BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE: The Unforgettable Southern Billionaires: The Complete Collection Boxed Set (Young Adult Rich Alpha Male Billionaire Romance)

by Walker, Violet

  © Copyright 2016 by Kindled Romance Publishing - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Thank you so much for downloading this book!

  As a token of appreciation, I’d like to offer you my

  Best Selling Romance eBook for FREE!

  Sign up HERE to receive your FREE COPY

  as well as links to the hottest new romance eBooks

  delivered directly to your inbox every week!

  Introduction

  Before You Get Started Reading

  >>CLICK HERE<<

  I have a VERY IMPORTANT message that you MUST READ!

  >>CLICK HERE<<

  Hope You Enjoy the Collection!

  Billionaire Romance

  Truth’s Shadow

  Book One

  Violet Walker

  Billionaire Romance: Truth’s Shadow

  Chapter One

  Desiree Palmer drove south for the first time in seven years. It was a hot mid-July day without a cloud in the sky and she reveled in the way the sun beat down on her in her shiny red convertible, kissing her creamy white skin. She knew that by the time she reached her destination, her cheeks would be pink, but she didn’t care. Although fair, she’d always loved the sun and giggled at the memory of mama chasing her all over town with a tube of sunscreen when she was little. She missed mama, especially on days like this. Destiny too. Desiree’s mood darkened at the thought of her twin,. She loosened the scarf tied over her hair and let the auburn locks tumble down around her shoulders. The wind battered her loose curls and she shook her childhood remembrances away. This was not going to be a trip down memory lane. Grandfather, the last living member of her immediate family, was dying. Thankfully it was a Wednesday afternoon so the traffic on I75 was light and she was making good time. With any luck, she’d be in Crawford’s Corners by dinner time.

  She’d gotten the call late the evening before from Grandfather’s good friend and physician, Dr. Johnstone. Grandfather had had heart failure for some years now, but his time seemed to be running out and Dr. Johnstone felt it wise for his remaining family to be near. Desiree doubted her grandfather felt the same way, having been vocally disappointed when Desiree left home, but she heeded Dr. Johnstone’s call nonetheless. She’d called her boss, letting him know she needed some time off to take care of family business.

  “How long will you be gone?” he’d asked.

  “No more than a few weeks, I suspect,” she’d replied. She’d told him she’d have her computer with her and could be reached if she was needed, so he’d told her to take as much time as she felt was necessary. She assured him she’d be back before long, the thought of spending more than a week or two at most in her hometown wholly unappealing.

  The next few hours went by quickly as Desiree drove fast with the radio up, stopping only to refuel the car and grab a Coke. The sun was still high in the sky when she turned off the highway onto the two lane road that would take her to Crawford’s Corners, Georgia. About an hour outside of Atlanta, her hometown was small, with a population of only about 700. They were a tightly knit community nestled under a canopy of hickory trees, trying to desperately stave off the flow of technology and commercialism that encroached from the north. They still preferred town gossip to printed news and all of the stores on Main Street closed at six o’clock so everyone was home for dinner with their family.

  Just before five o’clock, Desiree turned off the highway and into town. A quick glace from to side as she drove told her not much had changed in the seven years since she’d left. Main Street still looked the same with Macy’s Florist, Suzette’s Clip ‘n Curl, and Bud’s Butcher Shop still standing in their squat tan brick buildings to her right. To her left was the Post Office, bank, and Mitchell’s Pharmacy and Grocery. The few townsfolk still out and about turned their heads in curiosity at the red sports car making its way down the street, craning their necks to get a look at the driver. She would no doubt be the talk of the dinner tables tonight. At the end of Main Street, she turned left onto Birchwood, passed the church, and made the turn into the wide sweeping driveway of Palmer Manor.

  Desiree drove up the long drive flanked on both sides by large birch trees until she reached the circular driveway complete with a white marble fountain with carved cherubs pouring water from their pitchers in the center. Palmer Manor, her childhood home, sprawled out before her, still as imposing and breathtaking as she remembered. The wide steps swept up to the wrap-around porch of the plantation home that dated back at least 200 years, looking like little had changed in that time except for a few coats of fresh paint.

  “A Palmer built this house and a Palmer will live in it until it falls off of its foundation on the day of judgement,” Grandfather used to say.

  Get ready for the end of the world, Grandfather, Desiree thought to herself as she sat in her car, staring up at the enormous two-story home. White with black shutters and white columns that supported the roof of the wide porch, Palmer Manor was the oldest home in Crawford’s Corners. Her grandfather had spent his lifetime trying to keep it looking like it had when his ancestors built it. The wraparound porch was laden with overflowing baskets of bright azaleas is every color. They had been her grandmother’s favorite, and her grandfather had been sure to have them every summer since her death nearly twenty years ago. Along with the flowers, her grandmother’s favorite white-spindled rocking chair where she sat and watch Desiree and Destiny run around the grounds as small children still sat just to the left of the front door. Shaking off the nostalgia, Desiree stepped from the car and prepared herself to walk into the house for the first time in seven years.

  She noted two other cars in the driveway, which she thought peculiar since her grandfather no longer drove and rarely received visitors anymore. She assumed one was Dr. Johnstone’s, but could not imagine who the other one could belong to. Whoever it was had money though; as she got closer, she noticed that the car was a new Ferari that carried at least a $300,000 price tag. Desiree took a deep breath and walked up the front steps. As she reached for the handle, the ornately carved door swung open and she walked smack into the last person she ever expected to see: Grant Crawford.

  Chapter Two

  “Jesus Christ,” Desiree exclaimed, her heart hammering in her throat.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever been mistaken for Him before,” Grant said, a slow smile spreading across his face.

  “You scared the shit out of me, Grant,” she told him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too, Desi,” Grant replied, the smile now gone from his face. “What’s it been, about six or seven years now?”

  “You know damn well how long it’s been,” she shot back. “Where’s my grandfather?” She pushed past him, not wanting him to see how rattled she was by his presence.

  Grant turned and caught Desiree’s arm as she stormed down the hallway. “He’s upstairs in his room. It’s not good, Desi,” he said, his voice tinged with sympathy. “I don’t think he’s got long…”

  “Then I’d better get up there,�
� she interrupted him, shaking her elbow loose from his grip. “I trust you know how to let yourself out.” With that, Desiree turned on her heel and climbed the sweeping mahogany staircase to her grandfather’s rooms.

  At the top of the grand staircase, she made a left turn down a long hallway with a series of rooms on either side. She saw a soft light on at the end of the hall and stopped for a moment to steady her breathing. Ever since the call last night, she’d gone into what her friends in Chicago called “robot mode.” She figured out what needed to be done and did it; she didn’t let emotion enter into the equation. She approached this situation in the same manner. Her grandfather was dying and she was the only family member left. Her father had died when she was four, her mother when she was seventeen, and Destiny, her twin, well…no, she wouldn’t think about that now. She took a deep breath and propelled herself forward toward her grandfather’s room. Before she could reach the door, Dr. Johnstone appeared and motioned for her to step back into the hallway.

  “Desiree, it’s so good that you are here,” the doctor started gravely. “His breathing is becoming shallower by the minute and I’ve given him something to help him relax. Be prepared, Desi, it’s been a while since you’ve seen him,” with that, Dr. Johnstone stepped aside to allow her entrance.

  Preston Palmer lay in the middle of his ornate king-sized bed, propped up on several pillows with the comforter pulled just under his chin despite the warm July evening. Desiree’s jaw almost dropped at the sight of him. In her youth, he had been a strapping man of almost six feet with a barrel chest and a full head of jet black hair. This man before her was shriveled and concave, with barely a few strands of silver clinging to his scalp. His skin was sallow and his once-bright blue eyes were dull and grey. Desiree choked back a sob and ran to his bedside. He looked at her, smiling slightly before closing his eyes. She climbed onto the big bed and sat beside him for hours. She told him about her life in Chicago and how sorry she was that she hadn’t been back in so long. She fell asleep holding his hand, and when she woke a few hours later, he was still. Desiree squeezed his cool hand and called in Dr. Johnstone from the other room to confirm that he was gone.

  Grant Crawford lay on his back staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Dr. Johnstone had told him Desiree was coming home, but he hadn’t been prepared for how he would feel when he saw her for the first time in seven years. Seven years. It almost felt like yesterday that she had gone. He couldn’t really blame her, could he? He’d broken off their engagement and broken her heart. And only weeks after her twin sister Destiny died. Not that he’d had much of a choice; his father made it abundantly clear that Grant could not marry Desiree if he intended to inherit the family fortune. And what the hell did he know then? He was a stupid nineteen-year-old kid and his father scared the hell out of him. Still did, actually.

  The Desi he remembered was smart, sassy, and funny. She could make him laugh like no one else. She was soft and warm and fiercely loyal. They’d known one another practically since birth but didn’t start dating until freshman year of high school. By junior year ,they were the clichéd quarterback and captain of the cheer squad/prom royalty couple. He remembered how she used to throw her head back when she laughed, which she did often. That was not the same woman who coldly brushed him off today.

  This Desi was ultra-professional, down to business, and unapologetic. She’d blown right past him, dismissing him as if they had no history at all. Was this new version of her somehow his fault? Maybe losing almost everyone she’d ever loved had flipped a switch. He could see just how guarded she was now when she’d first walked into Palmer Manor and he couldn’t help but feel partially responsible. He’d thought about reaching out to her many times over the years, but knew that if his father had found out, he would be disowned. Funny thing was, he never really understood why their relationship had gone so suddenly sour. His family loved Desi, had been ecstatic when he’d proposed to her, but after Destiny’s death, everything had changed.

  The phone cut off Grant’s thoughts. Who the hell is calling me at two thirty in the morning? he thought to himself as he reached for the receiver. His father’s gruff voice came on the other end of the line.

  “The old man is dead. We have work to do.”

  Chapter Three

  The next week flew by as Desiree made the arrangements for her grandfather’s funeral and burial. She immediately fell back on her proper southern upbringing and arranged a show for the ages. That’s what most southern funerals were anyway, a show-especially if you had the kind of money Preston Palmer did. There was as much mourning the dead as there was celebrating the feast that would follow. Desiree spared no expense on the flowers and the food, knowing it was what her grandfather would have expected. As one of the first families in Crawford’s Corners, the Palmers were practically royalty in these parts and were expected to conduct themselves as such in life as well as in death.

  After the funeral service, Desiree lingered outside her family mausoleum. Although mid-July, the temperature that day was unseasonably cool and she wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the slight chill. She stared up at the name “Palmer” carved into the limestone. Her grandparents, parents, and sister were all entombed inside. Desiree was the last Palmer of Crawford’s Corners and as such, she had a lot of decisions to make in the coming days and weeks. She’d wasted no time in setting up meetings with her grandfather’s attorney and the bank. Most thought it was because she couldn’t wait to get her hands on all the Palmer money, but in reality, she just didn’t know how much time she could spend in this place that now no longer held anyone or anything for her. At this realization, the tears finally came.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there crying, or why she allowed Grant to bundle her into his arms, but for a moment, she leaned into his broad chest, drawing strength from the steady rhythm of his heart. When she finally pulled away and looked up into his green eyes, she saw a flicker of raw emotion cross his handsome face, but it was gone before she could put a name to it. Desiree took a few steps back from Grant and smoothed her skirt with her shaky hands.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Grant cleared his throat and looked at a point somewhere over her head. “You’re welcome. Never could stand to see you cry, Desi.”

  Before she could even think, the words were out of her mouth. “Funny, you were the one who made me cry the most.”

  Grant shook his head, a sad smile on his face. He opened his mouth to speak just as a few of the older women from town came to usher Desiree on toward the luncheon. Probably better this way, he thought to himself. What would he say? Sorry for breaking your heart? Sorry for turning against you when you needed me the most? Sorry for… There was so much to be sorry for he didn’t even know where to start. He watched Desiree walk away with the group of women, almost willing her to turn and look back at him, but she didn’t. Just then, his father came up beside him.

  “What was that all about?” Mason Crawford asked, a scowl on his face.

  “I was just offering my condolences like you raised me to, dad,” Grant sighed.

  “Well don’t get all caught up with the girl now ,Grant, we have things to attend to,” Mason reminded him. “She’s got a meeting with the lawyer tomorrow. We’d better be prepared.”

  “We are,” Grant assured him. “But I’m not looking forward to the backlash when she finds out we now control half of the Palmer interests.”

  “Don’t worry about that, I’ll handle her,” Mason said. “You just run the business like I taught you,” and with that, he turned on his heel and stalked off.

  Grant raked a hand through his thick blonde hair and stared after Desiree. This was not going to be fun.

  “What do you mean they own half of my family’s interest in the mill!” Desiree shouted at the attorney, pacing the office like a caged animal.

  “Your grandfather sold Mason Crawford fifty percent of the mill,” the attorney was explaining.

  “No, he n
ever would have sold our family legacy to a Crawford if he was in his right mind,” she said. “When? When did this happen,” she demanded.

  The attorney shuffled through some papers. “About six-and-a-half years ago,” he said.

  Desiree stopped pacing and dropped into a chair across from the large oak desk. “Right after I left,” she said almost to herself.

  Her grandfather’s attorney cleared his throat. “Yes. He always thought your sister would take over the business end after she finished college. He was grooming her for it. After she died and you left, he realized there wasn’t anyone left to represent the family interests. He kept half just in case you changed your mind and came home.”

  Desiree couldn’t help but feel like she’d let her grandfather down in the worst way. Not only had she left him alone in his grief, but, by leaving, she had practically thrown the old man to the vultures. Although a stern and shrewd business man, her grandfather had always possessed a strong sense of family and had a soft spot where she and her sister were concerned. True, she’d never had any interest in running the family business, but she always took a small comfort in knowing that it would be there, that her family name would live on in these parts. She knew how important that was to her grandfather.

  “There is still plenty of money, and of course, the house is yours now,” the attorney said.

  Desiree shook her head, “it’s not about the money,” she said. “I don’t care about that. I care that Mason Crawford was enough of a slimy shark to weasel half of my family’s company away from a grief-stricken old man.”

  “It wasn’t Mason that did the bidding, Ms. Palmer, it was Grant.”