The Billionaire's Heir

by Sierra Rose

  Two men, sitting in opposing armchairs in front of a roaring fire, stared at us, and another paced restlessly in the background. Not one member of the trio looked remotely pleased to see us.

  “Dad?” Nick froze and paled, to a complexion lighter than I’d ever seen him. “What are you—”

  “No, Nicholas,” Mitchell Hunter interrupted unnervingly calmly, leaning forward in his chair, like a big jungle cat prepared to pounce, with an empty scotch bottle sitting beside him. His eyes gleamed in the flickering light, making him look even more sinister. “Tonight, son, I’ll be the one asking the questions...and I expect answers from both of you.”

  Chapter 4

  Mitchell sat in one chair, and Harold occupied the other. Nick and I huddled together on the sofa across from them, like two frightened children dragged into the office of an especially volatile principal. It wasn’t lost on me that Nick’s eyes flickered nervously to the empty bottle of scotch more than once; he knew the effects of liquor on his father, and he wasn’t too keen on seeing those effects again. It wasn’t until the third man paced out of the shadows, that his mouth fell open in surprise.

  “James?”

  Mitchell smiled, although he didn’t turn around.

  “Yes, James was kind enough to join us.”

  The pacing stopped, and James’s dark eyes flashed murderously, burning a hole in the back of Mitchell’s head. “So kind that your father only had to physically pull me out of a limousine trying to flee the city. Sure, I was real kind.”

  Judging by the overnight bag on the counter behind him, he had obviously been forced to stay in the brownstone, and he was none too happy about it. Nick winced apologetically, and I met his eyes from across the room.

  “Trying to flee the city?” I mouthed, tremendously comforted by his presence, even if it was the last place he wanted to be.

  James’s face flushed and the pacing began anew.

  “It would have been easier with my plane,” he mumbled. Then he glanced at Mitchell and said, a bit more loudly, “You should know that if you and I are in the same country, my staff has instructions to start a search whenever I don’t check in every forty-eight hours.”

  Mitchell’s lips curled into a smile as he glanced at a clock mounted on the wall. “Is that right? Forty-eight hours?”

  James glanced at the clock, too, counting swiftly in his head. “Actually, a bit less than that.” He gave up with a shrug and resumed his pacing, silently cursing Nick, me, and the ill-timed loss of his beloved plane, a plane that was fresh on Mitchell’s mind as well.

  “I gather you took a little trip down to South America.” Mitchell took control of the conversation once more, leaning forward to catch his son’s eye. “And no, James didn’t give you up. Even private planes are required to report flight plans, Nicholas. You should know that by now. After all, this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this kind of stunt.”

  My throat closed, and my blood ran simultaneously cold. Uh-oh. He actually thinks Nick and I took off together, maybe to hurt him, embarrass him, or fuck with the stupid merger. He doesn’t know I went alone, that Nick only went to find me.

  I knew Nick wouldn’t throw me under the bus, but I didn’t want him to take the blame either, so I did my best to intervene, to coax those colorless eyes onto me instead. “No, that’s not—”

  “Nicholas,” Harold chided softly, “how could you?”

  My eyes flew desperately around the room, trying to get anyone to look at me instead of focusing all their wrath on my boyfriend, who was finally innocent for perhaps the first time in his life. “No, Mr. Hunter,” I tried again, “you’ve got it wrong. Nick was—”

  “I’m sorry.” Nick’s sudden apology rang out through the room, and he held my hand in a death grip, urging me to remain silent. His eyes locked on his father’s as he straightened a few inches taller. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience and concern I caused, but the merger was already closed, and our three months were up. You can hardly blame Abby and me for wanting to get away.”

  Harold turned a nasty shade of green, while Mitchell’s eyebrows lifted dangerously into his hair. On the flipside, standing behind them and watching as his friend took the bullet for me, I could have sworn James looked a little proud.

  “That was not our agreement,” Mitchell said sternly. Quiet as they were, every word sliced swiftly through the air, chilling the temperature by fifty degrees. “You are fully aware of all terms of the agreement.”

  A faint tremor ran through Nick’s hand that was still clamped down on mine. “Dad,” he began, “I wasn’t—”

  “Why don’t you tell me what the arrangement was?” Mitchell said, more of a demand than a question. Contrary to his previous remark, Mitchell was seldom one to ask questions and preferred to bark out orders.

  Nick didn’t answer and simply bowed his head.

  “At sundown, after the merger was complete, you would receive the hard drive.” Mitchell’s eyes swept coldly over his son, without a hint of leniency. “Did you fulfill your end of the deal?”

  “No, sir.”

  “That’s right, Nicholas. You didn’t. You ran off to South America instead.”

  It was incredible, in a ghastly sort of way: the way he seemed to hold everyone in the room at bay, rendering us all scared to blink or breathe just by his presence; the way the man didn’t even need to raise his voice to lay a person completely bare; and the way he effectively suppressed any shred of humanity or paternal connection he might have felt toward his only child.

  If he’s ever had any feelings for Nick in the first place, the monstrous bastard.

  “Based on that,” he continued, swirling his empty glass, “am I in any way obligated to return the hard drive?”

  Nick’s eyes flashed up, blazing with an emotion he was quick to control. “You got what you wanted. The board signed your deal, and—”

  “Nicholas...”

  The word scorched through the air. I jumped in my skin, James’s pacing instantly ceased, and even Harold looked down at his feet.

  “Answer the question. Am I obliged to give you the hard drive?”

  For just a moment, I thought maybe Nick would refuse to answer, that he and James would just decide to join forces to overpower Harold and dump Mitchell Hunter into the roaring fire like some crazy scene out of an action movie, ending his reign once and for all. Nevertheless, Nick knew his father far better than I did.

  “No, sir,” he spoke softly, keeping his eyes on the floor. “You aren’t obligated to do anything.”

  For a full minute, everything was ominously quiet. The entire house seemed to be holding its breath, just waiting to see what would happen next, and when that next thing occurred, it was something I never would have predicted.

  “Fortunately, the fallout from your foolish antics was not what I imagined.” Mitchell poured himself another shot of liquor from a second bottle, staring thoughtfully at the glass. “In fact, it seems to have played out in our favor.”

  What!? I thought, certain I couldn’t have possibly heard that right. Sitting on the couch beside me, I felt Nick pull in a quick breath, just as mind-blown as I was.

  “I’m sorry? What does that—”

  “We told everyone you eloped to Peru.”

  At that point, my jaw actually dropped to the floor, and Nick stared at his father as if he was a man he’d never met before.

  For his part, Mitchell looked rather pleased as he announced, “It was actually James’s idea, a brilliant one at that.”

  In one accord, Nick and I lifted our heads to stare over Mitchell’s shoulder.

  James was now leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, still hatefully glaring at the back of Mitchell’s head. He clearly despised being aligned with the man, regardless of the circumstances, but in that particular situation, he could see no way around it.

  “The two of you were already at the height of public popularity. It was the only time you could have gott
en away with such a bald-faced deception.” He spoke quickly and quietly, his English accent coming through strongly, as it always did in tense conversations. “It was also the only way the merger would go off without a hitch,” he said, smiling broadly.

  James gave Nick a helpless shrug, as if to say, “Hey, sorry I told the world you got married in Peru, pal, but it was for your own good.”

  Oddly, considering the fact that his best friend had publically changed his marital status, Nick didn’t seem remotely upset. In fact, it seemed he exhaled for the first time since stepping inside his not-so-secret hideaway and finding unexpected guests. “But, uh, what now? What does this mean...for us?” he asked carefully, turning his attention back to his father.

  Mitchell held Nick’s gaze for a moment before turning abruptly back to his drink. “You were supposed to meet the board at the merger. Since you failed to do so, other arrangements have been made.” He downed the rest of his glass of scotch in a single swig. “I’m having dinner with them at the Hamptons estate Friday. You will be there with your new...bride. And don’t forget to update your status on Facebook and all other social media.”

  Nick couldn’t nod fast enough. “Friday? Absolutely,” he agreed.

  “You will come up Monday and stay through the week,” Mitchell replied, briskly moving to his feet.

  Monday? That’s the day after tomorrow. Why the hell does he need us to be there that soon?

  “May I ask why?” Nick dared, obviously wondering the same thing.

  Mitchell glanced at him for only a moment before looking strategically away. “To meet Claudia, of course.”

  Claudia?

  Acting on instinct, Nick shot Harold a questioning glance, only to receive a rather pained look in return. To most people, it would have only muddled things further, but after over two decades, Nick was completely aware of what his father meant. “No way! You didn’t.”

  I was surprised by his boldness and his tone. We had just been granted a get-out-of-jail free card, and I didn’t feel it was the best time to sound like a rebellious teenager. The only thing that would have made it worse is a roll of his eyes, which I feared he might do any minute.

  Mitchell didn’t seem surprised by his son’s reaction, nor did he seem combative. If anything, he looked almost embarrassed, but I was sure that couldn’t be the case. “Nicholas,” he said calmly, you will come, and you will behave yourself.”

  “Why?” Nick repeated, sharper this time, almost petulant. “I mean, seriously, Dad.”

  Mitchell sighed. “Nick, don’t start.”

  Nick?! I thought, shocked to hear his father call him that. I gawked at them both in awe; I was witnessing what had to be the first and only genuine father-son moment I’d ever seen. In the next second, a pair of cool hands closed over the tops of my arms. With a silent shriek, I was gracefully extracted from the room, pulled effortlessly over the top of the sofa and led away to the kitchen, and the arguing men didn’t even seem to notice. It happened so fast that I didn’t realize what was happening myself, until I turned around to see James’s gentle smile.

  “Trust me, you don’t wanna get in the middle of that,” he said softly. “I think it’s gonna get ugly in there.”

  My jaw fell to the floor as I whirled back around to look at them. “Why?” I whispered, incredulous. “What’s going on?”

  James’s eyes flitted over to the quickly escalating argument with casual interest before returning to mine. “Mitchell proposed to his flavor-of-the-month. I guess he intends to stroll down the aisle again.”

  Suddenly, the hot tempers made sense. The emboldened son and the abashed father sounded human, for once, because they’d slipped into something they always claimed to be on paper but had never actually managed in practice: family.

  “Remarried?” My eyes flickered back to the living room, where Nick was scathingly expounding upon the last six or seven times he had been forced to endure such awkward introductions. “I can’t believe he’d do it again,” I said, even though I absolutely could believe it. “Who is she, this Claudia?” I paused, then asked the far more pertinent question: “How old is she?”

  James shrugged. “I don’t know. Our age, most likely.” He glanced over again before settling on the floor and popping open a Snapple. “His last wife was a little younger than me.”

  I settled down beside him, and he offered me the bottle.

  It never ceased to amaze me how fast things changed in their world, how turbulent and volatile their lives were. One minute, Nick and Mitchell were like frozen statues in the living room, locked in a breathless, high-stakes negotiation in which the father viewed the son as nothing more than a professional asset, a valuable pawn to be moved strategically across the board. In the next, the impossible trust funds fell away, and they were just a normal family with all those normal family dysfunctions, including the son chiding the father about his failed, embarrassing attempts at married life.

  “I don’t see why you can’t just date them!” Nick argued, sounding more frustrated than I’d ever heard before. “Why do you have to marry them all?”

  “Quite ironic,” Mitchell fired back, “coming from a man who just got married himself.”

  Nick threw up his hands, exasperated beyond belief. “You did that! It’s not even real! It’s just a press strategy, a little good PR conjured up by James.”

  James winced and passed the Snapple back to me.

  I took it, wearing a strange, nervous grin, one I couldn’t really control.

  One second, it was international blackmail and escapes to Peru. The next, we were huddled on the floor of the kitchen, two kids sharing a juice box.

  “I’m sorry for the eloping story,” James said softly, leaning back against the refrigerator with a practiced sort of patience. “Under the circumstances, it seemed like the best option.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said quickly, shooting him a grateful look. “Actually, I’m glad you came up with it. Otherwise... Well, I don’t know where Nick and I would be.”

  We sat in silence for the next few minutes, listening with vacant expressions as Nick and Mitchell’s argument began to wander decades into the past.

  Finally, James let out a quiet sigh. “Abby, I’ve just got one question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you happen to know where my plane is?”

  Chapter 5

  It didn’t take long for Mitchell to clear out of the brownstone after he and his son put the finishing touches on their epic argument. While most people would have simply stayed over, given that it was nearing four a.m., Nick’s father and Harold piled back into the waiting Town Car and disappeared into the night. Of course, that only took place after practically a blood oath; Nick and I would forcibly go to the Hamptons or face death.

  “There’s an extra room,” Nick tried to entice once more, leaning against the doorframe as James swung a messenger bag over his shoulder. “You don’t have to take off in the middle of the night too.”

  “With your father on the warpath? Yes, I really do.” He flashed Nick a grin and gave me a swift kiss on the cheek before jogging down the front porch steps, toward the empty street.

  “How will you even find a hotel vacancy at this hour?” Nick called disapprovingly. “And you’re hoofing it! You don’t even have a car.”

  “Don’t have my freaking plane either, do I?” James shot back. “No worries though. It’s New York. There are cabs-a-plenty.”

  Nick folded his arms across his chest, glancing warily up and down the deserted street. “J, seriously, it’s four in the morning. You won’t catch a cab.” He gestured back inside to the foyer, where I was waiting and listening intently to their conversation. “Just stick around here for a few hours, get some sleep. When we wake up, I’ll drive you to the airstrip myself and—”

  Before he could finish, a yellow taxi skidded out of nowhere, as if James had somehow mentally summoned it.

  James flashed another grin over his shoulder, befor
e sliding inside. “Like I said, we’re in New York!”

  After a screech of tires, a rev of the engine, and a flicker of brake lights, the darkness also swallowed him up.

  Nick walked slowly back inside, closed the front door, and collapsed against it, releasing a tired sigh as he did so. He rubbed his hands over his eyes as I walked slowly up to meet him. “It’s about time this day is over.”

  We showered quickly, swaying sleepily on the slick tile, before collapsing on the king-sized bed, not even bothering to fold down the expensive linens. Considering how terribly the day had started, it seemed to be ending relatively well. If nothing else, we were together again, in New York, and Mitchell had agreed to temporarily spare our lives. Nevertheless, there was no denying that the last twenty-four hours had taken a severe toll on everyone involved.

  Nick turned off the lights, and a second later, the two of us were snuggling under the covers. His eyes snapped shut immediately, but I kept mine wide open, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling as my mind struggled to catch up with where my body had been.

  How is it possible that just a few hours ago, I was on a beach in Peru? How is it possible that Nick flew all the way down there to find me? How is it even conceivable that despite all our drama, here we are, together again, in the same bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms?

  “Nick,” I whispered into the darkness, “thank you for coming to get me.”

  There was a beat of silence before a quiet voice answered mine. “No, thank you for getting on the plane.”

  An unlikely smile lifted my lips as I nestled deeper into his arms. “How could I not? I love you.”

  There was another pause, much longer than the previous one. Then a pair of soft lips brushed my forehead, and the naked man beside me said those heart-melting words for the first time: “I love you too.”

  I felt my breath hitch in my chest, and it was as if every nerve in my body was suddenly on full alert, every hair standing on end as my mind made yet another demand: Tell him. You have to tell him...now!