Stolen Hearts: A Dark Billionaire Collection

by Elizabeth Knox

  As his mistress’s daughter, I knew of my three brothers, however, we were never allowed to see each other. When I was thirteen, my father told me the reality of what I was, something that was unplanned but viewed as precious. Given that information, he gave me a choice. I could either keep my father’s identity a secret and in doing so, continue to have him in my life on a basis where he would come by a couple of times a year and visit me on my birthday, or I could tell my friends and lose my dad for good. He only gave me this offer after I told one of my friends who my father was. Only back then, I didn’t realize this was never an offer. Instead, it was an ultimatum, and the first one I remember having in my life.

  You see, it wasn’t easy growing up with a rich, well-known mother. No one bought the fact that she was a ‘single mom’. She’d won two Emmys, three Golden Globes, and a few other awards that I can’t remember. That’s actually how they met. My mother was on set and my father was friends with the producer. He offered him a day behind the scenes of the production of one of the films my mother won an Emmy for.

  I scan the dark streets and wonder what my next step is, but I don’t know. I wish I’d have thought this entire thing through, but I didn’t. The only thing I’ve planned is getting the fuck out of the city and calling my brother, who has enough power to protect me.

  My entire life I have hidden the fact I’m a Steele, but how can I continue to do that when it’s the one thing that may be able to save me? My father didn’t want the world to know about his dirty little secret and they never did. Not while he was alive at least. I even went to his funeral and sat in the back like some random woman.

  Christian obviously knew who I was, but he couldn’t even comfort me because of all the watching eyes. I had to grieve alone, except when we went into a private room and he hugged me. My brother sat there and let me cry to him for over an hour. I don’t remember much from that day except the grief, and the stares of the people saying goodbye to my father as Christian and I left that room together said it all— they thought we were going for a romp in the sack.

  I pull over at a small gas station and walk inside, slinging a large purse over my shoulder. “Do you have a restroom?” I ask the cashier, who looks me up and down like I shouldn’t be walking in here. I can imagine why he’s so confused. A beautiful woman walks into a grungy gas station looking for what exactly?

  He nods once, handing me a key. “Yeah, go around the side of the building. It’s the first door on the left.”

  “Thank you,” I say, offering a small smile as I place one foot in front of the other. I take in a deep breath as I walk out of the station, toward the bathroom. Inserting the key in the door, I unlock it and step inside. It smells atrocious in here, like an entire family of rats decided to all die in the same spot. The only thing I want to do right now is hurl from the stench.

  All I have to do is change into more comfortable clothes and then I can be on my way, I silently tell myself, trying to muster up the courage of being in here a bit longer. I slide the dress down my body and let it hit the floor, grabbing the pair of jeans from my purse and kicking off my death trap heels. I don’t want my feet to touch the grimy tile floor that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years, so I make sure to keep my feet on the dress while I slide the jeans on.

  I dig my hand deeper in my purse and grab the pair of chucks at the bottom of it and place them on my feet before grabbing my long sleeve shirt. Picking my purse up off the floor, I stare at myself in the mirror and speak out loud. “You got this, Madigan. You’re getting the fuck out of this prison and you’ll be safe.”

  Pushing the bathroom door open, I grab the key and head toward the front. Going back in the station, I grab a throwaway phone. “I need you to put one hundred minutes on this,” I say, waiting to hear the total.

  He spits it out to me and I hand him a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change,” I say, heading straight toward the door and back out to my car. I toss my purse in the passenger seat and take out my iPhone. After sliding it under the wheel of the car, I reverse over it. There’s no way the Falcones will be able to track me without that.

  Continuing to breathe in and out, I try my hardest not to freak out. It won’t do me any good, but neither would be planning too far ahead. I surely would’ve cracked under the pressure of the environment I was living in. The Falcones would have known something was up if I had festered on it. Everything is better this way. At least, that’s what I’ll continue to tell myself.

  I don’t have much of a plan but one thing I do know is that I have to go south. If I follow I-95, it will just keep taking me down the states, but if I can get to Baltimore or even Virginia, I’m sure I can breathe a little easier.

  For the next twenty minutes, I pay close attention to my surroundings, making sure I don’t see any Capos from the streets. They’d recognize my car in a heartbeat, even being in Jersey. The Falcones run everything close to New York, while a few of them live on this side of Jersey City. It feels like some real-life Scarface shit, to be honest.

  I pick up the cell phone and call Christian, praying to whatever God is in the sky that the two of us will somehow have a plan by now.

  Chapter Three

  Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out

  ~Robert Collier

  Reggie

  Christian wasn’t wrong in the fact it could’ve taken us all night. We’d sat in that room, and I learned everything I could about Madigan in a short amount of time. I don’t think one bit of what he told me will help me, though. No, in my experience, I have to meet the woman and understand who she is. That is something that can’t be rushed.

  I stare at the white ceiling as I lay in bed, unable to rest my mind. Christian said she was in trouble but failed to elaborate on what that meant. He said he’d call me when the time came and I would be needed. I feel like that will happen sooner rather than later.

  Even now, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact there is another Steele on this planet. It’s hard enough keeping these three safe. How has this woman, who no doubt has had no security detail, managed to stay alive for this long? The enemies this family has, are far too many to count.

  A buzzing sound jolts me and I pick my phone off the bedside table next to me, “Yes?”

  “Madigan just called me. She’s heading down I-95 south and was hoping to stop in Baltimore. I’ve told her to continue on. She’ll be in Charleston in a few more hours. Given the situation, I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to stop. Take the jet and meet her there. I believe your job is pretty clear, Reggie. Get my sister and bring her home.”

  Placing my hands under my body, I push myself up speaking into the phone. “And where is that exactly? Whose home am I taking her to? Yours? Logan’s? Jordan’s? Where is home?”

  “I’ve rented a townhouse for her. There’s no need for you to be crass with me,” Christian spits out, obviously irritated.

  “I will be as crass as I’d like with you. Do you have any idea what type of position you’ve put this entire family in? We know nothing about the threats that come along with her. All I know is that she’s in danger, Christian. Surely, you’d feel the need to give me a little bit more information than that.”

  “I’m sorry but I don’t have all the answers you seek. Madigan hasn’t gone into detail with me. Honestly, you’ll probably be the one she tells first. Look, we don’t have enough time. You need to get to the airstrip and into Charleston as soon as possible. Take a couple of men with you but please be discreet. I’ll notify Logan that you’re doing a favor for me so he doesn’t get suspicious.”

  “A favor? Shouldn’t you be telling him about your fucking sister?” I hiss, hopping out of bed. I grab clothes as fast as I can, making sure I’m in my normal ensemble. It’s a little past five in the morning so I should be there by seven, maybe a little later depending on when I can take off.

  “You worry about Madigan and I’ll worry about the rest.” Christ
ian tries to shut me down, telling me he hasn’t said a word to anyone. Great. This is going to be fabulous.

  “Does she know where to meet me?” I ask, sliding on my trousers.

  “Yes, I gave her the name of the airport. Look, I’m sorry I don’t have all the details you need. All I can say is that she got mixed up with the wrong people. I don’t know who, but I can imagine what happened. That won’t do us any good. Only having the facts will.”

  “If you’re about to tell me that she’s a nice girl, who fell for the wrong guy then I might beat your damn head in the next time I see you.”

  Christian chuckles for a moment, “Well, it looks like you’ll be doing exactly that later. When she’s on board, get your ass back here and I’ll text you the address of the townhome I’m renting for her. I’ll bring Logan and Jordan with me later. Let’s just say around six this evening. If Madigan needs anything and I mean anything, get it for her. Use the company card.”

  Logan had given me a credit card a couple of years ago after I began working for him. It’s for any sort of expense I may have. Whether it’s gasoline or food, we’re covered.

  “Got it,” I murmur, grabbing the dress shirt I set down on top of my dresser before I went to bed. Just as I’m about to hang up the phone, something comes to mind from the conversation Christian and I had earlier. “Didn’t you say something about the Falcones?”

  “Yes, I said that Madigan knows the Falcone family. Her mother is not only an award-winning actress but a very well-known New York socialite. Why? What’s the problem?”

  “We only have a problem if your sister pissed off the wrong people. Surely, you know the Falcones run the mafia. They’re infamous for their torture techniques.”

  “Jesus. I don’t really know who she pissed off, but Madigan is smart. If it was something she could’ve gotten out of herself, she would’ve. She’s never asked me for help before, Reggie. It’s why I’m so fucking nervous.”

  I may be pissed, but I’ll put Christian’s worries to ease if I can. “There isn’t anything that we can’t be prepared for. The important thing is she told you she needed help. I’ll go get her, bring her to her house, and then we’ll figure out the next step.”

  “You mean the part where my brothers crucify me for keeping this secret,” Christian adds.

  “Possibly. Regardless, we’ll take it one step at a time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get a Steele princess.”

  Chapter Four

  “Strength is being able to stand in the same room as your trigger while not letting it get to you like it holds all the power.”

  ~ Kayil York

  Madigan

  I wanted to throttle Christian when he told me to keep driving. Every waking moment I’m in this damn car, I get more nauseous. Honestly, I don’t think it’ll subside until I’m in Atlanta. Until I’m face to face with the people who I know will protect me. Well, maybe, I don’t know if they will. I’m just a naïve girl, who is riding on hope right now.

  Charleston, South Carolina is a long way from Baltimore, but I understand why he wants me to keep going. The further I get away from my problems, the safer I am.

  It’s been a long journey, but finally, I’m about five minutes away from the private airport Christian said I needed to get to. He said a friend would escort me back to Atlanta, whatever the hell that means. I’m just thankful I’ve been able to drive all the way here without too much trouble.

  Ditching my phone might’ve been smart but now, I’m thinking that I royally fucked up. I’ve driven the car that Vinny bought me all the way from New York to Charleston . . . a car that he’s probably put a tracking device on. I assumed my phone would’ve been bugged but I didn’t think this far ahead. Jesus. The Falcones maintain control over every aspect of their lives, including the people in it. Their heads are filled with paranoia which I suppose they should be considering what they do for work. Too many people have ratted them out over the years for there to be any sort of trust level left for anyone outside of their family.

  The GPS on my dashboard tells me that my ETA is three minutes, so I press on the gas and try to speed that up. If I’m lucky, my brother’s escort will already be waiting for me and we can get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.

  The next few minutes fly by in the blink of an eye. The only objective in my sight is getting to the airport. I’m trying my hardest to not allow every doubt that fills my mind to come crashing in like a tidal wave— doing my best, but ultimately failing at it.

  Six-foot fencing comes into view with orange flashing lights on the pavement, showing me I’m getting close to where I need to be. I drive up the road about a quarter of a mile and come to a parking lot with a building right next to it. Quickly, I park the car, grab my purse and pay as I go phone, and head inside. The South Carolina humidity hits me like a brick wall, causing me to put a pep in my step. I want to get in the air conditioning as soon as possible.

  Walking towards the double doors, I place my hand on the knob and pull it open, going inside. This is undoubtedly the smallest airport I’ve ever been to in my entire life. There isn’t a TSA check-in from the looks of it. It’s just one large room with seating for about twenty people, in the most uncomfortable plastic chairs from the looks of it. Shoot, and I thought private airports had more class than this. At least in the North, they do.

  “Are you Madigan?” a deep, masculine voice asks me. I turn around and come face to face with a man in full business attire. His suit jacket is a deep blue with matching pants. A white dress shirt fills his frame with a checkered black and blue tie. He has a slight tan which tells me he must be outside quite a bit. His hair is an ashy brown that’s shaved down into a buzz cut. I think this could be the guy who is supposed to meet me, but his swimmer’s physique makes me highly doubt he’s the muscle.

  “Depends who's asking,” I say, scanning my eyes up and down this handsome creature.

  He takes a few steps toward me, extending his hand. “My name is Reggie. Your arrogant bastard of a brother sent me.”

  Unable to hold back a chuckle, I give him my hand and shake his. “Thank you. I appreciate you coming out here to escort me back to Atlanta.”

  “It’s my job, Miss . . . uh, I’m not quite sure what to call you.” Reggie’s cheeks turn bright pink.

  “Madigan is fine.”

  “Alright, well, let’s get going then. It’s better not to waste any time.” He starts off toward a door, turning back to look at me. “This is the part where you come with me and we get out of here. Christian hasn’t told me much but I know you’re in deep shit. The longer we’re here, the more problems we might have.”

  I open my mouth to say something smart-assed, but can’t when I notice the way his face shifts into worry. “Fuck, it’s too late. Your problems followed us here. C’mon!” Reggie grabs my arm and tugs me over to the door with him, opening it. He holds onto my arm tightly as we run toward the jet, stairs already down and waiting. I get onto the stairwell and see him standing behind me, gun drawn in the direction of the airport. He follows me, keeping his gun trained in the direction of our company.

  A stewardess is on board, who closes the door just as I hear Reggie talking to the pilot. “We need to get going. Now!” He slides his gun into a holster under his jacket and takes a seat, pointing to the one across from him. “Sit down and tell me what the fuck you’ve gotten us into.” His tone of voice tells me Reggie is anything but a business associate of my brother. No, he’s something more important.

  I take in a deep breath, thankful of the fact Christian didn’t send an imbecile. Instead, he sent me some sort of bodyguard. The only thing I’m left wondering now is why my brother has a man like this at his disposal.

  Chapter Five

  “If you can hear a voice within you say, “you cannot paint”, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.”

  ~ Vincent Van Gogh

  Reggie

  I want to ask this woman if she’s deaf
or dumb, but I think that might take it a little too far. You’d think she’d be quick to answer my question considering the bastards that came out the doors with their guns raised. They looked like they were contemplating shooting up at us. It wouldn’t have done them any good and I think they knew that.

  I turn my head from looking out the window and stare her down, “Did you not hear me? I want you to tell me what shit you’re in.”

  Madigan Steele, in all of her . . . shit, I don’t even know what to call it. This woman looks like she’s won America’s Next Top Model. She has light alabaster skin with sea-green eyes. Her copper-red hair flows down in long, wavy curls and when I look at her body, fuck . . . I want to re-adjust myself. She’s every man’s wet dream, with a shit ton of baggage from the looks of it.

  “Are you even listening to me?” she snarls out, raising a brow. If I had any doubts about her paternity, I’m immediately proven wrong. Madigan is definitely no pushover. All of the Steeles share one common trait —they don’t tolerate any bullshit.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I say, obviously, I must’ve missed something while I was ogling her. Shit, I need to knock that out.