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

by Walker, Violet

  Chapter Four

  Desiree pulled into the drive at Crawford Place, spotting Grant’s Ferrari near the door. She slammed the door of her red Jaguar and stormed up the front steps of the mansion. Grabbing the large iron door knocker, she banged it against the huge oak door as hard as she could. She tried to keep her temper in check as she expected the Crawford’s housekeeper to open the door and didn’t want to unleash on some poor innocent bystander. She was caught momentarily off guard when Grant himself opened the door.

  “To what do I owe-“ he started.

  Desiree wound up and slapped him as hard as she could across his face. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed at him. “You sneaky son of a bitch!”

  Grant stepped back, rubbing his stinging cheek. “Calm down, Desi,” he said, grabbing her arm in mid-air as she took another swing at him.

  “So breaking off our engagement two weeks after Destiny’s death wasn’t enough for you? You had to go after my grandfather, too?”

  Desiree tried to pull her wrist out of Grant’s grasp, but his grip tightened instead. “I said calm down,” he said, his voice low. He pulled her into the study just off the main hall from the door and guided her into a large leather chair. “Now why don’t you tell me what this is all about,” he said calmly, knowing full well what had her so angry.

  “I just came from the lawyer’s office. According to him, you somehow managed to talk my grandfather into selling you half of the company! You took advantage of his grief,” she spit at him.

  Before Grant could respond, his father walked into the room.

  “Good afternoon, Desiree. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to speak with you yesterday to personally extend my condolences,” Mason Crawford said. “I do understand that this is an emotional time for you, however I will not have you come into my home insulting my son. Your mother and grandfather raised you better than that.”

  “And I can see exactly how you raised your son,” she seethed. “To take advantage of a sad old man for money.”

  “Well we are businessmen, Desiree, just as your grandfather was. And he was of sound mind and health when all of this took place. We all saw the situation for what it was and made a sound business decision that was mutually beneficial. Your grandfather was not the frail victim you are making him out to be,” Mason told her. “Seems to me that if you were so concerned about your grandfather’s state of mind at the time, you wouldn’t have taken off like you did.” His smile was cruel. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Grant and I have a meeting to attend.”

  Mason Crawford walked from the room, leaving Desiree feeling dismissed. Grant lingered in the doorway for a few moments.

  “It really was just business, Desi, nothing personal,” Grant said before following his father down the hall and leaving her alone in the study.

  “Then why does it feel so personal?” she asked. Desiree collected herself and left Crawford Place. She climbed into her car and drove into town, parking on Main in front of the bank. She was early for her three o’clock appointment, so she sat in her car and tried to calm herself down. It still baffled her if she thought about it, which she tried not to. Grant’s parents always loved her, always treated her well. It was true that Mason Crawford had always been arrogant, but he had never been cruel to her. She rested her head on the seat and closed her eyes, thinking back to her last few weeks in Crawford’s Corners all those years ago.

  She had been with Grant when she’d gotten the phone call that Destiny was in trouble. He’d driven her to the hospital and stayed with her while the doctors tried, in vain, to pump the pills she had taken from her system. In the end, Destiny had died by her own hand. Grant had held her, cried with her. He drove her home and slept on the floor of her room that night to make sure she was okay. He’d been with her and held her hand through the funeral. Grant had been her rock and then, two weeks after she’d buried her twin, he’d broken off their engagement with no explanation. His parents, who had always encouraged their relationship, were now stand-offish, his mother Catherine avoided her in public. Desiree’s reverie was interrupted by a tapping on her driver’s side window. She opened her eyes to see a Sherriff’s Deputy peering in at her.

  “Ma’am are you alright?” he asked.

  Desiree rolled down her window and looked at the familiar face behind the badge. “Yes, Ronnie, I’m fine. Just a bit tired,” she replied.

  Ronnie Parker straightened up and looked at her for a few seconds before recognition set in. “Holy hell, if it isn’t Desiree Palmer,” he said with a smile. “I heard you were back in town. Sorry to hear about your grandfather’s passing.”.

  “Thanks, Ronnie. So a Deputy, eh? Well I always knew you’d end up in jail but I kinda thought you’d be on the other side of the bars,” she teased. In high school, Ronnie had been a troublemaker. Not the felony kind but the toilet papering houses, mailbox baseball kind. He’d also been Grant’s best friend.

  “Yeah, well once I realized how much the ladies love a man in uniform, I changed my ways,” he laughed. “How long you in town for?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure exactly,” Desiree admitted. “I thought I’d be out of here in a few weeks tops, but there’ve been some developments that I need to see to, so it might be a bit longer than I’d anticipated.”

  “Well we should grab a drink and catch up while you’re here,” Ronnie said, holding Desiree’s car door for her as she climbed out.

  “I’d like that,” she said. “Maybe you can give me some insight as to how your buddy managed to talk my grandfather out of half of his company.”

  “Grant?” Ronnie asked. “Shit, he hasn’t spoken to me since the day I told him what an idiot he was for letting you go.”

  Chapter Five

  Grant drove into Atlanta that evening, needing to blow off some steam. He pulled up in front of a bar on Peachtree Street and tossed the valet the keys to his Ferrari and a one hundred dollar bill to keep an extra close eye on it. He went in and found a quiet spot in a dark corner, loosened his tie and blew out the breath he’d been holding most of the day. When the waitress approached, he ordered a double scotch and sat back to watch the dancers on the stage. This was not technically a strip club; the girls were topless but not available for private dances, which was fine by Grant. Tonight he just wanted to sit in a quiet place, drink his scotch, and watch some nice tits bounce around onstage. It had been one hell of a week.

  He reached up and touched the spot on his cheek where Desiree had slapped him earlier. He figured she’d be pissed when she found out about his family owning half of the Palmer’s mill, but he’d been a bit surprised by the ferocity of her response. Part of him felt guilty, like he’d taken away some of her birthright. The other part of him, though, was pissed. Pissed that she thought he’d take advantage of her grandfather. Pissed that she didn’t give him the chance to even explain anything. Pissed that he couldn’t just take her in his arms and tell her how much he missed her. Damnit he had missed her. She had been the love of his life and he’d never really gotten over her.

  In the beginning, he had tried to reason with his father, but Mason had put his foot down. He told him that Crawfords didn’t marry into families surrounded by controversy, which the Palmers had been since Destiny’s suicide. They had a standard to uphold, and his son wouldn’t be associated with that type of gossip. There was something obviously wrong in that family for Desi’s sister to have taken her own life. From that point on, Palmers were good enough to do business with, but not good enough for an invite to Thanksgiving, let alone to marry. He had been devastated when his father ordered him to call off the engagement, but at nineteen, he was naïve and terrified of being cut off by the family. He’d only known wealth and privilege his entire life and he wasn’t ready to give it up. Even if it meant cutting out a piece of his own heart.

  Grant ordered double scotches until his vision started to waiver and his ideas became bolder. He was going to Desiree and he would tell her that he was sorry, that he had nev
er stopped loving her, and that he didn’t care anymore what his father said. He’d deal with the consequences in the morning.

  Desiree was sitting on the porch nursing her second bottle of wine well into the darkness. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the nature around her, realizing how much she missed this in the city. She got up and walked the length of the porch that wrapped three-quarters of the way around the house. Her house. On one side was the garden, full of roses and peach trees. On the other stood the empty stables. There had been horses once upon a time. They rode almost daily after school and competed on weekends until high school. Desiree had been good but Destiny had been much better.

  At the thought of her sister, Desiree broke down. She had not let herself think about Destiny in years. The memories were much too painful. They were twins, but not identical. Desiree was taller and slimmer with auburn hair and light brown eyes, while Destiny had been a good three inches shorter and curvier with strawberry blond hair and blue eyes. Destiny had looked remarkably like their mother while Desiree favored their father.

  Like most twins, Desiree and Destiny were inseparable, spending most of their time together. Even though they each had their own rooms, they snuck into each other’s beds almost every night to share their secrets, hopes, and dreams. Destiny wanted to run the family business and raise horses in her spare time. Desiree had aspirations of being a wife and mother first. A month after the girls’ high school graduation, their mother died after a brief battle with cancer, and that’s when things between Desiree and her twin started to change.

  Both girls were devastated, but Destiny became withdrawn. She broke up with her high school boyfriend and stopped riding her horse. She began to go out more and more at night, sometimes sneaking in well after two a.m. The late-night sister visits became more infrequent until they eventually stopped altogether. After Destiny’s death, Desiree took a hard look back and tried to see if there were signs that she was suicidal. Desiree had figured her sister just needed time to heal and tried to give her some space. How had she not seen how much Destiny was suffering?

  Desiree was brought back to the present by the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. It was after midnight according to her watch. She walked around to the front of the porch and saw a cab sitting in the drive. Who the hell?? She squinted against the glare of the headlights to try and get a better look at the passenger, but it wasn’t until he stepped out and rose to his full height that she recognized Grant. She’d know his build anywhere: tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist; a full head of thick blond hair and green eyes that used to make her insides all squishy.

  He leaned over into the window of the cab and paid the driver before standing up again and walking toward her. No, not walking. Staggering. He was shit-faced. Desiree stood on the porch with her arms crossed over her chest, not quite knowing what to do. She knew she should tell him to leave, but the cab had already pulled away, and after two bottles of wine, she was in no shape to drive him home.

  As he approached her, Desiree could see that Grant was chewing on his bottom lip, the way he had always done when he had something big on his mind. She wondered for a moment if she had ever known anyone else so well in her life. Grant stood at the bottom of the steps, just feet from her, bathed in the glow of the soft porch light and she felt her insides start to burn. His face was serious, but his eyes, those damn eyes, were full of emotion and his lips were working as if he were trying to tell her something.

  “Not tonight,” Desiree heard herself say.

  “Not tonight,” Grant repeated as he took the porch steps two at a time and pulled her into a searing kiss.

  Chapter Six

  Desiree’s head swam as Grant’s tongue touched hers. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back deeply. He lifted her off of her feet and carried her into the house, kicking the door shut behind them. Grant hoisted her up farther so she could wrap her legs around his waist and carried her into the den where he leveraged her up against the wall while he worked at his belt buckle. Desiree drove her hands into his hair and crushed her mouth against his, the need to be loved and touched right now outweighing their painful history.

  Grant set her on her feet momentarily, grabbing the hem of her sundress and lifting it over Desiree’s head, leaving her only in her bra and panties. Desiree slid her hands under the hem of Grant’s shirt and ran her hands over the taught flesh of his belly, hearing his sharp intake of breath at the feel of her fingers on his skin. He pulled his shirt off and gasped as Desiree pressed her lips to his chest, her hands playing at the waistband of his jeans. Grant dipped his head and caught her mouth again, gently sucking on her bottom lip until she moaned.

  Desiree pushed Grant’s jeans down over his hips, his hard length pressing against her naked belly. With a flick of his wrist, Grant freed her breasts and bent to take a taught nipple into his mouth. Desiree whimpered his name and arched against him as she wriggled free of her panties. In one fluid move, Grant lifted her up and anchored her against the wall as he lowered her onto him, sheathing his erection in her wet warmth.

  “Oh God, Desi, you still feel so good,” he said against her throat as he buried himself in her.

  Desiree closed her eyes and worked herself over him, rolling her hips to take him deeper with each thrust. Their lovemaking had always been good, and it took only a minute or two to reestablish the rhythm that had always been theirs. Grant still knew exactly where to kiss her, exactly where to stroke her until she felt herself on the edge of orgasm. Feeling her walls start to close around him, Grant quickened his thrusts until she cried out his name and shuddered in his arms. Once her quaking stopped, he drove himself once, twice, three times more until he groaned loudly and emptied himself deep inside her.

  They stood locked in their embrace for a few moments, each trying to catch their breath. Finally, Grant gently lifted Desiree off of him and set her back on her feet. He reached up and tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she responded, suddenly feeling empty and exposed.

  Grant reached behind him, grabbed a throw off of the back of the leather couch and wrapped Desi in it. He led her to the couch and reached to pull his jeans up before settling next to her, suddenly looking and feeling stark sober. He reached for her hand, which was resting on her lap, and she didn’t try to pull away as he caught her fingers and held tight.

  “Desi, there’s so much I need to tell you,” he started, before she cut him off.

  “I meant what I said earlier Grant, not tonight. I just can’t.” A tear slipped down her cheek. Grant reached over to brush it away and pulled her into his lap where she curled against him and wept until she fell asleep. He carried her upstairs to her bedroom and lay her down in the big four poster bed, sliding in beside her and curling himself around her.

  Desiree woke early the next morning, still wrapped in Grant’s arms. She lay still for a moment longer, reveling in how it felt to be held by him; she’d always fit so perfectly against him. Her head throbbed from the two bottles of wine she’d polished off, and the weight of sleeping with Grant didn’t help. She wriggled herself loose, careful not to wake him, and quickly dressed.

  Before heading downstairs to make some coffee, she looked back and Grant sleeping soundly in her bed. How she had loved him. There was a time in her life that her future with him was all she could see. She’d stay home and raise their children (she wanted three, Grant wanted four) and be the perfect wife. Even after he had broken their engagement and she moved to Chicago, Desiree had trouble imagining anything else for herself. Eventually, of course, she moved on. She went to Columbia, got a degree in marketing, and got a job for a small firm downtown for the past three years. She was independent and headstrong, but a part of her still ached for that home and family she didn’t believe she’d have. She’d been too gun-shy to stick out any relationship since Grant.

 
Desiree closed the bedroom door and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She put on a pot of coffee and tried to figure out how to get Grant out of her house without a confrontation. He had come here last night with something to say, but she hadn’t been in the frame of mind to hear it. She’d just needed some mind-numbing physical contact to feel somewhat normal again. As she was pouring cream into her coffee, Grant padded into the kitchen. He had retrieved his shirt from the study but he was still barefoot and his hair stuck up in all directions.

  “That smells amazing,” he said, putting the heels of his hands against his temples in an attempt to stop the hammering in his skull.

  Desiree poured him a cup, adding a splash of milk and handed it to him.

  He smiled, “you still remember.”

  “I guess so,” Desiree answered.

  Grant took a sip and gave a satisfied moan, leaning back against the counter. He looked at Desiree over the rim of his coffee cup and felt his blood stir. She looked so vulnerable right now, like she was looking for the quickest escape route. He cleared his throat and put his cup down on the counter.

  “Desi, I didn’t come here last night to get you into bed. I hope you can believe that.”

  “Honestly, Grant, I don’t know what to believe about you anymore,” she said, more hurt in her voice than she’d intended to show.

  “I guess I deserve that,” he said quietly. “I came here last night to apologize to you.”

  “For what exactly?” Desiree asked. “For breaking my heart? For leaving me when I needed you the most? For taking half of my family legacy?”

  Grant shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t take half of your legacy, Desi. Your grandfather sold it to my family.” Now he was irritated.

  “Look, I get that he thought there was no one left to run the mill,” Desiree started, “but there’s no way he would’ve sold to your father after what you did to me. Some things were more important to him than business.”