meow-y sorry,” in a thought bubble over a kitten with huge sorrowful eyes.
“Huh? I designed this, didn’t I?” It dawns on me as I look at him.
Intense blue eyes hold my gaze hostage.
“I know my girl’s work.”
“You just...you called me yours.” My voice is too high-pitched and the words tumble out before I know I’ve said them.
Crud.
He nods.
“I want you to be. Badly. It’s ripping me apart.” He reaches across the table, takes my hand, and strokes his thumb over it. “Sabrina, I need you to be mine in a way I’ve never needed anything else. Not money, not success, not fame, and not any damn coffee. I’d surrender it all in a heartbeat for you.”
My heart dive-bombs in my chest.
There’s something else in the envelope, too. I pull out a thick packet of clipped paperwork and start reading through it. Apparently, it’s for a startup marketing firm with a huge investment attached. The name of the company is Bristol-Heron Communications.
“A partnership?” I whisper, dumbfounded.
“Yeah. Notice how your name’s first because you have controlling interest with my backing. I’m banking on you, if you will.”
I look up from the contract. “As far as grand gestures go, it’s not bad, but do you think—”
“Grand gestures?” He quirks a brow.
I shrug. “Sorry, I talked to my mom, the romance writer.”
“So you’re talking to your mom about me, huh?” He flashes that lady-killer smile. “That’s progress.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I shake my head. “It’s nothing good.”
“But I’m in your head.”
Always. Unfortunately.
“Anyhow, it’s not a bad move, but do you think I’m just going to fall desperately in love with you and hang on your every word because you invested in my company?” I throw the contract back on the table. “I’ve been freelancing since before my vacation time ran out, and I don’t need your money to do it.”
“Brina, wait. This contract exists because I want to be your partner. I want you to help Hugo when I need you to. More than that, I want to be yours in every way. We can do this together. I’ve seen your web design work. I’
m proud of how you got that started with no business training.”
“How did you know I’ve been freelancing?”
“I can’t tell you. You’ll be angry.”
I put my elbows on the table, lean forward, and rest my head on my hands.
“Try me.”
“Your mom told me,” he sighs.
“You talked to my parents?”
“I knew you talked to them and you were crying when you called. Armstrong and I went over. I told your mom I wouldn’t bother her or you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and if you left upset, I hoped either she or Paige were with you. But your mom told me I should be the one to talk to you.” He holds up his hands like he’s apologizing. “The startup idea isn’t a grand gesture or whatever the hell you think. I promise. The latte and skywriter were that, and you weren’t impressed. So tell me, what does it take to wow you, woman?”
A hundred visions burst in my mind, and they all involve six feet something of this achingly gorgeous, hate-inducing man alone with me in bed.
Of course, that’s not what I tell him.
“Being home by six every night. Especially if I’m not at the office with you anymore,” I snap. Impossible conditions I know he’ll never agree to.
“Seven,” he growls.
“Six. Your work email turns off, and you only answer personal calls.”
His face twists. “I don’t even have an EA right now. The last one was awesome, but I’m not rehiring her. I won’t keep our relationship a secret anymore. I learned that the hard way.”
“Shame. Maybe we’ll talk again when you have an EA, then,” I say, batting my eyelashes.
“No.” He grabs my hand, lifts it up, and presses it to his lips. “Since I expect HeronComm will become a major client of Bristol-Heron, we could set up an office space in the building and work late nights together again.”
I smile. “I like the sound of that. But how do I know you won’t leave me high and dry?”
“I love you, Sabrina. I know I fucked up. Living without you has been hell. I won’t ruin this again.” His chest heaves and I stumble back, physically stunned.
Holy shit. The L-word?
But I can see it in his eyes.
I know he’s not faking it.
I see, right then, how much I mean to Magnus Heron.
“I don’t know how to convince you,” he continues. “Give me one more chance. One last-ditch shot to leave you anything but high and dry—ideally, you’ll be under me and so wet you’ll beg for a trip to the Sahara.”
God.
Heat cuts through me like a knife.
Tears threaten my eyes.
He’s a sales guy to the core, but right now, he’s all Romeo and I’m in pieces.
“Honey, if she won’t give you a chance, I will!” an old lady at the table across from us yells out with a smile.
He grins at her. “Help me convince her, ma’am.”
“If you ain’t convinced her yet, I don’t know how else. You’d better kiss her good.”
I throw my hands up to protest. It doesn’t do me any good.
He never lets go of my hand as he rounds the table and pulls me into eternity.
Strong arms encompass my waist. Hands I missed caress me so sweetly.
There’s no distance left between us. No missed beat in our pulse. No lingering doubt.
Mag’s lips brush mine and my mouth falls open. When his tongue moves in, swirling and claiming my bottom lip, I’m gone.
No longer on planet Earth.
Slowly, gently, teasingly he makes me his, and then with a fury, with a sigh, with one last heave of my soul, I’m kissing him back.
Holy hell.
“You still love me. Almost as fucking bad as I love you. It’s obvious.” He pulls away from me, resting his forehead on mine.
I struggle for breath. “Ass. I’m supposed to get to say that.”
“Actions speak louder than words.” One arm stays firm on the small of my back, and the other drops under my butt. He scoops me up like I’m lighter than air.
“Whoa. What? What are you doing?” I whisper, dizzier by the second as we lock eyes.
“Saving you from stumbling, just like in Phoenix.” He carries me down the sidewalk. “We’re going home.”
“My car’s here. I can’t just—”
His lips brush mine, silencing my protest. The town car dings when the door opens. Mag slides me in the leather seat, and soon he’s right there beside me.
“I’ll have someone pick it up tonight. I’ve been without you too long. You’re not getting out of my sight.”
God, I love the sound of that.
He asks me to stay that night. When I tell him I can, but I’m not falling into bed with him again just yet, he doesn’t even care.
Mag tells me he just wants me to be there when he wakes up.
The most important thing he could say.
True to our word, we don’t make love.
But the ecstasy of being in his arms after so long apart beats the stuffing out of every sweet dream I could possibly have.
28
A Merger (Magnus)
Sabrina sits in the passenger seat with her shoes on the dashboard.
Part of me wants to tell her to have some respect for the ride, my custom Tesla Model X. She’s a beauty, after all, but if living without this woman the last few weeks has taught me anything, it’s that she can do whatever the hell she wants as long as she’s mine.
For her, I’ll accept a billion scuff marks.
“Mom’s agent wants me to market her whole backlist,” she says with a sigh, flipping her gorgeous hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her Mom’s only a bestseller because my former bosshole slash boyfriend bought a million copies of her book.”
I grin, loving how it makes her blush.
I’ll love that look on her face until my dying day.
“No big deal. Publishers do it all the time, buying their own books to ram new hits down the market’s throat. Careful that you don’t take on too many starving artists now that your mom’s singing your praises. It’s not a good move for a startup. You should focus on national brands.” I pull into a parking place at the marina on Lake Michigan.
“Oh, I’m not opposed to national brands, but those campaigns are heavy lifting, and...well, I’m a one-woman show. We’re still a few weeks off from serious hiring. Besides, bigger brands put me in direct competition with the design services HeronComm already offers. There’s no sense in us chasing after the same clients.”
I process her words.
“We make more money per client off the startup. HeronComm is a hungry, expensive machine with lots of mouths to feed and even more bonuses to pay. I profit when the company does, but we’re joint owners of Bristol-Heron. Equals. We’re the only ones profiting when that company makes bank. As for being a one woman show, I gave you the funds. You can hire whoever you need when you’re ready.”
Did I mention how goddamn adorable it is that she’s still doubting herself?
I reach over, squeezing her hand, my faith in her abilities never stronger.
“Look at me, sweetheart. You’ve got this,” I say.
She bites her lip. “Mag, I’m not like you. I don’t think I can just waltz in and be Miss Big-Shot CEO. I don’t want to be hiring, firing, and managing people constantly.”
I laugh. “I don’t fire that many people. They usually just quit because they can’t handle—”
“I’m aware,” she says, cutting in with a smile.
“I’m going to stay involved with our company as an advisor. I own half of it too and you’re in good hands.” I cup her face with my hand. “Well, forty-nine percent, technically, but I don’t care if it’s zero. I just want you happy. It’s your baby to do what you want with. Forge an empire bigger than mine, or keep HeronComm as your only client. I don’t care. And if you want to work for starving artists, then forget what I said and do it. We’ll take a
loss and a tax deduction.”
She puts her hand over mine, brings my fingers to her lips, and kisses each knuckle.
“I love you, Mag.”
It’s too tempting to pull her into my lap and take her right here in the car like we’re high school kids making time before curfew ends. Only, today’s far too important for that.
“Love you too,” I whisper back. “We should get on the boat. It’s embarking soon.”
I go to the trunk to grab our supplies and she meets me behind the car. I take out a pack and a shoe box. “This is for you.”
She pulls the top off the box.
“Um...Thank you?” Her lips are puckered like she’s sucking on a sour lemon wedge. “Maybe I’ll just leave them in the car.” She starts for the passenger door.
I grab her arm. “They’re deck shoes.”
“Deck shoes?”
“Anchor shoes.” I tell her.
“Anchor shoes?”
God. This woman might just slay me yet.
“So you don’t slip on the ship and bruise your cute ass. This yacht is the only place I love as much as the office, and if you fall overboard, I’ll only find solace behind my desk.”
She puts a hand on her hip. “Is that so?”
I sigh.
Her face turns rosy. She skips toward me, closing the space between us as she tumbles into my arms.
“I love how you worry about everything,” she whispers, kissing my chin and then up my jaw.
I sling the pack over my shoulder to slip an arm around her, press her close, and let my lips find hers. I don’t have to urge her mouth open.
With a buttery moan, her tongue caresses mine, her teeth teasing my bottom lip.
I pull my face away from hers, leaving an arm around her, and slow my breathing until I can talk. “Somebody’s got to look out for us both, Brina, or you’ll be the death of me.”
“Hey, at least you’ll die happy.”
“No denying that,” I growl, sliding a hand to her ass and cupping what’s mine.
“Also, I love you, but these shoes are hideous. I thought yachts were all glitz and glamour.”
“Bah. I watched you almost slide down a mountain in those stupid flip flops once. You would have if I hadn’t been there to catch you.”
