Billionaire Bash: The Complete Steele Series

by Natalia Banks

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Knight. We’re doing our best.” The girl on the other end sounds contrite.

  I take a deep breath. “So move them. Into a new account. With the name Emma Astor on it.”

  “Sir?” The girl says.

  “Put your manager on,” I say, tired of this stupid woman. She puts me on hold and I wait, thinking through my plan. This one will work. I’m not going to underestimate the Astor woman again.

  “Mr. Knight?” The manager says, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he doesn’t sound like a total idiot.

  “I’m trying to transfer a large sum of funds into another account.” I explain the plan and he agrees they can do it.

  “May I ask why?” The manager asks, and I’m quick to respond.

  “Business.” It’s a clipped answer, designed to shut him down. And it works.

  “Of course, Mr. Knight. I’m sorry for the delay.” He sounds sorry and I nod, though he can’t see me. Once everything is in place and I’ve set up fail safes, I begin to breathe easy. She won’t be able to deny this. Now that it will look and feel real, she might realize we’re talking actual money here, money she could spend. Money in her name.

  * * *

  “Dad?”

  I turn, catching sight of Olivia. “Hey baby,” I say, opening my arms to her. She walks over like a little lady and hugs me. “What’s wrong?” I ask, missing her usual exuberance.

  Her pretty blue eyes meet mine and I see the sheen of tears there. “Can we move to a farm and have horses?” she asks, and I feel my heart seize.

  “Our home is here,” I tell her, and she pulls out of my hug.

  “Okay,” she says, staring at the door. “I’m ready to go when you are,” she says before leaving.

  “Olivia,” I say as she stands in the doorway. She turns to look at me, seemingly older than her nine years. “I love you,” I say, hoping to set her little mind at ease. “If you need to talk, I’m here, love.”

  “I know. I love you too,” she says before leaving.

  Staring after her, I try to decode what’s going on with her. I can’t force her to talk to me, but this feels like something real is happening and I’m not privy to it. Did Emma say something to her? Did I miss something important?

  Feeling like she’s slipping away, I wonder if I should go after her, or if I should let her have her space. I’ve never been good at reading women like this, but I’ve never cared like I do for Olivia. As she gets older, it’s harder to figure out what to do. I don’t want to push her and push her away because I’m pushing, but I need to know what’s going on in her mind. I can’t help her if I don’t know what to help with.

  Today, though, I decide to let things slide and see if she comes out of her funk. There are a lot of other things going on, and I want to talk to her when my whole heart can be in it.

  I step out of my room and make my way to the living room. “Olivia!” I say loudly, “Let’s go!”

  She comes out of her room and rushes down the stairs, her face alight with excitement. I’m struck by how happy she looks. It’s like looking at a different little girl. The change from how she looked before and how she is now is incredible.

  And I realize that maybe all this horse stuff is doing good things for her.

  She walks right past me and snatches the keys from me. “I’m driving,” she says, a huge grin on her face.

  “I don’t think so,” I say chasing her down.

  She giggles as I capture her and pull her into a hug. Resting my chin on her head, I enjoy how her arms come around me and she clings to me like I’m the only important thing in her world. Lord knows she’s the only important thing in mine.

  “I love you,” she whispers. In response, I ball my fist up and double tap my chest.

  “Still beating,” I whisper.

  She smiles and follows suit.

  When we load up in the truck, she turns on the radio and sings, staring out her window. She’s back to a more pensive version of herself.

  When I turn the radio down and ask her what’s up, she shrugs and turns the radio back up.

  Taking the hint, I let it go. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. I can’t force her to talk to me, and I wouldn’t try. I let her know I care and want to talk. That’s what matters.

  The dirt road to Emma’s is a great distraction, and I plan ahead.

  “Dad, I have to pee,” Olivia says, looking at me like she’s shocked. We’d stopped for Icees, and I smile at her.

  “I’m pretty sure Emma will have a bathroom you can use,” I say, noticing how the cherry treat stained her lips red. It makes her look way older and sends my heart right to my toes. I don’t want her to grow up. I want her to stay young and innocent forever. I don’t want some asshole to break her heart.

  That’s all she knows, dad whispers in my mind. All you’ve shown her is men who hurt women. That’s what she thinks the world is like, you fuck face.

  “Okay,” she says softly as we park before Emma’s place.

  We get out and head toward the house. Emma meets us on the porch and Olivia asks her in a whisper if she’s got a bathroom she can use. Emma smiles and guides Olivia the right direction. Left alone with her as Olivia leaves, I notice Emma tuck her hands in her back pocket and shift her weight to her toes like she’s uncomfortable alone with me.

  I wonder why?

  I lift my phone and show her the account and the amount in it. “It’s in your name,” I tell her. Her eyes widen and she gasps softly as she looks past it at me.

  She seems to take a moment to compose herself. Her eyes travel toward the barn then sweep back toward me.

  “No,” she says, her tone oddly calm.

  “How much?” I ask, tired of dancing round like this.

  Her voice is thoughtful and her eyes are soft as she responds. “Not for sale. Not now, not ever.”

  Chapter 14

  Emma

  I felt bad for Mr. Knight before, but the look on his face when I turned him down… I’m pretty sure he felt like I pulled out a pistol and shot him dead through the heart.

  He really thought I’d sell.

  He really doesn’t get it.

  As Olivia works on her daily lesson, I find myself beside an unusually stoic Knight. His shock has faded into an absolute fury. Fury that I’d swear spells murder for me. But he’s quiet, calm even, as he watches Olivia work.

  Then, the ire shifts once more and he glances down at me. This time, the anger is gone. The shock is gone. They’re replaced by something so sinister I wince. I’d swear the look is respect.

  And I decide, that, though I owe him nothing, I’ll share my reasons with him. I’m confident he won’t be able to use this against me, and I find myself feeling bad for him. He’s such a powerful man, no one ever tells him no. Then I come along and turn his world up on its end. That’s got to be uncomfortable. No wonder he thinks I’m unreasonable. Reasonable people – all the people he’s ever dealt with besides me – do what he wants.

  “My dad wanted a boy,” I say, giving voice to the beginning. “He said women are trouble. That I’d be like my mom, pregnant at sixteen and married off to some fool I’d fallen in love with.”

  Knight is silent.

  But I’m giving voice to my truth, and his silence is merely an invitation to continue. “Like they were. He needed a son to follow in his footsteps. Needed a boy to take over and run things when he was gone.”

  The pain of it all rises up and chokes me. My throat feels like it’s closing and I take a moment to compose myself as we watch Olivia, her chin held high and a stubborn light in her eyes as she works with Dreamer to do figure eights.

  When I’m certain I can speak again, I start slow. “When dad would hire guys, they’d resort to any wheel and deal tactics they could.” I shake my head, still feeling as incredulous as I had back then. “One offered to marry me to take care of me and the ranch.” Realizing he might need context, I add, “I was ten.”

  Beside me, Kn
ight stiffens, and I realize I might have hit a nerve. Olivia is nine. I’m sure he’s putting her in my place, perhaps putting his whole life in mine as I speak. Maybe he’s in a better place to understand my life than I’ve given him credit for.

  “I felt like dad wanted to kill the guy,” I say, remembering with a smile. Dad had stood up for me. “He told him to get the fuck out and never come back unless he wanted to lose his tackle.” I can’t help the grin widening over my lips. “It was the first time I’d ever heard dad threaten someone, the first time I’d heard him cuss, or raise his voice. He was such a calm man.”

  Knight looks at me, and deep in his eyes, I see darkness that’s drowning him.

  Struck silent, I feel my lips part as he stares at me like the world is falling down around us. His eyes move to my lips and I can’t help but run my tongue over them. They’re so dry and my nerves are working overtime with the intensity behind his stare.

  His eyes meet mine again and my heart begins to pound in my throat so hard I feel faint. As if he knows the effect he’s having on me, he looks away. With his attention back on Olivia, I can gather the shredded bits of my courage around me like a moth-eaten blanket.

  And I continue telling him the story.

  “But there were guys who didn’t go the nice route. Some straight up told dad that I couldn’t run this place. They said I’m just a stupid, weak girl and I’d wind up losing everything.” Tears sting in my eyes as I speak. It hurts to remember how dad had argued, but perhaps half-heartedly. Like he was arguing his hopes rather than with a conviction that told him I’d be just fine.

  And I’m still here. Still fighting. Still running the place like dad did.

  I wonder if Knight is even listening to me at this point. But it feels good to talk, so I’m ready to continue even if he’s ignoring me. I haven’t opened up about this yet, and it’s a nice feeling to just let it all out. If I had more time - and more friends - I’d talk to them, but time is such a short commodity it’s just not feasible. I’ll settle for this.

  At least I know Knight wont fake pity me, or bullshit me.

  “Thanks,” I say suddenly. He looks at me this time his expression is carefully guarded. I smile at him as I speak part of what’s on my mind. “I was just thinking that I know you won’t fake pity me or bullshit me. It’s nice to be so candid and honest without worrying about what you think or how you’ll react.”

  His eyes narrow a tiny bit before returning to normal, and I find myself wondering what’s going on in that mind of his. What is he thinking? Feeling? Is he just thinking about how crazy I am to be dumping all of this on him? Because it is nuts. He’s not a friend. Not a confidant. Not even someone who has the slightest care about the worst parts of my life.

  Maybe that’s why I like this. I can show the ugliest parts of my being to him and his opinion of me won’t change, because he already doesn’t like me.

  His attention returns to Olivia, and I keep talking, taking his silence as an invitation to keep spilling. He would have told me to stop if he was hating it, right? And I know he’s listening now. He’d responded to my thanking him. Sure, he’s not talking, but that’s not a bad thing. If he said something it might make me second guess talking to him. At least this way, it’s like talking to the horses, except he understands the words. He responds. He’s human.

  Kind of. Maybe not so much human.

  “Dad used to hire guys to help out. They’d work hard and listen to him. It made life easier when we had rushes we couldn’t keep up with.” I think back on the times we’d have men taking some of load off. It had been such a relief, a chance to rest a bit and catch up on sleep. Though we never took time off, we just took better care of ourselves. Something dad thought was very important.

  My heart falls a little as I think about how things had gone when I’d tried to hire help myself. My voice lowers to a humiliated croak. “But when I try to hire guys, they just goof off. No one takes me seriously.”

  Beside me, he stiffens a little and I look toward Olivia, trying to figure out if something is wrong. Everything looks good, so I assume his response is to my story.

  “But I’m still here,” I say softly. “I still keep this place running, by myself. I get things done. I’m as good as the son dad wanted.” I take a moment to take a deep breath and compose myself. As the thoughts come full circle, I finally find the reason I’m telling him this.

  “If I give up, throw in the towel and sell the place, then I’ll be proving them all right. I’ll be proving I can’t do it, that I would let dad down.” A lump rises I my throat and I feel it cutting off my air as I grip the fence tightly to stop from falling.

  “If I sell,” I whisper as Knight looks down at me with an expression I can’t read, “I’ll be proving them all right.”

  Chapter 15

  Kieran

  Sure, she’s seen some shit.

  But her dad believed in her. At least she had that. With everything that went to hell for her, she had a strong support system. So she’s got no fucking right to be complaining. My dad left me nothing but self-loathing and a broken family that I can’t fix.

  He left me with emotional scars that I’ve long since buried.

  When Emma tells Olivia it’s time to head in, I sense Olivia’s frustration. She doesn’t want to quit. She argues with Emma.

  “But I just got this down!” She says, her face twisting up in a way that leaves me knowing tonight is going to be rough. “I need to keep practicing.”

  Emma is all patience as she responds. “You’ve done so well today. You’re learning this faster than anyone I’ve taught ever has. Most people take a week to get this move perfect.” She pauses and smile as Olivia seems to calm a tiny bit. “Maybe you should be teaching my students.”

  Olivia lights up and I’m left wondering how the fuck she managed to say just the right thing to calm her down. There’s an endless patience in her that I can’t help but respect. As Olivia brings it in and we head to the barn, I find myself watching Emma’s ass as she walks.

  Fuck. Even the time with Jessica wasn’t enough to get me to stop thinking about Emma that way. As my cock wakes, I think about how it would feel to bend Emma over one of those saw horses she stores saddles on and press so deeply into her she screams…

  Shoving the thoughts away, I stare up at the ceiling and count to ten, thinking of every unsexy thing I can.

  And it hits me; I’m going about this all wrong.

  Emma throws a glance at me over her shoulder and I see a new warmth there. A warmth that I’d felt while she was talking to me. She’s trusting me. She thinks that, since she’s certain I hate her, that she can open up to me. Like I can’t think less of her. Or that even if I did, it wouldn’t matter to her.

  That’s just a hop, skip, and jump away from love, dear people.

  What if, just what if, I find another way to get to her and her farm?

  How many times has Olivia told me she wants to live on a farm? Every night since she stared these damn lessons. And I’ve blown her off every time, told her I can’t work in the middle of nowhere. That we have a home. That that kind of life isn’t for us.

  As we head home, I find myself talking to Olivia as I entertain evil plans.

  “You’re not even listening,” Olivia says, her tone rising to a whine.

  “Sorry, baby, I wasn’t. I am now, though,” I tell her, sensing a meltdown on the horizon.

  “I want to live on a farm!” She says, her voice rising to that squeal only girlfriends and dogs can hear.

  “But we can’t,” I tell her, hating that this is becoming such a point of contention. I want her to talk to me, to open up about what’s eating at her, but I don’t know how to handle things like this. Things I can’t fix or change.

  To my dismay, she only grows more unreasonable. “This is important to me!” She says, her voice nearing that shout that generally dissolves into tears. “You don’t even care!”

  “I do care,” I tell her. �
�I need you to calm down, though.” I say. Instantly I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

  “I hate you!” She shouts, and my jaw locks as pain lances through me. Her meltdowns are so rare I know I’m lucky. But when she has them, they’re ugly.

  “That’s a really mean thing to say,” I tell her, but she’s sobbing and I know she’s not hearing me. With a sigh, I try not to let it get to me. Kids say things when they’re mad. Things they don’t mean. I’m not my dad. I’m not going to hit her for saying she hates me. Even if she really did hate me – which I don’t think she does – I still wouldn’t punish her for feeling.

  I think about the time Connor told dad he hated him. Dad had been so drunk I’d managed to shove Conner out of the way. I took his beating that night. And a beating it had been. My knuckles tighten and turn white as the memory rolls over me. Dad had beat me with the buckle of his belt until he passed out drunk.

  When it was over, I’d been bruised and bloody. It had left me with a scar over my right shoulder where the buckle had cut me. Connor had stared at me, his gaze an apology and thanks all in one. But he’d never said it again.

  No, now he stands up for the piece of shit.

  When we pull into the garage, Olivia runs from the truck and slams the door behind her. I follow more slowly, deciding to give her her space. It’s better to let her be right now, I think. I’ll give her room to breathe, to calm down, to realize that we can’t just uproot and leave. This is our home. It’s safe. It’s guarded. It’s private and the cameras make certain I’ll know if I ever need to get her out in a hurry.

  Even the body guard, who keeps his distance and watches from afar, is always on guard for anything.

  Because this world isn’t safe for Olivia. And I’d die to protect her. I’ll take her anger, her hate, her temper tantrums even, to keep her safe.

  And I’ll do it all without ever letting her know how much danger she’s really in. She never needs to know that people are looking for her. That if they find her, everything will change. That some people want to hurt her just because of who she is. Because of me.