Found (Bad Boys with Billions Book 2)

by Laura Marie Altom

  From there, I had the luxury of hefting myself onto the white marble countertop to watch Ella do her thing. She’d dressed in a figure-hugging, long-sleeved black dress and was now bent at the waist, shimmying a sheer black thigh-high stocking up her left leg, which she affixed to an old-school black garter belt.

  Was she trying to kill me from chronic blue balls?

  I shifted my legs.

  She pulled on her other stocking, then stepped into sexy as hell, black-patent heels with the red soles Carol once informed me transformed a twenty-dollar pair of shoes into a pair costing more in the range of two thousand.

  I noted, “You do know we’re going to a funeral?”

  She froze on her way to a padded vanity bench. “You don’t like this?”

  “Babe . . .” I clutched my chest. “You look hot. Too hot to be standing around in a graveyard.”

  “Should I change?” Her expression was crestfallen.

  I hopped down to kiss her sulky lips. “I s’pose you could, but that would disappoint an awful lot of people.”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and returned my kiss. “You’re the only people I care about.”

  “Good. And I say you look beautiful, so hurry up and finish whatever you plan on doing with your hair so we can get going.”

  Fifteen minutes later, with her hair in a loose upsweep and pearls around her throat, she could have passed for a Hollywood A-lister. She might officially be my fiancée, but so much of her was still an enigma. Up until only a few days earlier, her daily uniform had consisted of faded jeans and T-shirts. She’d worn her hair in a ponytail. I didn’t even know she’d known makeup existed, yet now she painted herself like a pro. I wasn’t saying I didn’t like it, just that this was one more side of her I’d only recently discovered.

  We were snug in my Bentley, slicing through the rainy dark, when I said, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but you clean up a little too good to have never done it before. When you were with your husband, did you dress like this?”

  A glance her way showed her swallowing hard by the streetlights’ glow. “I wore what Blaine told me. He bought all of my clothes. He told me how to wear my hair and what color to paint my nails.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that admission, so I reached for her hand, eased my fingers between hers, then held her the rest of the way to the hangar.

  “Good morning, Mr. Stone.” Stephanie, my tall brunette flight attendant, shone her always welcoming smile on Ella. “Ms. Patton. Hope you’re both hungry? Once we reach altitude, I’m making eggs Florentine.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, holding the exterior door open for Ella to pass through.

  Her eyes widened upon taking in the view.

  The hangar was impressive and for the most part, blindingly white. But instead of closing in the lounge, I’d had contractors delineate the rectangular area by building a glass half-wall. Rough-hewn dark walnut floors provided the perfect foundation for lots of manly, burgundy leather sofas that probably would have been better suited to a hunting lodge, but I didn’t care. When I was forced by bad weather to spend an hour or two in here, I wanted to be comfortable and pretend I was back in Africa. The taxidermy giraffe and water buffalo added to the overall ambience. Toss in assorted British Colonial-era chests, tables and lamps—not to mention my sweet G-6—and the place was cool enough to have been rented for a couple of corporate parties and even weddings.

  “Did you shoot those?” she asked, eyes wide with what I could only guess was horror.

  I laughed. “Those are Willie and Oscar—both longtime residents of the San Diego Zoo who died of old age. The zoo gave them to me after I gifted them with a check that had a whole bunch of zeros.”

  “Promise? I’d love to go on safari someday, but strictly for photo-shooting.”

  “Deal.”

  “Mr. Stone, Ms. Patton,” Stephanie asked, “could I get either of you a cup of coffee or tea while we’re waiting? Mason and Doug are finishing the preflight check, and then we’ll be on our way. Oh—and a Nathan Black is listed on the manifest. Will he still be joining us?”

  “Yes,” Ella said.

  No, I thought, but refrained from saying. If I didn’t let him come, I’d look like a total dick. Today was important to Ella and though she hadn’t said anything about it, I knew she probably needed Nathan’s support. I hated conceding that point, almost as much as I dreaded being cooped up with him for the long-ass flight.

  Speak of the devil, the door opened and the kid sauntered in. He wore dark sunglasses, but slid them on top of his head. I’d only ever seen him in jeans, and he didn’t disappoint by wearing them again. Instead of a T-shirt, he’d at least worn a shirt and tie.

  “Thanks for coming. I know it’ll mean a lot to Willow’s parents that you’re there.” Ella approached him as if going in for a hug, but then stopped short of touching him. I was selfishly glad.

  “Sure,” he said. “Plus, I’m gonna see my sisters and dad.”

  “That’s good.” She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. “I always liked your father. He has a wicked sense of humor. Is Rachel bringing the baby?”

  “Hope so.”

  “Gosh, he’s got to be so big. Last time we watched him he was what? Only like two months old?”

  He nodded. “My other sister, Paula—I don’t think you’ve met her—is going to be there too. Before the funeral, we’re having lunch at Sizzler. Want to—never mind.”

  “If you were going to ask us to join you,” I said more out of a perverse desire to make Ella happy than because it was anything I wanted to do, “I wouldn’t mind meeting your family.” Ella narrowed her eyes.

  Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “Mr. Black,” Stephanie said, approaching the kid, “would you care for coffee, tea or a soft drink before we board?”

  “No. But it’s real nice of you to offer.” The kid at least had the decency to look as uncomfortable as I felt. What was his story? He couldn’t have had too much going for him in Rose Springs, considering the fact that he’d moved here on such short notice.

  “Liam.” Ella linked her left arm with my right. I’m sure she meant her gesture to put me at ease in regard to her feelings for me, but so far, it wasn’t working. “Did you know Nathan was Employee of the Month at our Wal-Mart for half a year?”

  “Impressive,” I managed without cracking a smile. Was that the best he could do? It would take an entire legal pad to list all of my awards.

  “It’s no big deal.” Nathan looked to his feet.

  “Yes, it is—or, was,” Ella said. I hated the warm glow in her eyes when she talked to him—or even about him. Couldn’t she hide her admiration? She left me to elbow him. “Willow and I gave Nathan plenty of grief over whether he was Dane or Dax in the movie Employee of the Month. But since he’s so handsome . . .” She pinched his cheek. It took every ounce of my self-restraint not to growl. “. . . Of course, he’d be Dane Cook—only, with darker hair.” Nathan had the good sense to back away from Ella.

  It crushed me to witness a shadow pass over her expression. What did that mean? Was it her silent way of acknowledging she was unhappy about the rift between them?

  She wiped silent tears. “I think it’s just now hitting me that she’s really gone.”

  At the same time I reached for Ella, so did Nathan. He got to her first, settling his arm around her shoulders. When she leaned into him, and his casual comfort morphed into a hug, I froze. Was this really happening?

  I was a grown-ass man and understood that Ella considered Nathan to be her close friend, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I’d known Willow for all of ten minutes, yet these two had been part of her life. If just for today, I had to be the bigger person and accept that.

  “Let’s get through the funeral,” the kid said into her hair—my hair. “You’ll feel better once it’s done.”

  She nodded. “I just can’t believe this i
s really happening. It feels like a bad dream. The last time I saw her, she looked beautiful. Her coloring was great, and if I hadn’t known she was in a coma, I would’ve thought she was taking a nap.”

  “I know,” he said.

  She backed far enough away to search his gaze. “You didn’t tell me you saw her.”

  “How could I tell you, when I haven’t seen much of you?”

  The smile she flashed was misty and when they hugged again, I wanted to punch something—preferably, Nathan’s face.

  I’d had enough, but if I made a scene, what would that accomplish?

  After flipping through the magazines someone had artfully fanned on the coffee table, I took a copy of Forbes and settled into a brown leather armchair to wait.

  I tried focusing on an article about the newest model iPhone, but couldn’t filter out the chatter. Remember that time . . . How funny was it when . . . None of it concerned me. I could have tried feigning interest, but what was the point when with luck, after today, I’d never see Nathan again?

  Yeah, but would Ella?

  I had to put the thought out of my head.

  I refused to be that jealous asshole stereotype who got bent out of shape when my girl— my wife—talked to another guy. If I entered a marriage built on such a shaky foundation that I couldn’t even deal with funeral small talk, that could be a problem.

  The notion was easy to rationalize, but then I looked up to find the two of them sharing the sofa, and I reached into my suit’s chest pocket for TUMS.

  Thirty minutes later, we were airborne.

  I occupied the sofa, while Ella and Nathan sat opposite each other in the booth.

  Sunshine flooded the cabin and, so far, the ride had been smooth.

  I should have felt better about the situation, but if anything, I felt worse. Seeing Ella in this new light reminded me how little I actually knew about her. Our bond was still fragile. Part of me felt as if I’d never not known her. Then reality set in. She’d been in my life since Halloween—barely over two months—yet here we were, engaged. Only, she was still married. I’d told myself I didn’t care. Yet if I’d seen this scenario in a chick flick, it would have seemed so ridiculous I would have pitched popcorn at the screen.

  Stephanie stood at the galley stove, entertaining Ella and Nathan with a story about her upcoming baby shower. “So since we’re having a boy, I wanted a simple, fun pirate theme, but my mom wants a fancy-schmancy high tea. My attorney sister who never wants kids thinks we should do something kooky like having it catered at Alcatraz—” she patted her enormous belly “—since I’m about to be cuffed with a lifelong sentence.” After adding a pinch of white pepper to her Mornay sauce, she set it aside to sauté spinach. “Making matters worse, my bestie since we met in middle school art class has her heart set on a hoedown/western theme.” She laughed. “Look at me! This is the last day I’m even allowed to fly, so do I look like I’m in shape to twostep?”

  Ella and Nathan laughed.

  Stephanie possessed a natural flair for setting anyone at ease, treating the aircraft as if it were her home, and all passengers as if they were her treasured guests. I thought the world of her and her husband, and was gifting their newborn with his college education paid in full. I was especially beholden to her today for holding up the conversation.

  Lord knew, I had nothing to say.

  Ella said, “A friend of mine was pregnant and flew a lot for work. She was obsessed with her baby getting too much radiation. Are you worried?”

  “Not really. My doctor has been monitoring me, and I don’t fly anywhere near as much as a commercial flight attendant, and honestly, I’ve never felt better. Liam was kind enough to offer paid leave as soon as he heard Doug and I were expecting, but I love this job. I couldn’t bear to constantly be stuck at home.”

  “What happens after your son’s born?”

  Stephanie winced while flipping the potato pancakes that formed the base of her creation. I’d had it many times, and she knew it was a favorite. “I’ll be home for the first six months. After that, my mom offered to stay with the baby when Doug and I travel. How about you?” she asked

  Ella. “I know you and Liam are newly engaged, but have you talked about kids?” Good question. One that left me feeling even farther apart from Ella.

  More than anything, I wanted to take her to the aft cabin and lock us both inside. I wanted a repeat of that morning in bed, and then I wanted to ask her about all of the things I’d only just realized I didn’t know. Did she want to have kids? If so, how many? What were her favorite movies and where did she most want to travel?

  I was so deep in thought that I hadn’t noticed when she snuggled alongside me, resting her head on my shoulder. For the first time since taking off, I dared exhale.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. She ran her finger along the deep furrow between my brows.

  “You look so serious. You’re not back to feeling responsible for Willow, are you?”

  I shook my head, embarrassed to tell her I hadn’t thought about her friend for hours.

  “Good. Back at the hangar, Nathan and I were talking about Willow’s stubborn streak.” A faint smile lit her eyes. “It was one of the best things about Willow and one of the worst. She always did exactly what she wanted. I’m sad to lose her, but I’m done with pointing fingers. What happened was a horrible accident. I just hope her parents understand.”

  “Do you know them?” I glanced at the booth to find Nathan engrossed in a copy of People. This semiprivate time with Ella brought me down from the ledge on which I’d teetered. The last thing I wanted was to dive headfirst into a great, big pool of crazy, and that’s what seeing Ella with Nathan gave me the urge to do. “Willow’s parents?”

  “No. She talked about them a lot, and was close to her dad, but I got the impression she and her mom weren’t on the same page. Her parents were divorced. Her mom’s pretty religious, and she was . . .” She pressed her lips. “Well, you know.” I nodded.

  “Willow had an older sugar daddy who bought her the car. Wonder if he’ll show?”

  “You talking about Baxter?” Nathan asked.

  It pissed me off that the kid had intruded upon our private conversation. It didn’t matter that we were all stuck together in this flying tin can. For those all-too-brief moments, I’d felt as if Ella and I had been on our own.

  “Is that his name?” Ella asked.

  “Yeah.” Nathan set his magazine on the table. “He owns Baxter Ford. He’s married, with three daughters—one of them only a few years younger than Willow. I told her she had no business hanging around with him, but she assured me she was only in it for the free car.”

  “On that happy note,” Stephanie said with forced cheer, “breakfast is served.”

  I had no appetite, but considering she’d been working on it for over an hour, I slid into the booth alongside Ella, struggling to forget the last time we’d sat next to each other like this at Olive Garden. That night had been so hot. It had also been the night Willow died. Such a bizarre contrast of highs and lows. Kind of like the tumultuous times Ella and I had shared. Once her divorce was behind her—us—would our relationship enter a calm?

  “Thanks,” Nathan said after a few minutes of eating like he’d been starved. “This is real good—like the best thing I’ve had since my momma’s home cooking.”

  “Aw, thank you.” Stephanie glowed from the praise. “I take it you don’t get to indulge in your mom’s cooking very often?”

  He bowed his head. “She died a few years back.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Stephanie served him a second helping, then topped off Ella’s OJ.

  After a shrug, he forked another bite. “She had cancer. For a while there, it was pretty bad. Once she finally went, it was a relief. Watching her suffer was hell.”

  Damn him. Just when I’d made up my mind to thoroughly hate him, he had to go and not only make me feel sorry for him, but also to notice the connection in that both of us h
ad lost our mothers far too young.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine,” Stephanie said.

  Ella finished her latest bite, and after singing Stephanie’s praises, said to Nathan, “It will be nice seeing your dad. Has he talked at all about coming to see you in Sausalito?”

  “Nah. He doesn’t have the cash, and I sure don’t.”

  I always felt awkward listening in on conversations like this. Did people bring up their lack of funds in the hope that I would offer to fix their financial problems? Most times, I did. I got a kick out of being a year-round Santa. In Nathan’s case, however, I wasn’t sure what to say.

  I could offer to give his old man a commercial plane ticket, or hell, even send the jet for him. But did I really want to take our casual acquaintance to that deeper level? The more distance between us, the better.

  “Liam?” Ella toyed with a piece of spinach. “Do you think you could help Nathan’s dad with a visit?”

  As my fiancée, Ella’s request wasn’t out of line. Garrett had already given me shit about getting her to sign a pre-nup, but with as much money as I had, I’d willingly give Ella anything she wanted. But this? I felt selfish, and equally annoyed by her even asking. But put on the spot, there wasn’t much I could do other than fish a business card from my wallet, then hand it to the kid. “You and your dad work out when he’d like to come, and I’ll cover the costs.”

  Nathan raised his chin. “I appreciate the offer, but that’s okay. My dad and I both are the sort who’d rather pay our own way.”

  I could respect that. I kept eating my meal.

  “Nathan . . .” Ella scowled. “Liam made you a generous offer. Why do you always have to be so proud?”

  The kid fisted his napkin. “Please, Ella, stay out of this.” To me, he directed, “I really do appreciate your offer, but do me a favor, and think back to a time when you didn’t have all of this . . .” He gestured to our posh surroundings. “I never brought up money—or my lack thereof—in hopes of landing a handout. That’s not the way I roll.” He offered his hand to shake across the table.