Sinfully Rich: A Steamy Billionaire Box Set

by Vivian Wood

  Shaking my head, I go into the bedroom and finish putting my clothes away. I know I need to be firmer in my relationship with Aiden. My conversation with Megan only reinforced that idea. I just don’t know how, exactly.

  6

  Olivia

  Freshman Year Of High School

  I tug at the hem of my ultrashort bright red dress, trying not to look nervous. The dress has a sweetheart neckline that is probably not meant for a fourteen-year-old. But my friend Tanya practically dragged me all the way here to the mall and made me pick between three dresses that she pulled out of her backpack.

  While she was tugging on a similar dress in black, I wiggle into this one. We both pad our bras with toilet paper and put on loud matching lipstick. Then she giggles as we stuff our regular clothes in her backpack and she stashes it in a janitor’s closet.

  I pause, hesitating, my own backpack in my hands.

  “Come on. Like anyone ever even looks in here,” she says, rolling her eyes and popping her ever-present gum. “That would mean that someone would have to clean up regularly. Do you know how long it takes to even get a spill mopped up here? It’s gross.”

  I nod, glancing around nervously. Tucking my backpack away in the back of the closet, ever suspicious. I’ve been a foster kid for long enough that I know not to leave anything valuable out of my sight for a second. Anyone could be watching, waiting to swoop in and take what little I’ve got.

  Until this year, I never came to the mall. I was under the vigilant eye of my big brother and he didn’t approve of just hanging out here. But Grayson enlisted in the Navy a couple of months ago.

  No more Grayson making sure I get my homework done, although I usually do. More importantly, no more babysitter. I get to do what I want now.

  Or in this case, what Tanya wants. Looking at the neon signs and the bright fluorescent lighting, I swallow again. Tanya takes the lead and takes my arm, walking in lockstep with me. It’s really outdated-looking in here, all white walls and gleaming beige floors. Here and there you can catch a wide planter. They are supposed to be something to look at, I guess. But the maintenance crew at this mall have let them wither.

  It makes me wonder what this mall originally looked like, back when this section of town had money. Ignoring the glaring blankness of a few shuttered stores, I push on.

  Tanya and I parade down the wide marble floors to pass the perfume store and a cute boutique where I got my ears pierced.

  “Hey, do you wanna go look at earrings?” I ask, slowing down.

  Tanya favors me with her best side eye. “Let’s go check out the food court first. There are usually a bunch of super cute guys hanging out there. Like… older guys.”

  She squeezes my arm and I realize that she means that to be a good thing. Widening my eyes, I allow her to pull me along. When we are past the Bath & Body Works, I start to smell something.

  Lifting my nose into the air, I catch the scent of the food court. More specifically, it’s a mixture of greasy Chinese and fresh baked cookies. We come around a corner and there is the whole food court laid out before us.

  The food vendors are set up in a U shape, the space between them filled with chairs and tables. Well, at least most of the food places are open. A couple are permanently closed, their bright neon lights turned off.

  Tanya digs her nails into my arm. “Oh my god. Look.”

  I follow her gaze to the cookie place. There is an attractive blonde girl behind the counter, and milling around the other side are half a dozen teenaged boys. The average age of the group seems to be about sixteen. Tanya is looking at them with such longing and excitement that I can’t do anything but allow her to pull me across the food court.

  She hauls me up to the pretzel vendor next to the cookie booth.

  “You want something to drink? Maybe a pretzel?” she says, her eyes going up to the big sign board behind the counter. “I need a pretzel.”

  I bite my lower lip, thinking of the wrinkled ones and loose change that I keep in the front pocket of my backpack. Even if I had my backpack with me, I would think twice about using what little cash I’ve got on a snack.

  “Uhhh…” I stammer.

  Tanya looks at me. “Don’t be so stupid, Olivia. It’s my treat. I’ve got my mom’s credit card.” She brandishes the card, giving me a devilish grin.

  “Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. Then again, I already knew that Tanya was from money. The dresses we’re wearing came from her mom’s closet, after all. “Yeah, okay. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  As Tanya orders our food, I look over to the group of guys and notice that Tanya and I are being appraised. I can feel the gazes of the boys, weighing their chances with the cookie stand girl versus their chances with us.

  As we accept our pretzels and drinks and turn to find somewhere to eat them, the boys saunter toward us. One of them, wearing black from head to toe, smirks at us.

  “Hey,” he says, jerking his head in a nod.

  Tanya isn’t shy. “Hey. What’s up?”

  She and I sip our drinks as the guys come over, circling us as suspiciously as wolves. Now that Tanya and I are the center of attention, I can feel heat beginning to creep up my neck. My palms are sweaty even though the air conditioning in the mall is on full blast.

  “I’m Dane,” the main guy says. “This is Dan and Everett, and Cutter and Sim.” The other guys wave or nod.

  Tanya clears her throat, pulling herself to her full height. It’s like watching a tightrope walker get ready. “I’m Isabella. And this is Evelyn.”

  I cringe inwardly. Why would she lie about our names?

  Ducking my head, I take a sip of the too-sweet lemonade clutched in my hand. I feel judged by these guys, as if our personalities are reduced down to the sum of the how much skin we have on display. They survey our bare legs and our flat chests and try to decide if we are even worth talking to.

  “What are you girls doing here? Seeing a movie or something?” Dane asks, crossing his arms. As he does, the guys circle in even closer. One of them reaches out a hand and brushes his fingers across the bare skin of my shoulders. They laugh at my knee-jerk reaction.

  “Don’t touch me,” I grit out. I clutch the pretzel I’m holding, beginning to shake.

  Why did I come here again?

  Tanya smiles evenly. “Don’t get your titties in such a twist, Evelyn. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not that she has any titties to twist,” one of the guys says. The teenagers find this hilarious, laughing at me. My cheeks turn scarlet and my guts snarl into a knot.

  I narrow my eyes at Dane. “I think I should go.”

  “Hear that guys? She thinks she should go.” Sim leans in and grins. “Don’t be such a baby, Evelyn.”

  I look pleadingly over to my friend, but Tanya is no help. “Yeah, don't be such a baby! They are just playing around.”

  She’s aligning herself with the guys for some reason. I start to back away, ready to put the lemonade in the trash and hustle back to my backpack. But one of the teenaged boys is right behind me, his arms closing around me from behind as I stumble.

  “Let me help you out,” he sniggers. This close to him, he reeks of pot smoke.

  “Let go!” I whine. “Seriously—”

  “Hey!” a male voice calls. “Take your hands off of her right now.”

  The teenage boys part like a curtain, the one who has a hold on me dropping me like a hot potato. I look over to my savior, who is bearing down on our group with a long scowl.

  I blink.

  He’s tall and broad, with short dark hair and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “Aiden?” comes bubbling out of my mouth.

  He sees me and looks doubly angry. He swings his head around, practically breathing fire. “Get moving, all of you. And I don't ever want to catch you grabbing a girl like that again. Ever.”

  Dane and his crew are already turning tail and scurrying away. Tanya licks her traitorous lips and ed
ges away, looking at me meaningfully. I turn around and look at her as she starts to drift off, trying to decide what I should do.

  Aiden growls at me. “Not you, Olivia. You stay put.”

  Facing back toward him with wide eyes, I realize that my hands are shaking a little. He circles me, glaring.

  “It’s noon on a Tuesday. Where are you supposed to be right now? Don’t you have school?”

  I flush. “Umm… it’s spring break.”

  Actually last week was spring break, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  Aiden looks unamused. “Uh huh. Does your mom know where you are right now?”

  That one hurts. “Mom disappeared like three weeks ago. I’m doing fine on my own.”

  His eyes are focused like a laser on my face. “I don't think you are doing fine. Where is Grayson?”

  My gaze sinks to my feet. I twist my lips. “At basic training for a couple of months.”

  Instantly Aiden’s face softens. “Ah. I didn’t realize. I just got home on leave myself.”

  I nod, my face still scrunched up. Talking about how I feel about my brother all but abandoning me isn’t exactly high on my priority list right now. He takes another second to scan my face, then sighs.

  “I think we should get you home. Or somewhere safe, at least. And…” He looks me up and down. “You have to wear… more.”

  Cheeks burning, I don't know what to say to that. I have the distinct thought that if a giant sink hole opened up in the floor right now and swallowed me whole, I would welcome it.

  Aiden raises both brows. “You ready to go?”

  Confessing is the most intense kind of agony imaginable. “My backpack is stashed away in a closet. It’s got a change of clothes in it.”

  He huffs out a laugh. “Alright. Let’s go get it.”

  He waits for me to throw away the lemonade I’m holding. I keep the pretzel, though I couldn’t fathom being hungry right now. Still, it’s good to have. The kid that’s known real hunger before won’t let me throw it away anyway.

  Dragging my feet as I go back to the closet and retrieve my backpack, I try to think clearly. As I change clothes, I wince. I’m in so much trouble as soon as Aiden tells Grayson the circumstances of his finding me.

  When I come out of the ladies room, relief is written all over Aiden’s face as he surveys me. “That’s better.”

  I look down at my faded too-big hoodie and my boy’s cargo shorts. For the first time, I feel ashamed of what I am wearing. More ashamed than when I was wearing the itty bitty dress.

  At least when I wore that, it was easy to tell that I have a shape. In my regular clothes, I am literally hidden. I pull my backpack onto my shoulder and try not to cry, utterly miserable.

  “You can take me home but no one will be there,” I rasp.

  Aiden favors me with another long look. “Do you like pizza?”

  My stomach rumbles at the very thought, even though I’m too worked up to really feel hungry. “I guess?”

  “Come on. There’s a pizza place on the other side of the mall.” He reaches out and touches my shoulder gently, just to get me moving. “We can stop there on the way to your house.”

  It’s almost electric, the feeling of his fingers on my thin shoulder. Sure, the hoodie is in the way. But that doesn’t stop me from looking up at him with something like awe.

  Realization hits me like a lightning bolt straight to the heart.

  He saved me.

  Now he’s taking care of me.

  As we stroll toward the pizza place together, I can barely breathe because I know…

  He cares about me. Not because he has to, like Grayson. And not because he’s paid by the state, like all those foster parents.

  He just cares because he’s a good guy.

  And that makes him a thousand times more attractive to me than I found him before. Starry eyed, I follow along, tongue tied and clutching to my backpack for dear life.

  7

  Aiden

  The next morning, I wake up and force coffee down my throat. As I shower and get ready, I put a record in the record player. “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” blares through the crappy speakers, instantly lifting my mood.

  I have a lot of vices, but my records are a lasting addiction that I don't want to shake. Marvin Gaye’s smooth voice sounds great despite the lack of sound equipment, and I like to think it makes being required to put on pants today bearable.

  I’m not a natural early bird by any means, though working at the National Park Service put me on something of a daytime schedule. It’s been ten days now since I was put on leave there, and my night owl instincts are kicking in again.

  Still humming that tune, I fill up a thermos with more coffee.

  Then I head out of my apartment to find Olivia’s place empty. That figures. Olivia has always struck me as a morning person. Besides, this gives me a little time and a ton of coffee before I have to see her. Which is great, since I need to get my defenses up. Otherwise, who even knows what I will do or say around her.

  I drag myself through the woods and up to the main house. As I go, I try to make a list of things I have to do around the house.

  Scrape the old paint off the house and add a new coat.

  The wraparound porch is in bad shape, so that needs fixing.

  The roof of the employee quarters could use some serious patching, and from the looks of it the main house could too.

  Clear the brush out of the yard. I think when I started, Mrs. Morgan mentioned a garden, but where it was exactly eludes me just now. The yard is honestly a fucking wreck.

  And that’s just the outside of the main house. Who knows what I’ll find when I start poking around on the inside.

  So far, I have been raking the gravel that leads up to the house back into some semblance of a path, but that task is pretty much done. There is just so much work to be done, it’s kind of dizzying.

  Under all of that, I’m supposed to be gleaning any kind of information that I can about the Morgans. Right now I don’t know whether I could be one of them or not. I know even less than I would want from them if I find out I’m actually a Morgan.

  First things first. I need to ask Mrs. Morgan what she would prefer I start with. Then I need to find out a little more about her nephews. I know from public record that she had two nephews — Thomas and Robert — but there was almost nothing else to go on. I also remember what my mother said.

  Your biological father is Thomas Morgan.

  Stomping up the front porch, I stumble a little bit when my foot catches on a loose stair. My coffee sloshes over the side of my thermos, missing scalding my hand by the barest margin. I feel my temper flare up.

  “God damn it,” I mutter, glaring back at the stairs. “Maybe I should fix you first.”

  “Not a bad idea.”

  I turn my head and see a man my age looking on from one corner of the porch, a hint of amusement on his aristocratic features. His skin is a few shades darker than mine, giving him a vaguely trans-European air. He’s tall and almost a broad as I am, with hair long dark hair pulled into an elegant bun. He sports a beard, looking like a very refined caveman in his blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the expensive dark slacks, a pair of dark oxfords on his feet. His outfit screams wealth. I know it all too well from my years at Bentham prep and Yale.

  This guy is dressed like he has money, something I actively work to avoid. He looks like some kind of ad for an Ivy League college mixed with an ad for expensive cologne.

  Staring him down earns him a steely look from me.

  “Sorry, who are you?” I rumble.

  One corner of his mouth kicks up. He pushes off the porch railing, extending his hand. “Carter Morgan. Margaret is my great aunt.”

  My eyebrows lift. I shake his hand, taking his measure. Inch for inch, we are almost exactly the same height. I squint, pulling my hand back. “So you’re…”

  Settling back onto the porch railing again, he cuts m
e off. “Thomas was my father.”

  My heart starts thumping in my chest. If what my mother told me was true, I’m talking to my half-brother. It seems like I’m looking into a fucking mirror and I’m seeing myself, if I had turned out very differently. It makes me feel like I’m in some sort of alternate universe… and distinctly out of place.

  All my questions about how true my mother’s deathbed confession was vanish. Before my eyes is the living, breathing proof that my mom was being completely honest.

  I am silent for a little too long, looking at him agog.

  He squints at me. I swallow, feeling as though I’m being judged. I should know, I’ve done it often enough to other people. He looks me over, his dark eyes calculating.

  “You’re the new gardener or something?”

  “You can call me Aiden.” I give him a humorless smile. “Your grandmother hired me on for the summer as a handyman.”

  His lips lift for a moment, as if he finds that humorous somehow. “A jack of all trades, then.”

  Normally I would show my distaste for his whole richer than thou persona he’s got going on, but just now I stifle my rebellious side. “Yep.”

  We stare each other down for a solid ten seconds, until Olivia comes out of the front door. She is wearing pants and a tied up pink tee shirt that shows an inch of creamy bare skin above her waistline.

  She’s heart stopping, even this early in the morning. For some reason that makes me frown.

  “Carter, I—” She sees me and pauses, her cheeks going pink. “Aiden! You’re here. Have you two met?”

  “We have,” Carter replies evenly. He moves a little closer, which makes Olivia turn faintly red. “I suppose I don’t have to introduce you?”

  Olivia licks her lips as looks at me, her blue eyes shining. “No. I’ve known Aiden since we were kids.”

  Carter smiles blandly. “How nice.”

  Olivia shrugs a shoulder. “At least I’m not staying in the servants’ quarters with a total stranger. What’s more, Aiden is going to help me move those huge stacks of papers and books around in the library.”