Shattered Billionaire: A Bad Boy Romance Series (Books 1-10)

by Kylie Parker

  Our mom had passed away a few years before. Our dad was dead, and we were still in mourning about that. I can’t imagine the emotion of still being broken about the loss of a parent and then getting this! It makes me so angry that I’m almost feeling sick. I am sick. My throat tightens, and I fight back any tears. How could my father be so damn cruel? He really couldn’t have even said I love you? Even if it would have been a lie –he couldn’t tell him something like he always thought of him as a son or some cheesy line like that? No, he was too proud. He had to be an asshole even in his final moments. Take care of my son for me. Best of luck to you…. That’s how he ended things with Eddie? Take care of my son –as if Eddie had not spent his entire childhood and most of his adult life believing that he too was this man’s son?

  It’s all too much. I feel tears stream down my face, and I am really wishing that this damn office was more closed off. I lean forward and rest my forehead on the end of the desk so that I can just stare down at the floor until I can get a hold of myself. I have never been so hurt and so angry in my life.

  42

  I am waiting outside of the hospital for Kate and her kids. I am going to make sure that she is put on the approval guest list of visitors for Eddie. If she wants to see her brother, I shouldn’t be able to stop her. I guess I realize now that she and his other half-siblings are just as much Eddie’s family as I am.

  “No, stop!” I hear Kate’s voice shouting, “I said hold my hand!”

  I chuckle; she’s in mom mode. I turn around to look towards the walkway that leads away from the parking deck, and I feel a slight discomfort in my stomach. There is a whole damn pack of them coming my way. Damn! She only showed me pictures of three kids –how many of them are there? I count nine. Nine fucking kids, and I swear, they all look like they have different daddies. This stripper mom could not possibly be any more of a stereotype.

  She is pushing a stroller, holding one kids hand, and shooing the other seven into a line behind her. Holy hell, woman! Single mom? How does she manage that pack of animals? The oldest one, Bobby, is carrying one of the younger ones on his hip and holding another one’s hand. “James!” Kate smiles a smile of relief when she sees me standing out front, and I wave her and the kids over.

  Much to my surprise, the kids all seem fairly well behaved as they stand around my feet with their hands crossed in front of them nice and quietly. They all seem a bit uncomfortable meeting me for the first time. “James, this is Bobby, Lana, and Jack,” she points to the oldest of the three kids who all are giving me this eat-shit look with their arms crossed, “I showed you their pictures,” she then introduces the younger ones: a nine-year-old named Tommy, seven year old twin girls Julie and Jamie, another set of twins –boys this time named William and Jacob who are five, and the young and sleeping baby named Eddie who is in the stroller.

  Once the introductions are over, the oldest boy Bobby gives me this angry stare and asks, “How come they would let you in to see Uncle Eddie but not us?”

  “I’m his brother.” I say.

  “He’s my uncle,” Bobby says, “But I guess that don’t mean shit.”

  Well, he’s a little fucking charmer. He looks like a little punk, and I kind of want to punch him in the face –not that I would. “I’m sure there was just a misunderstanding at the hospital,” I say, “But I’m here to fix it.”

  “Be nice, Bobby,” Kate warns her eldest son.

  He’s trying to act like a little badass in front of me, but it’s coming off as ridiculous with one of the five-year-old twins on his hip. He has riding gloves on with the fingers torn off and a stupid green streak through his hair. “Whatever.” He says, and I feel a weird parental instinct in me that wants to shout at him not to be rude to his mother, but it’s not my place. He just looks like a kid that would drop out of school.

  We head inside the hospital together and I am quick to realize I’m not going to get on the good side of the older kids too easily, so I talk and joke around with the younger kids. Both sets of twins really seem to like me. So does the nine-year-old, Tommy. Kate smiles to see that I am talking to her kids.

  Once we’re inside we take the elevator to the floor where the coma patients are, and I speak to the woman at the desk about Kate and have her put on a sort of approved guest list. The nurse points down at the children, “How old are all of they? They can’t come back there if they’re under fourteen.”

  I see this absolute look of hate on Bobby’s face, and I worry that he is about to say something and smart off to the nurse. I cut him off and pull the nurse aside to talk. “Look, they came a long way to see their uncle,” I say, “And you’ve seen Eddie. We don’t know what’s going to happen to him. Are you telling me you’re not going to let them back there?”

  The nurse presses her lips together, poking them out as she makes this duck-like face and contemplates her next move. “Fine, but so you know, Mr. Mont, but only because you’re here. There is no way I would let someone back there by themselves with that many underage kids. Understand? Make sure she knows that before she tries to come back here.”

  I nod, and we wind up heading back to the room where Eddie is being kept. The children all become very quiet when they see Eddie. I have to admit that it’s a scary scene with that bruised and swollen face, the tube down his throat, the bandages, the IV, and the loud beeping machines that are keeping him alive. Kate looks almost ghostly as she approaches Eddies’ bedside and kisses his forehead.

  I study each of the children’s faces. The younger ones look sketched out –like they’re afraid of Eddie all of a sudden. That comes from a lack of understanding I’m sure. Lana and Jack are mostly uncomfortable as they put on brave faces and shift their weight from one foot to the other. It’s Bobby’s face that surprises me the most. There is a whole mix of emotions under that natural scowl of his. “So,” Kate turns and looks at me, “what have the doctors been saying about Eddie”

  Before I have a chance to answer the question, Bobby suddenly bolts out of the room. Kate jolts, but then she hesitates, obviously not wanting to leave me alone with eight kids while she chased after one. “I got him,” I say in the most reassuring tone that I can muster. I am not very confident in that statement, but she lets me chase after him. I dart out into the hall, but Bobby didn’t go far.

  The kid is standing in the hallways, his hands on the back of his head –pulling at his hair. His face is covered in tears, and he seems to be almost hyperventilating over what he had just seen. “I’m not going back in there,” he says, his voice gurgling slightly from his attempt to stifle his sobs.

  “Okay,” I say, “But I’m staying out here with you.”

  One of his hands come out from behind his head and does an awkward wave towards the door of the room, “is he gonna die?”

  I say honestly, “I don’t know.”

  His hands are practically shaking when they come down off his head, “This is bullshit, man.” His voice is just as shaky as his hands. “Why is this happening to Eddie? Who the fuck did this? Who would do this?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, “But we’re going to find out who.” I stare at the kid. He looks completely broken. “Your mom tells me you and Eddie are close.”

  He nods. “I never really had a dad, but Eddie-” his voice trails off.

  “What about your stepdad?” I ask curiously, “Your mom told me he passed away five years ago-”

  Eddie grunts, “Who? Tony? That drunk asshole beat the shit out of me, and he and mom were only together for like a year before he got himself killed fighting at the club.”

  “Geeze, kid.” I say, “You’ve had it rough, haven’t you?”

  “Man, shut the hell up. I don’t need your damn sympathy.” He says, his fists suddenly forming at his sides.

  “Kid, put those away before you hurt yourself,” I say, “And stop cussing at me, you little brat.” I take a calming breath. “Eddie’s my brother. Don’t think you’re the only one who’s upset about all
of this.”

  “I know who you are.” He says, “Trust me. Eddie would talk about you like you were something so great. You seem like you’re just a washed up playboy to me.”

  Damn. That one hit home. “Fine,” I say, “Think of me what you want. But just so you know, I do care, Bobby. And I’m doing everything in my power to find out what happened to Eddie. Whoever did this is going to pay for it. And I got to tell you, the bastard who hurt Eddie better hope the cops find him instead of me because I just might kill him.”

  “Get in line,” Bobby said and let out a loud grunt.

  “You don’t have to act like a tough guy with me, you know? Something tells me you didn’t act that way with Eddie.” I offer him a gentle smile, and he sort of half-heartedly nods at me. After some coaxing, I talked Bobby into coming back into the room to continue his uncomfortable visit with his uncle.

  43

  I tell Sylvia all about Kate and her family, particularly about Bobby and his close relationship he had developed with Eddie after only a few years. As always, she is undeniably supportive and kind. The two of us wind up going to a bar as a minor celebration of my account being opened up again. I at least have my personal account, so I can finally take Sylvia on a date. It’s nothing too lavish; it had actually been her idea to go to some sleazy bar to drink and listen to some music by a shitty local band while stuffing our faces with fattening bar food. As athletes, we rarely treat ourselves to such foods.

  Dinner is kind of depressing despite the upbeat music. I have too much to complain about, and the beer is cheap. Halfway through dinner Sylvia’s phone starts going off. It’s her boss. She tries shrugging it off, but it keeps ringing. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I got to answer this.” She steps out of the bar and returns just a few minutes later with this pout on her face. “James, I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

  I understand, and I tell her I’ll see her later. Now I just have one more excuse to be bummed out, so I drink even more. A lot more. As a matter of fact, I think I’m already drunk. I switch from beer to margarita to scotch to vodka…to hell if I know what. I’m mixing my drinks like a dumbass. Soon I’m so drunk that I can hardly keep up with what is going on. I black out for a minute, and the next thing I know I’m in an unfamiliar car.

  “What?” I groan loudly, trying to recall how I got here. I am so wasted it’s stupid. There are just literally too many troubles I’m trying to drown all at once.

  “Oh just shut up,” I hear a woman say, and I focus and realize my lawyer is driving the car.

  “Lillian?” I slur. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s my car, you idiot,” She says and pops me in the ear, making my head spin even worse than before.

  I don’t remember what happens next. Suddenly I’m in someone house. Am I at Lillian’s house? Geeze, how much did I drink? How did I get here? Oh yeah, the car… why did she come get me? Did I call Lillian?

  “Just be glad you drunk dialed me, you dumbass.” I hear Lillian say, “This would have hurt your case if anyone saw you, you realize that, right?” Suddenly there is a gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I can’t focus enough to actually see Lillian, but I can hear her voice. “No! Hell no! You are not throwing up on my new carpet!”

  Somehow this small trash bin appears in my lap, so I make use of it. Oh, tomorrow is really going to suck. Why would I do this to myself? I hear a door open. I look up, and I am able to focus just enough to see another woman entering through what appears to be a front door. Holy hell; she’s gorgeous. She’s tall and thin, and she has short choppy hair that is styled shorted on one side than the other. She’s wearing a white suit jacket and matching tight skirt. “Who’s your friend, Lilly?” she sings as she enters.

  “One of my stupid clients,” Lillian says, talking as though I am not even in the room. Am I that far gone?

  “Should I call for an ambulance? He looks pretty fucked up.” The woman says.

  Damn –she thinks I need a hospital? I must have really overdone it this time if I look that bad. “No, babe,” I hear Lillian say, “He’ll be fine. Just help me watch him, would you? I need a shower. He threw up on my shoes in the car.”

  Oops. I threw up on her shoes? Babe? Is this Lillian’s wife? I knew she was a lesbian, and she had shown me a picture in her office once… but I can’t remember what the woman in the photograph had looked like. “Who are you?” I ask, and I can hear how stupid I sound.

  “Call me Daisy, cutie.” She says.

  “Knock it off,” Lillian warns, “Just watch him so I can go shower, damn!”

  “Don’t take it out on me, all right?” Daisy says and plops down next to me on the couch. Lillian disappears, and I’m alone with my lawyer’s wife.

  I try to start a conversation with her, but I am not making any sense. She laughs like she thinks I am an absolute idiot. I think I must be to have gotten this drunk –and why the hell did I call my lawyer of all people to come pick me up? Why not Éclair? Why not Eddie… oh, yeah, fuck I’m so drunk! Daisy gently nudges me, and I swat at her like she’s a fly. “Fuck off!” I warn.

  Daisy suddenly starts playing with my hair. Is she flirting with me? Maybe she’s bisexual? Surely she is not flirting with me and it’s that I’m just too drunk to tell what’s going on? “What’s wrong? Rough day?” She teases.

  I hate drunk me. Drunk me is a little bitch. I have various levels of drunk. First stage is happy. Second stage is still happy but is past the hugging stage and more of the happy so long as no one fucks with me stage. Third stage is really goofy and stupid and thinks that getting on eBay to order random shit for sober me to figure out would be hilarious; this is also the stage where I can either be your best friend or beat the shit out of you if you piss me off. Then there is stage four –so drunk that I become an emotional sack of a man. I rarely get to stage four. I start blubbering like an idiot in front of this complete stranger. I know she can’t even understand what I’m saying, hell, I can’t even understand what I’m saying. I know I’m talking about Eddie. She looks at me with these big puppy-dog eyes, “You poor thing,” she says, “You must be James. Lillian told me about you and your situation. Damn, you’ve got it rough all right, don’t you, big guy?”

  Well isn’t she just sweet? This is my rock bottom –crying my ass off on a couch at my lawyer’s house to her lesbian wife while I throw up in a small trash can. I definitely have never sunk this low before. I suddenly smell coffee, and Daisy is taking the trash can away from me and handing me a cup of black coffee. “Thanks,” I say, and she smiles at me.

  “Well, well, well,” she says, “that actually sounded like English. Feeling a little better, are we?”

  The room is still spinning, but I can at least focus enough to look at her now. I hear Lillian’s voice again. “Thank God,” she says, “I thought I would never get that smell off me. Freaking dumbass.” I turn and see Lillian coming out of a bedroom with a towel in her hair wearing a robe. I must have blacked out at some point because I feel as though she had just walked back to the bathroom to shower. You don’t do a quick rinse when someone throws up on you. You scrub.

  “Leave him alone, Lilly, the poor guy is depressed.”

  I suddenly start laughing. Like hard. Really hard. Oh my God, make it stop… I can’t stop. Lillian crosses her arms and shoots me this really pissed off face, “What’s so funny all of a sudden, you little bitch? I could hear you crying over my shower head.”

  “Your names are fucking Lilly and Daisy!” I laugh. Oh my God, James, stop talking. I can’t. “You’re both named after flowers. That’s the gayest most lesbian thing I’ve ever heard!” Oh for the love of God, why am I still talking?

  Lillian does not look amused, but Daisy is laughing right along with me. “Lilly, he’s funny drunk.” She says playfully and puts her hands on my shoulders. I think she’s rubbing my shoulders. Is she rubbing my shoulders? Yes, she is definitely doing that.

  I hear Lillian say, “Don’t even fucking think about
it.”

  Think about what? God, I’m so drunk. “Come on, Lillian, you know I’ve always wanted to-” Daisy sings her response.

  “He’s a client, Daisy.” Lillian snaps. “And he smells like puke.”

  Suddenly Daisy is not beside me anymore. I think I keep missing chunks of the evening because I don’t remember her ever getting up to leave my side. I can hear the two of them arguing about me in the kitchen. Lillian pours herself a glass of wine, and suddenly I’m in the bathtub with Daisy hosing me off. I don’t remember getting in here. Damn it, how drunk am I? I blame it on the margaritas… and the scotch… and the beer… and myself…

  Is she washing my hair? Yup.

  Daisy is a little flirt. It’s hard to believe she is with someone as professional as Lillian. They probably balance each other out. “Feeling better?” she asks as she lathers my back and arms with soap. This is really embarrassing. Did I really throw up on myself enough to where she felt that I need a bubble bath?

  The next thing I know she’s helping me stand. I have to hold onto her shoulders to get out of the tub without falling over. She wraps a towel around my waist and slowly leads me out of the bathroom saying, “We got your clothes in the wash. Unfortunately, we don’t exactly have any men’s clothes lying around, so I hope the towel is okay.” She giggles.

  We enter into the bedroom, and there is Lillian in nothing but this silky robe. She has a glass of wine in her hand. I notice Daisy give her these pleading eyes. Lillian looks at us from across the room, sighs, and puts down her wine. “James… just how drunk are you right now?”