Heart of the Billionaire

by Sierra Rose

  Surrounded? What the hell is going on? Is she nuts? Is James’s family part of the British mafia? Is there even such thing as a British mafia?

  “Nick did this, didn’t he?”

  “I may be 500 years old, chap,” she croaked, swinging the walking stick dangerously close to his face, “but that doesn’t mean I no longer have connections in the Special Forces.”

  Seriously? Crazy must run in the family.

  “He knew I wouldn’t come ‘round, so...”

  “CIA, FBI, MI6, and about half a dozen other covert agencies you’ve never even heard of, my friend.” The cane sliced through the air, adding an ominous hissing noise to punctuate every word she said. “Hell, I’ve got Angela Merkel on speed-dial. Just give me a reason.”

  Oh my gosh, I thought, believing every single threat the woman spat.

  “Nick called you.”

  “Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?” At that point, Granny lifted the cane once more and slammed it down. “He’s always had more sense than you.”

  There was a snort of laughter, and it took a minute for me to realize where it came from. Shit, I thought, covering my mouth, but it was too little, too late. When James and his grandmother turned to look at me, I did my best to feign a cough. “Sorry. Got a tickle.”

  Granny stared at me for a moment before she apparently decided I required more than just a cursory introduction, but she turned back to her grandson instead. “The point is, James, you’re going to the island.”

  The island? Is that a metaphor? Wasn’t that the title of some eighties horror movie?

  “For fuck’s sake!” James raked his hands through his hair and tried to stare the old, cantankerous woman down with a blazing fire quite similar to her own. “You make it sound like some kind of mental institution. And it kind of is, because it’s the only place where you can control me. Because I can’t leave! And I can’t get any service to call a plane.”

  “Uh...James?” I started backing discreetly to the stairs. “I’m just going to go—”

  “How could you be so foolish?!” her voice boomed out over the stairwell.

  I froze, terrified to move but also intrigued to hear the rest of the odd, hostile conversation. James seemed to have many battles of wit with the sorely unarmed, but his grandmother was a worthy adversary.

  She paced forward with a speed unnatural for a woman her age and jabbed a gnarled finger into his chest. “Calling a press conference to hand the company over to that worthless little ingrate? How could you?”

  It was an interesting choice of words, considering that the ingrate was her grandson as well, but I had to silently agree with the part about Robert being worthless.

  James didn’t answer because he was too busy looking at the windows, wondering if any were left unlocked.

  Granny didn’t seem to expect a response, for she was clearly the kind of woman who was perfectly content to play both sides of a conversation on her own. “I’m assuming this is the girl, is she not?”

  My blood ran cold as she headed my way and turned that incriminating digit and beady-eyed glare on me. For a split second, I actually flinched, fearing she might pry open my mouth and check my teeth for deficiencies. Fortunately, she didn’t give me a dental exam, but I certainly felt like I was encountering some sort of uncomfortable visit with a proctologist.

  After a split-second scrutinizing, during which the world seemed to stand still, she cocked her head to the side in a birdlike gesture of approval. “Very nice, James. Well done.”

  My entire body breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived, due to her next terrifying declaration.

  “She will accompany us to the island.”

  The tentative smile spawned by his grandmother’s blessing melted right off James’s face as he turned abruptly on his heel and headed for the living room bar. “Shit, I need a drink.”

  I sank down on the stair I was standing on as she bustled by and shoved him out of the way with her handbag, then disappeared behind the bar.

  “Allow me,” the old woman snapped, pulling out bottles at random and slamming them down on the counter. “Perhaps that will give you time to conjure up an explanation as to what the hell you could possibly be thinking. Do you think your father desired this, for that fool Robert to be in charge?”

  “No.”

  “You know this is not what he wanted,” she said assuredly as she splashed random liquors into a tall glass, then shoved in a withered handful of ice. “In fact, I imagine the poor thing rolling over in his grave!”

  James watched her frantic motions, but he didn’t seem to be seeing her; his mind was somewhere else. “Robert stepped in when he got sick,” he finally said, “and Dad didn’t seem to mind.”

  “He was waiting for you, James!” She slammed the drink down on the counter, spraying a mist of alcohol into the air. “He was waiting for you to come home, to take what’s yours!”

  James snatched the drink up and glared at her, completely ignoring the fact that it was some awful-tasting, toxic stew of wine, scotch, vodka, sours, rum, and whiskey, with a little tequila on the side and both an olive and a strawberry floating in the liquid that looked like it was fresh out of a witch’s cauldron. “You make it sound like some sort of campaign,” he spat before he took an absentminded gulp, glaring her down all the while. He coughed and gagged a bit, then continued, “We’re not fighting the French anymore, Granny. This is fucking business, Rob’s business, and that is exactly what I’m going to tell the press, so you and everyone else better get used to hearing it. The only thing I’m going to have in common with Cross Enterprises from now on is that it shares my damn name.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” she said, her voice growing surprisingly soft but somehow scarier. “You’re going to the island.”

  James froze, as still as a statue, then pale. After staring at her for a minute that felt like an hour, he suddenly backed away from the woman as if she was something to be feared. “No, Granny, I’m not.”

  Her lips twitched up in a sorceress-like approximation of a smile. “Sweetheart, contrary to your opinion, you most certainly are.”

  Then, in what felt like slow motion, his fingers moved up to loosen his collar. When he stared down into the multicolored drink, little beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and he took a faltering step back. “Did you pour this, or did I?”

  She watched him with a patient smile, looking like a grandmother for the first time. “Hardly matters now, does it?”

  There was a clattering of glass as he threw out an arm for balance and caught the counter just before crumbling to his knees. I leapt forward with a shriek, hoping to stop him from falling, but neither of them paid me any mind; they were too immersed in their own unfathomable little war, and one of them was about to be a casualty.

  “What the...” James broke off with a gasp and pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, turning several shades of green, like a boy caught on a carousel that was going far too fast. “You can’t just...” Then, before he could finish, he slumped lifelessly onto the floor.

  Granny stepped triumphantly over him and waved a tiny bottle in the air before slipping it back into her bag. “Oh, I think you’ll find I can, dear,” she said, then turned her eyes on me. “What about you, love? Do you intend to come quietly, or shall I mix you a drink as well?”

  ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES later, I was cruising at 40,000 feet, seriously contemplating the charges of aiding and abetting for the first time in my life. My bags were packed, my dress impeccably selected, and I was sitting on my very first private plane ride, not at all enjoying myself as a hostage in luxury. Don’t be scared, Della, I told myself. At least you’re luckier than James. At least you’re sitting!

  James wasn’t so fortunate, but Granny’s nonchalance as she marched ahead of the four men who carried him was a testament to the fact that her workers were loyal to her. No workers in the empty lobby even bothered to look up, and the doorman just smiled a
nd stepped aside. Well paid off, I’m sure. She paraded by the staff like a general gone mad, and she even had the audacity to offer me a complimentary breath mint. Granny’s minions played it off like the two men were drunk and no pedestrians looked twice as Nick and James were loaded into the limousine like sacks of potatoes.

  James and Nick? Why? I wondered as we headed to the airstrip.

  As if kidnapping her own grandson wasn’t enough, dear ol’ Granny had decided to abduct his bestie as well, even though he was her mole in the first place. Nick must’ve told her no about going to the island and she wasn’t having any of that. Now, Nick was practically spooning on the floor of the plane beside James, courtesy of a taste of Granny’s medicine that was poured into their drinks. I still had no idea how Abby felt about it, but I was too scared to ask.

  After a while, my courage built enough for me to whisper under my breath, “So is this, uh...safe?” I made sure to keep my eyes locked on the old woman the whole time. “I mean, has this happened before?”

  “This is the craziest thing Granny has ever done,” Abby replied. “And she’s pulled some pretty crazy stunts over the years.” While her husband lay prone on the floor, she happily sipped a mimosa and peered through the window down at the sparkling water below, as if we were all headed to some tropical paradise for a dream vacation. When she realized I wasn’t entirely convinced, she leaned closer. “Three of her nine husbands died, you know,” she said in a whisper of her own.

  “I can hear you, Abigail,” a crackling voice rang out as Granny fixed her terrifying sights on us. “If you find sedation so laughable, I can only advise you to keep sipping that cocktail. We’ll land on the island before you know it.”

  Abby set down the mimosa and shivered.

  “Now, as for you, Della,” the old woman said, turning her unwanted attention on me. “What kind of name is that anyway? It sounds like an airline, dear.”

  “I think you’re thinking of Delta, Granny,” Abby interjected.

  “And I think I wasn’t speaking to you,” Granny said, never taking her eyes off me.

  I gulped and sat up a little straighter. “It’s actually short for Delilah, Delilah Katherine Jones.” I would have provided my Social Security number as well, but I had the sneaking suspicion she already knew it, as well as my blood type and the name of my first household pet, my third-grade teacher, and the date when I started my period. Nick knew I was from Kentucky, but I was relatively certain Granny knew far more than that.

  “Delilah?” She harrumphed loudly. “Biblical,” she said, followed by another harrumph. “A beautiful woman who destroyed one of the world’s strongest men. Fitting, wouldn’t you say?”

  My complexion instantly matched the pale color of the plane, and I couldn’t think of a thing to say to that.

  Abby leaned graciously and bravely forward to speak on my behalf. “Now, Granny, that’s not really fair. Della’s been fighting against this as much as the rest of us, and she—”

  “Silence!”

  Abby retreated behind her magazine without another word, mouthing silent words of encouragement over the top before she disappeared entirely and shuddered in her seat.

  I picked up my drink but feared what lurked inside the glass. I glanced toward the exits but suddenly remembered we were thousands of feet in the air. In the end, all I could do was sit there as the fearsome woman looked me up and down.

  Finally, when she’d had her fill, she barked out three simple questions, her litmus test for anyone allowed in the inner circle, with a delivery like that of the Queen of Spades come to life. “How do you feel about corgis?” she started.

  That’s a dog, right?

  As if she could read my mind, Abby nodded at me sharply.

  “Oh, I love all dogs,” I said with a sheepish smile.

  Granny nodded suspiciously, then fired her second missile. “What about the Revolutionary War?”

  “Damn those colonists straight to hell!”

  “Well said,” she replied, then moved on to the third and final question. The stakes had never been higher, and Granny had never looked more serious as she leaned across the aisle to ask, “And, far more importantly than flea-catchers and pissing contests, love, how do you feel about my grandson?”

  The quick back-and-forth came to a sudden pause as my fear momentarily lifted and I stared steadily back. For a moment, it was easy to forget that the matriarch of the Cross family was a terrifying kidnapper who’d already fled the country into international waters. For a moment, it was easy to see her for what she really was: a concerned grandmother, an old woman who would easily move heaven and Earth for James, someone who loved him just as much as I did. “I love him,” I said, without any need for hesitation or any sort of clever reply. I just looked her right in the eyes and told the truth. “I think I’ve loved him a lot longer than I realized, but now I know I love him more than anything in this world.”

  The magazine came down, and Abby stared at me with watery eyes.

  Even Granny was moved, as moved as a stone-faced woman like her could be, but rather than cracking a smile, she simply nodded in curt acknowledgment before leaning forward once more. “If that’s true, how do you feel about the press conference he tried to call this morning?”

  The tension lifted for a moment, and I bowed my head and let out a weary sigh. “Ma’am, when I first realized he felt the need to choose between us, his business and me, I volunteered to go. That company is James’s birthright, the life work of his father, a great man. Never in my wildest dreams would I want to do anything to take that away from him or him away from Cross. I adore the company as much as I adore your grandson. It’s why I came here, and I work there myself.”

  “As a secretary?”

  “As a junior-level associate,” I replied, with a little more venom in my voice than I really intended.

  My face whitened even more as the words fired between us, but Granny didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to appreciate the fact that I had a little bite in me as well, something she could relate to. Her lips pulled up in a withered smile before she climbed out of her chair and sat down in the one next to mine. “My dear, I think you and I are going to be good friends.”

  Chapter 15

  AS IT TURNED OUT, THE island really was a privately owned tropical paradise somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean. The plane landed on pontoons in the water, and Granny stepped onto the dock like a queen, only to be immediately attended by a crowd of willing subjects. Abby and I were quick to follow, and we slid on massive sunglasses to protect our eyes from the bright sun as our significant others were carried behind us with the luggage. From there, we were all loaded into little golf carts, and we sped across the silky grass in a blur.

  I gazed up at the palm trees and smiled as we neared the compound. Until that very moment, I had never been anywhere tropical before. I was most certainly the only one, so I kept my smiles to myself as we rolled under an arch of flowers and onto a paved driveway.

  “Why is there a hotel on the island?” I murmured to Abby as we hurled around a curve and came to a stop in front of the double-doors. “Doesn’t this all belong to Granny?”

  She patted me on the knee and flashed a sympathetic smile before she hopped out and picked up her purse. “It’s not a hotel. This is Granny’s house.”

  My mouth fell open as I stared up at the colossus before me. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Nope,” she said with a grin.

  Never would I have imagined that the enormous building could possibly be a private residence. It looked like one of the giant villas where celebrities summered, the kind that always made me stab my spoon a little harder into my Rocky Road as I browsed the internet from the meager inadequacy of my own bedroom. The walls were white, Spanish tile covered the roof, and splashes of bright pink bougainvillea swirled in patterns at every turn. Just from where I stood, I could see a tennis court, a helicopter pad, a labyrinth of greenery in the garden, and a swimming
pool so enormous that even James would look like a minnow in it. A giant fountain splashed merrily in the center of the courtyard, and the second my foot touched the pavement, the aroma of exotic flowers washed over me, coupled with the bitter scent of English tea.

  “Darjeeling or Earl Grey?” Granny inquired as a man in a butler’s uniform appeared out of nowhere with a silver tray. “If you prefer, Herbert can bring something...less civilized, to pay homage to your American roots. We even have Dr. Pepper here, as well as that awful blue Alligatorade, which James loves for some reason.”

  “It’s just Gatorade,” I gently corrected, then flashed a quick smile and glanced back to where James was being carried up the hall. “Actually, I’d like to get settled in. I want to be there when he wakes up.”

  Abby raised her eyebrows and turned back to the tea as Granny muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s your funeral,” then smiled at me in return. “Dinner’s at seven, dear. Don’t be late,” she said more audibly.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, and I meant that literally, because nothing on Earth could convince me to keep that woman waiting.

  Resisting the strong urge to curtsey, I backed away, gave a little parade-style Miss America wave, then raced down the corridor after James. He was just being laid gently across the bed when I rounded the corner into the room, thanks to two stoic-looking gentlemen who subsequently vanished without a word.

  I quickly shut the door behind them, then turned back to the bed, unsure what to do. “James,” I whispered, giving his leg a gentle shake. “James, wake up.”

  There was no response, not even a snore.

  “Honey,” I tried again, shaking a bit harder this time, “your grandmother drugged you, and we took a little trip. You’ve gotta open your eyes now, baby. I think I’m in over my head here.”

  Still, he didn’t move.