Secret: A Stone Billionaire Series Novel (The Stone Billionaire Series Book 5)

by Kaya Woodward

  Merc was like that too.

  He had intense, staring brown eyes that used to soothe me when I was tripping out.

  “It will be okay,” Evan says sincerely.

  He squeezes my hand tightly as the waitress comes to take our order.

  I wait until she’s gone.

  “I don’t believe that,” I confess.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore, but I just don’t believe that everything will turn out unless I do something about it. Honestly, that’s why I came when you called because I need to do something. Brett doesn’t care, my mother is just crowing over my father’s downfall, and with my father holed up in his cabin, he won’t even see me. I need to fix this,” I tell him urgently.

  “We will, Leigha” Evan says confidently.

  “Everything can be fixed; it just may take a while,” he says.

  It confirms my fear.

  Is it too late to regain what I’ve lost?

  “What if that’s not enough, Ev?” I ask.

  “Don’t be so afraid Leigha. We’ve got the upper hand. I know it,” Evan tells me.

  Evan’s confidence, however, isn’t the same as usual.

  His voice is missing something I cannot explain.

  I can see the worry lines that crease that handsome face of his, and it makes me worry for myself.

  For my father.

  “Is this it?” Evan asks.

  The building is an elaborate and prestigious, with a doorman and probably some sort of concierge inside.

  “How are we going to get inside?” I ask him, suddenly all in a panic.

  “Well, I was hoping we could just walk in, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen,” Evan says quietly.

  “We need to regroup, Evan! We’ll need a better plan than just strolling in the place,” I sigh.

  “That’s apparent,” Evan says sarcastically.

  “Don’t get snippy with me, Stone! This was your deal! You should’ve known more going into this,” I say.

  “Sorry, but the longer we’re in Paris, the harder it’s going to get to find the twins before my mother does something awful,” Evan replies.

  “That’s no reason to take it out on me,” I grumble.

  I quicken my pace and pull my coat tighter as I pass by him, walking away with the intention to let him cool off.

  “Hey, you don’t know your way around,” Evan says softly.

  Then, I feel his hand on my arm.

  I turn around.

  “Are you going to stop being a jackass?” I ask pointedly.

  “Fine. I concede,” he says.

  He gives me that stupid crooked smile he knows will break down my defenses.

  “Forgive me?” Evan says.

  He is devious.

  “Fine, I acquiesce and forgive you, but don’t make a habit out of it. If this is going to take a while I’m not going to put up with the bullshit that comes with it. I can find Elizabeth on my own,” I tease him.

  Evan links his arm through mine.

  “Leigha, if you find her, I will personally let you put the bullet through her head,” he declares.

  “No, you won’t, Evan. You want that for yourself too much,” I say.

  “Probably. You know, I’ve thought about it? Actually murdering my own mother! How sick is that Leigha?” Evan questions.

  “Not sick at all, considering the facts,” I comfort him.

  “We’ll all have to flip for it, I guess,” Evan admits.

  “Come on, let’s have a drink,” he says.

  We’re just about to stroll past a lively little bar, but instead, I find myself being dragged inside by the hand.

  I’m hardly dressed for this.

  I’m covered up more than every other woman in the room.

  Jeans and a long sleeve Henley, nothing designer and nothing fancy.

  Evan, at least, is in a suit, and can pass as one of the better part of the crowd.

  All around us are French men in elegant suits, and elegant women in French dresses.

  Evan and I are seated at the center of the bar.

  The loud beat of the music gives me a headache almost instantly.

  “Two shots of tequila,” Evan says, slapping down a bill.

  “Keep the change,” he says to the bartender.

  The man is absolutely delighted.

  “Merci, monsieur!” he replies.

  I just roll my eyes.

  “What? That’s how you get good service. Money is the same in every language,” he says.

  “You’ve said that before,” I reply, mulling over this tidbit of wisdom.

  “Can’t we just pay off Elizabeth and whomever she’s working for? Or whoever she has working for her? Don’t you have the ability to do that?” I ask.

  I drink a shot of the Tequila.

  It burns all the way down; but, at least it burns away my numbness.

  Evan pounds his down, slamming the empty shot glass onto the bar.

  He winces.

  “Two more,” Evan tells the bartender.

  The man is now glued to us, ready to bend to Evan’s will at a moment’s notice.

  “I wish I could buy her off, Leigha. In her case, money is never enough,” Evan admits, his eyes watering from the heat of the shot.

  He runs a hand through his hair, then exhales and shakes his head.

  “Ok. Enough. Let’s talk about something else,” he says.

  “I’m sick of all this chit-chat about my fucking family. As far as I’m concerned, I should’ve just gone back into the RAF when I had the fucking chance!” he tells me.

  “Then I wouldn’t be here,” I remind him.

  I slam another shot.

  It burns, but the heat feels good.

  “That’s right! Then I wouldn’t have my usual drinking buddy, and I’d have to wallow with Aidan, or even worse: Lucius,” Evan quips, and I know he’s feeling the booze already.

  “More shots,” I order the bartender.

  By now the man has memorized what we want and produces them instantly.

  Evan throws money at the bartender all night.

  I lose count of the number of shots we knock back.

  We while away the time.

  “I want to dance,” he tells me, suddenly.

  His eyes look into mine with a wild gleam in them.

  “So, go dance,” I shoot back.

  “No, come on, you never dance,” he insists.

  He grabs my arm, and tugs.

  I tug back.

  “That’s because I don’t dance,” I remind him.

  I’m slurring, and that fuzzy quality has come around.

  Fabulous.

  “I’m drunk,” I whine.

  “Even better!” Evan shouts over the music.

  It’s hard to just throw caution to the wind, but I let Evan drag me onto the dance floor.

  The bass has a beat that’s easy enough to follow, and Evan pulls me tight against him so that I can sway with his movements.

  It’s nice.

  Easy.

  Familiar.

  This is nothing new, but it feels strange in a way.

  It’s different somehow, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  It’s the alcohol, I decide, woozily.

  We grab more drinks.

  There’s laughter, and stumbling, and eventually, we pour out onto the street and into a taxi.

  Somehow, we make it to our hotel, through the marble lobby, and into the suite.

  The couch is as far as we get.

  Evan slumps down on it, and I lay down on him with my head in his lap.

  “You know…” he starts to talk.

  That’s all I hear before I pass out.

  5

  Evan

  February 30, 2018

  Leigha’s lips press softly against mine, and everything in my head twists around until I can’t think anymore.

  I’m kissing her, or she’s kissing me, I don’t know, and I don’t care abou
t the difference.

  My hands go into her hair, and I pull Leigha down on top of me, unable to resist whatever this is.

  How is this happening?

  “Leigha,” I whisper.

  “I’m here,” comes her low reply.

  Thoroughly engrossed in our kisses, I can’t think straight.

  I know this shouldn’t happen, but there’s no way to stop my hands from lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it off the couch.

  Without hesitation Leigha’s hands reach for my belt, undo my zipper, and then there’s the sudden relief of her lips suctioning my cock.

  My hands automatically tangle in her hair.

  “What?” Leigha’s voice enters my mind.

  I’m jolted from the dream as Leigha jumps up from where she was asleep, with her head still on my lap.

  “Oh, my God!” Leigha breathes.

  “What, what, what?” I ask.

  I’ve been thrown out of the dream, and back into reality, and for the first time, in my entire fucking life, I feel seriously embarrassed.

  Leigha rubs her eyes.

  “Jesus Christ, I don’t know what woke me up!” Leigha says.

  I guess maybe it was my throbbing boner, stuck in her ear.

  My pants still cover the bulge, and I sigh with relief.

  She’s breathing heavily, one hand over her heart as she looks around.

  I’ll bet my hands were in her hair.

  “I don’t know,” I stutter.

  “I think I’m still drunk,” she admits.

  Leigha bites her lip, her eyes downcast for a second before she looks up at me.

  Her eyes are wide, almost tinted blue in the morning sunlight and suddenly I’ve got the urge to kiss her, see what it’s really like without the influence of alcohol.

  She swallows hard.

  “We need to figure out what to do,” she tells me.

  “Right,” I say and just nod.

  I’m vaguely aware that my boner is raging, but Leigha either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it.

  What the fuck was that dream about?

  Suddenly I feel horny as all hell, and I’m really curious about the woman in front of me.

  Leigha’s perched on her knees beside me on the couch as she runs a hand through her caramel locks.

  “What happened last night?” she asks confused.

  I dreamt about you sucking my cock, that’s what happened.

  “Tequila,” comes my reply instead.

  “I smell like tequila,” she comments.

  Then, she sniffs and pulls a face.

  “Or, you do,” she adds.

  She hops off the couch and disappears into the bathroom.

  I hear the shower turn on and I finally relax.

  Guilt runs through me and not just because of my curiosity.

  Vic is barely in the ground.

  Then, it happens again; that choking feeling where I can’t breathe and suddenly everything spins around me.

  I have to put my head between my knees.

  Just the thought of Vic puts my stomach into knots, and my chest is so tight I’m afraid this is a heart attack.

  Confusion sets in, but I don’t know how long this goes on, because suddenly I feel a hand on my back, rubbing it slowly.

  Breath comes back to me.

  When I look up, Leigha is dripping wet in a towel with a concerned look on her face.

  “I heard you gasping, Ev. Are you okay?” her voice is soft.

  Leigha brings me back to reality.

  I’m alive, I will get through this.

  “I need to hold you,” I tell her.

  “Evan, I’m in a towel,” she protests.

  I pull her onto my lap anyway and wrap my arms around her tightly because I need to feel her warmth, a human body; anything to make the numbness go away.

  She doesn’t resist.

  Instead she just embraces me back, one hand still tightly holding the towel in place.

  Her long hair drips water all over me, but all the water does is remind me that this is real.

  I’ve lost something significant.

  It’s a long, long time before I let her go.

  I struggle with my tie for the tenth time, and Leigha moves my hands away from it, so that she can do it for me.

  “You were never any good at this,” she says, grinning lightly.

  “I know,” I admit.

  She sighs, and her head tilts up towards mine as she makes a perfect Windsor knot.

  That’s when it happen.

  I get a whiff of her hair, and suddenly she smells like home.

  The calm that settles over me doesn’t have an explanation.

  She’s comforting.

  I trust her.

  Leigha is a constant in my life no matter how badly I’ve fucked up in the past.

  “I’m sorry. You know that,” I say.

  The words just come out of my mouth.

  Leigha glances up at me, her hands paused against my chest.

  “For what?” she asks, confused.

  “I shouldn’t have let things carry on the way they did, that night. I should’ve known better,” I tell her.

  Leigha presses her lips together.

  “Evan, I’m a grown woman. I knew what it was,” she says, excusing my actions.

  “But, it wasn’t right for me to do that,” I protest.

  “Evan, just stop, okay? It’s done, it’s over, and we’re past that. Who cares? It’s all in the past, and it feels so insignificant now,” she explains.

  “I’m not talking about months ago with the tequila,” I explain.

  “Oh,” Leigha says.

  “Well, I knew better too-” she starts.

  “But-” I interrupt.

  “Evan, it’s done,” she stops me.

  I nod.

  I’m not sure where this guilt comes from, but it’s there and palpable.

  “Can you just forgive me?” I beg.

  Leigha finishes with my tie and pats it lightly.

  “Evan, there’s nothing to forgive,” she tells me.

  Her words are slow and careful, as though she’s given this some thought.

  “You’re sure?” I ask.

  “Why are you pushing this?” she questions.

  Then, she narrows her eyes.

  “I just can’t lose you too,” I say, quietly.

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Leigha assures me.

  “Come on,” she changes the subject.

  I step out of the taxi and hold the door open for Leigha in front of the building.

  There’s no guarantee that this plan is going to work, but it’s the only shot we’ve got.

  The Concierge greets us with an air of disdain, and I see the look of annoyance on Leigha’s face.

  “Monsieur, Madame,” the Concierge sneers.

  Leigha immediately fires off a volley of perfect French at a pace so rapid I would think it’s her first language.

  All I know is ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi’?

  “Oui,” the shocked man says in a strangled voice.

  “Could you please sign the book, Monsieur?” he says as he turns to me.

  “Of course,” I say.

  I wonder what exactly Leigha said to him because he seems afraid of her now.

  He hands over the keys to the apartment that’s for sale, as Leigha continues to fire rapid-paced questions at him in his native tongue.

  Evan Bergmann is what I sign.

  Just in case anyone happens to look at the book later.

  I don’t want to make it too obvious, so I use Leigha’s last name.

  “Follow me,” Leigha requests.

  We step into the elevator in silence before she bursts into peals of laughter.

  “What did you say to him?” I say, trying to laugh with her.

  “I told him we had an appointment and if he was unable to fulfill his duties I was sure his superiors could find someone better suited to the position
,” she giggles.

  “Ah, the old threaten to get them fired. Think he believed you?” I ask.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Leigha says.

  Then, she shrugs.

  “Who cares?” she asks me.

  “Not me, that’s for damn sure,” I reply.

  The elevator dings open to the top floor and I squeeze her hand gently before I lead her down the hallway to PH1.

  It’s all the way at the far end.

  “So, what now? Do we knock?” Leigha asks nervously.

  I twist the door handle, and it’s open.

  “Shit,” I say.

  “Think he’s home?” Leigha asks.

  “Only one way to find out,” I reply.

  I unholster my Glock before I twist the door handle and shove the door all the way open.

  The door swings and slams against the wall behind it as Leigha lets out a gasp.

  “Oh, my God!” she gasps, her voice so low I barely hear it.

  6

  Leigha

  February 30, 2018

  The one man I do not expect to be standing in front of me is standing in the middle of the elegantly decorated penthouse apartment.

  It’s not Isaac Miller, like I assumed it would be.

  It’s Merc.

  He sees me, and we stare at each other.

  My heart stops.

  Time stops.

  “Leigha…” Merc says, his voice trailing off.

  He drops the papers in his hands, as stunned as I am.

  I stomp across the room angrily and slap Merc right across the face, and the sharp sound echoes through the penthouse.

  “I deserve that,” Merc mutters as he wipes his hand across his face.

  “Of course, you do, you son-of-a-bitch!” I reply.

  I hear Evan close the door behind me, and I’m reminded of the fact that there’s no shock on his face, so I whirl around on him.

  Evan is not the man to be mad at, but I don’t understand my raging feelings at all.

  “Did you know?” I ask, dumbfounded.

  If Evan knew about Merc being alive, and didn’t tell me, I’m not going to forgive him!

  “I found out recently,” Evan admits sheepishly.

  I grit my teeth, and feel my face heating up with anger!

  I grind my teeth together and that familiar ache in my jaw returns.