The Boss Vol. 6: a Hot Billionaire Romance

by Cari Quinn

  “So why didn’t you leave?”

  “Other than I didn’t want to risk a charge? Mainly because I’m tired of fighting. It’s all we do. We gripe at each other and snark and poke at soft spots, only to find a dozen more underneath.” She rubbed her forehead, her movements revealing her utter fatigue. “And for what? What are we doing all this for, Blake? You’ll have to tell me, because I honestly don’t think I know.”

  “We’re not just about fighting.”

  “No? What else, then? Oh, I know.” She snapped her fingers. “I also occasionally get to try to guilt-trip you into telling me the truth, since you won’t do it voluntarily about anything. Call me crazy, but to me that means you’re not only lying to me, you’re lying to yourself. And I’m lying too, pretending we have anything real between us.”

  “No.” My voice whipped out, and it took everything I possessed not to close the distance between us. To take her beautiful face in my hands and kiss all the doubts out of her head.

  But that was an easy out, one we chose too often.

  I had to give her more. She deserved that.

  “I told you my father was shot to death. He was killed by a guy in another family, after a decades-old rivalry finally boiled over.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “I’m sorry.” She reached out to grip my hand on the wheel, and I let her. For once, it didn’t feel like weakness to accept the compassion someone offered.

  Because it was Grace, and everything was different with her.

  “He had another family, other children. I saw him sporadically, and that was a good thing. You’ve already figured out that he wasn’t the best influence. I met Dante as a child. I haven’t seen him since not long after my father died.”

  “So you didn’t go into that life willingly. You were dragged into it.”

  “Is it easier for you to look at me, to stomach what you know now if you believe I was blameless?” My voice was soft, and I didn’t look at her. “I made my own choices. Some were questionable at best. Some were criminal.”

  “You’re not in that lifestyle now. You haven’t been for years.” Her statement held steel. She was willing it to be true.

  Luckily, it was.

  “No. I’ve run things legit for years.” Or I’d thought I was anyway. But not saying that wasn’t a lie. I didn’t know what the truth was with her grandmother.

  Oh, I had my strong suspicions. I could connect the dots and come up with a far from pretty picture. But there was a difference between honesty and casting aspersions on someone she’d loved with all her heart until I knew more.

  Fuck, I needed to know more.

  “You’re not like Dante. He made the decision to live that life.”

  “You pieced that together from one meeting?”

  “It wasn’t too tough. He’s open about who he is. So slick and charming, so casual about murdering his own father. You couldn’t be like that.” Her tone held a vehemence I was tempted to refute.

  I didn’t know if I could’ve killed my father. God knows in those days, I’d been angry enough to. But someone else had gotten there before me.

  “You heard his sister-in-law. Her life was on the line. It was a mitigating circumstance—”

  “It was, you’re right. I don’t know the story behind why Dante’s father wanted Carly and her baby dead. She seemed nice enough, and the baby was cute, but I don’t care about the backstory because I’m hoping we’ll never see them again.”

  I gave a disparaging glance at the backseat. “So we’re trying out a bunch of cupcakes we can never have again?”

  She surprised me by letting out a dry laugh. “God, Blake. Are you men all wired differently? Is that how it’s so easy for you to slot murder and death and betrayal into a neat compartment and just go on living your life?”

  “It’s not easy. None of this is goddamn easy. But I have a business to run. I have a girl—” I broke off as she removed her hand from mine. “I have you. If I still have you.”

  She didn’t answer long enough to make my pulse thud into high gear once again. Then she huffed out a breath and pulled off her scarf, balling it in her lap. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “Yes. You’re still here.” I shut my eyes. “Every time I can’t find you, I go crazy. The idea of anything happening to you—I couldn’t survive it, Grace.”

  But if I didn’t, whomever responsible would pay first. Even if it was the last thing I ever did.

  “Nothing is going to happen to me.” She cupped my hand again, this time bringing it to her cheek. “I’m right here.”

  My only response was a nod. I wasn’t sure my voice wouldn’t betray me, so I didn’t try to speak.

  “Hey, we even made it through the worst first date in the history of them.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.” A glance at her showed her eyebrows were climbing for her hairline. “Okay, yes it was.”

  “Only if you consider talk of patricide at the dinner table off-putting. Otherwise, no big.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “You forgot the ruined tie.” I lifted it and sighed. The drool spot had dried, but it wasn’t vanishing anytime soon.

  So much for silk.

  “Your fault for being so completely chewable. Besides, we have cupcakes.” Grace shot a look at the backseat. “So many cupcakes.”

  “I made sure the bakery would be open after dinner because I wanted to stop there after a movie.”

  “You made sure…” She trailed off. “Christ, I’m an idiot. Bakeries are never open that late. And there were no other customers. You made sure, as in paid for the place to stay open?”

  I shifted on my seat. “She’s a friend of the family by association.”

  “Yeah, and I heard tonight how valuable that was.” Grace rolled her eyes. “You shelled out money just so I could have my pick of cupcakes.”

  Put that way, it sounded very date-like. Albeit in a high-handed, king of the world type way.

  But still romantic, if viewed through the right rose-colored lens.

  “There was guilt involved. Significant guilt. I knew I had other motives.”

  “Don’t you always? And do you think I don’t know that about you already?”

  “Hmm. Good point. So you do know about my tendency to multi-task, yet you expect me to change. Is this an Oprah teaching moment?”

  “I don’t even know what that means, but it annoys me anyway. Consider this brief detente over.” But she was smiling as she clicked on her seatbelt.

  Figuring that was my signal to head home, I started the SUV.

  Traffic was fairly light, and we arrived home in under half an hour. Noticing Grace was drifting off beside me—as she seemed to do often whenever the car was in gear—I gassed it more than I usually would. I presented an image to her of a reasonable man, not prone to fits of impulse.

  Except when it came to her, and driving too fast on a clear, cold night.

  I pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. She didn’t stir.

  “Grace.” I shook her shoulder.

  She mumbled something that sounded like “need to change over the laundry.”

  Smiling to myself, I opened my door. I guess I could carry her if necessary. It might even be worth her clawing my eyes open when she woke up.

  At the noise of the door, she sat straight up. “Where are we?”

  I had to chuckle. “Home, baby. Grab some of the cupcakes while I get the mail.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “Yes, Sir. Whatever you say, Sir.”

  Damn if her snarky form of address didn’t get me as hard as the frame of the vehicle.

  I went to the street to grab the mail from the box and returned to find a still sleepy Grace trying to balance way too many boxes. Shaking my head, I took three of them and my briefcase and led the way up the walk. After unlocking the door, I nudged open the door wider so she could go inside ahead of me.

  At the last second, I shot out my
arm and barred her from entering. “Wait.”

  “What the hell—” She bobbled her boxes and grabbed one of the lids just before it popped off. “A little warning, please?”

  But I wasn’t listening. My gaze was focused solely inside my home.

  A light was on in the living room and in the kitchen, as per the timers I’d set. From the doorway, nothing appeared out of place. But there’d been an extra beep on the alarm system as I disarmed it.

  Either I was imagining things or it had been reset within the last hour. And that was impossible.

  I was tired. It had been a long day and an even longer night. That beep might not have occurred at all.

  But if I had, and I risked Grace…

  I set down my briefcase and boxes. I might not use my fists as much as I once had, but I’d be ready for whatever—or whomever—came at me.

  At us.

  “Wait here,” I commanded.

  Ten

  Blake

  Grace huffed out a sigh. “Seriously? Blake, the house looks fine.” She started to slip past me but I blocked her with my body.

  “My house, my rules.” I met her stony gaze with one of my own. “Wait here.”

  “Such an only child,” she muttered. “Mine, mine, mine.”

  Any other time, it would’ve made me smile. Not now.

  “Okay,” she conceded finally. “I’ll wait here, but be quick. These cupcakes are calling my name.”

  I moved to the sideboard table in the foyer and moved it aside enough to reach the narrow safe disguised by the crown moulding. After a quick nudge of the panel, I flipped the combination dial and withdrew my gun.

  That’s what I got for not carrying on a supposed date. That would teach me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Grace let out a hiss as I turned, pistol in hand. “Is that thing loaded?”

  Officially one of the dumbest questions ever, but an oft repeated one.

  I spared her a quelling glance. “Wait here,” I said again, though I was fairly certain whomever had invaded my home had done so to spy and not to catch us unguarded. But you could never be too careful, especially when guarding precious valuables.

  And Grace. She was the most precious of all.

  She made a noise in her throat and I took one last glimpse of her, cradling the cupcakes as if they were her firstborn children. The image made me want to smile, but I had to focus on the cold steel in my hand. It matched the coldness in my chest, seeping outward to encase every vital organ.

  I didn’t want to kill anyone. Unless I had no choice. If the option meant protecting Grace, then no other option existed.

  I moved into the living room and scanned every corner. Being fastidious allowed me to easily see what was out of place, even when others did not. Moving into the dining room, I did the same, and on into the other rooms on the first floor. Always cataloging.

  After circling back around, I glanced at Grace, still rolling her eyes in the front hall. I held up a finger and inclined my head upstairs before taking the stairs two at a time.

  At the top, I stopped and listened. Utter silence, other than the purr of the furnace.

  Still, I checked every room from top to bottom. Up here, there were fewer tells. The phone on the nightstand in the master bedroom had been moved, likely during the search for a safe. Too bad I didn’t have a safe in the master bedroom. That was about as smart as freezing your valuables.

  Thieves had a playbook, and many of them seemed to read from the same page.

  I returned to the foyer and put away my gun in the safe. Grace sighed as if she’d known exactly what would happen.

  “See, I told you. No one’s been in here.”

  I locked the safe again and slipped the panel that disguised it back into place. Then I turned and lifted a brow. “Oh, someone’s been in here. Of that I have no doubt.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “You’re serious?”

  “I’m serious. Exhibit A.” I moved to the notepad on the side table in the living room. “This was to the left of the phone earlier. Now it’s been placed on the right.”

  Grace frowned and set down her perilously balanced stack of bakery boxes on the sideboard. She walked over to join me, then pulled out the drawer and started rooting through the stash of pens and pencils that had multiplied there.

  Part and parcel of living with a woman, it seemed. One day you were simply overrun with their stuff. Grace’s just happened to be more of the art supply variety than mascara wands and fluffy slippers.

  “Charcoal,” she explained, as if I didn’t recognize the pencil she held up. She snatched the notepad, flipped to the top page and started scratching.

  “What the hell are you—”

  Then I remembered. Freaking vampire TV show.

  I peered over her shoulder. All I saw was a big smudge from the pencil on the page. “Well?”

  “Nothing. They didn’t write on the pad, or they took a couple pages off the top as a cushion.” She blew out a breath and handed the pad back to me. “You’re sure it was moved?”

  Before I could reply, she nodded. “Of course you’re sure, Mr. Anal Retentive.”

  “That’s not all.” I strode away from her and moved to the coffee table. Grace had stacked magazines there and right away, I’d noticed the one on top wasn’t the same as this morning when we’d left. “Architectural Digest is missing.”

  After setting down the notepad, she crossed to me and grabbed the stack, checking them herself as I’d known she would do. “You don’t even read these,” she said finally. “How can you know if one of them is missing?”

  “Easily enough. AD had a feature on me this month. I’d forgotten until I saw the mention on the bottom of the cover.”

  She flushed. “I hadn’t gotten a chance to read that one yet. Normally I would have, but—”

  I waved it off. I certainly wasn’t the sort who needed stroking from my lover. Not that kind anyway. “Point is, I saw it on top this morning. Now it’s gone.”

  “But why? Why would someone sneak in here to mess around with your notepad and to steal a cheap magazine?”

  “Hardly cheap.” I sniffed. “I’m not profiled in cheap publications.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You get my point, Moneybags. I’m just saying that they aren’t the usual items for a break-in.” Her gaze sharpened as she glanced around the room. “What else? There has to be more. You checked out the whole house.”

  “A few minor things. The phone in the master bedroom was moved. A pillow askew. Nothing that would immediately arouse suspicion.”

  “Except for a man like you.” She returned her focus to my face, and for once, something other than derision, amusement or lust transformed her finely-boned features. If I wasn’t mistaken, this time it was closer to.. admiration. “Clearly, they underestimated you, Blake Carson.”

  “Not the first,” I said quietly, stepping to her and giving in to the urge to clasp her elbows to haul her close.

  It wasn’t the time for this. It never was. Everything between us had been inappropriate from day one, all the way back to when I’d had a secret crush on a girl barely more than a child. Now she was my employee and lived in my house and slept in my bed and I still couldn’t stop crossing every line that separated us.

  Soon, there wouldn’t be any left that I hadn’t breached.

  “Blake,” she said again, her voice huskier. “Shouldn’t we call the police? Or...or someone?” she pressed when I made a dubious sound in my throat. “You can’t just ignore this.”

  “No. I can’t. And believe me, I won’t.” I gentled my grip, circling my thumb along her inner arm. Even through her coat, I knew she could feel my touch. She was trembling, and it wasn’t just because our home—my home—had been invaded.

  Again.

  “I’ll up my security.”

  There was no toning down my fury, because how many times had I done this? Made concessions to block out those who chose to betray us. And I was becoming more
and more certain that these weren’t distant enemies. This might not be a personal enmity, but it was personal. The people involved were closer than we thought, and they were taking advantage while I was standing here like a moron making googly-eyes at my assistant.

  “Let’s call Jack,” she suggested, and that only made me turn away to rake a hand through my hair. Because Jack. Jesus, could I even trust my best friend?

  Was anyone safe?

  She headed back into the foyer to snatch her purse and pull out her phone. I was at her side in three strides to grab it. “No. Let’s just think for a few minutes.”

  “I am thinking, thank you very much, and I know we need to bring someone else in on this. He’s already involved, and he’s the closest to you—”

  “No, he’s not.” I snagged her hand and pulled her against me. “You’re the closest to me, and you keep asking me to take risks with your safety.”

  She sighed. “God, not this again.”

  I pressed a hard kiss against her forehead. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just book you on a first class flight out of here to the farthest, most exclusive corner of the earth, where no one can find you and touch you.”

  Not even me.

  She drew back, her brows pinched low over her eyes. “I’m not going to go into shrew mode because I know you’re worried. That’s why you’re acting like I’m a brainless twit who is incapable of making her own decisions. Not because you, you know, actually think I’m a brainless twit who just happens to be really good in the sack.”

  My lips twitched in spite of the situation. “I don’t recall commenting on your skills there.”

  She shrugged. “Hello, given.”

  The doorbell rang and I reached for her without thought, pushing her behind me. Her response? A grumble and a kidney punch that could’ve laid Muhammed Ali low.

  “Seriously, Carson? Thieves don’t ring the bell. Get a grip.” She stalked forward and yanked open the door to Benedict Arnold Hollister.

  Because...of course.

  I didn’t know he was a Benedict Arnold. There was still that nagging itch that had started with his cuff links that had been mostly banished, but every now and then, my doubts reared their heads.