Bad Billionaires Box Set

by Elise Faber

  A frigid calm swept down my spine. “Who is?”

  “A fucking yoga instructor your whore of a mother slept with in Maui. Can you believe it? She tried to come to me, to get me to fuck her. Probably thought she could hide the truth, but I knew. I knew! She—”

  I breathed out slowly, trying, one, to come to terms with my Star-Wars-Luke-I-am-your-father-moment and, two, to thank my lucky stars that Jordan wasn’t my brother.

  That would have been the flipping twist to end all twists in the sordid tale that was my childhood.

  “So why didn’t you divorce her?”

  He scoffed. “Robertses do not divorce. I wasn’t about to pay her half of everything just because she couldn’t keep her legs closed.”

  “Wow,” I said. “I would have thought that a Roberts wouldn’t get married without a prenup.”

  “Prenups are a requirement now. Believe me.”

  I sat down, leaned back against the tub. “I don’t know if I can believe anything you say,” I said.

  “I think that’s my line.”

  I ignored the quip and instead asked, “Why didn’t you send me away? If you hate me so much, why keep me in your life?”

  “I don’t hate you,” he said, then his voice went hard. “Or I didn’t until you pulled your little stunt today.”

  “Hopefully that will teach you not to take things that aren’t yours.”

  “I’ve got some of the best coders in the industry.”

  “Some, I think, is the key word,” I shot back. “RoboTech has the absolute best working on this and”—I pulled my phone from my ear to check the time—“I’d open my email in about five minutes. I think you’ll be canceling that release.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Let’s just say, if you’re pissed now, I expect a monumental explosion when you open that email.” I pressed on when he tried to interrupt, saying, “I don’t understand anything about what happened between my mother and you. Why the elaborate gifts and birthday parties?” I laughed though it wasn’t humor-filled. “I guess I understand why you were so forceful when it came to sending me away to boarding school after she left. But everything beyond that, I don’t get. Why the job offer? Why the trust fund? Why pay for college?”

  He was quiet for so long that I thought he’d hung up.

  “Money is the easy part,” he said. “Emotions are too complicated.”

  “That’s it?” I asked when he didn’t say anything else.

  “That’s it.”

  Wow. Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better. No wonder my mother . . . no. That wasn’t an excuse, no matter how cold and difficult my father—Bernie was. There wasn’t a justifiable reason for parading through lives and men and marriages, wreaking havoc as she pranced.

  There was no reason to leave me behind.

  “I guess I won’t be over for Christmas tomorrow,” I said.

  “No. I don’t think you should come.”

  A slice of pain pulsed through my heart.

  “For the record,” he said. “That trap you and Heather pulled off today was pretty good.”

  “I almost think that was a compliment,” I said, forcing my emotions down and trying to keep my tone light. I could cry later, after I’d digested everything he said. Now, I wouldn’t let him hear me crumble. “From the discerning Bernie Roberts. Someone knock me over with a feather.” A fake laugh. “Good chat. Can’t wait for the next one.”

  Just before I hung up, he spoke. “You were a beautiful baby, Abs.”

  Then he was gone.

  God, my family was seriously fucked up.

  Spending Christmas Day at the hospital just a little more than a week after spending a birthday unconscious in the same hospital wasn’t on any kid’s wish list, but Hunter was a trooper nonetheless.

  He was more alert than the days previous and super excited about the package Jordan brought in.

  Which contained a prototype of RoboTech’s robot. Complete in shiny, brightly colored packaging that I had designed.

  Which looked amazing—but that was just my opinion—so I was extra nervous as he tore open off the Santa print wrapping paper and studied the box.

  “A robot!” he said, immediately ignoring all of the painstakingly designed details and tearing straight into the cardboard. “Can I make it move?”

  Jordan nodded and helped him retrieve the little robot. “You sure can.”

  “And jump?”

  Another nod.

  “And talk?”

  “Yes,” Jordan said. “At least a few words.”

  I could have waxed poetic to him about the balance and composition, how I’d spent hours looking for the perfect shadow-free image that didn’t have the models—a pair of six-year-old twins, one boy and one girl—looking like they were insane, crazed, or trying to murder each other.

  But I didn’t.

  Because his enthusiasm to get inside the packaging was exactly why I’d spent so long creating it.

  I didn’t want kids to study the box in confusion—to try to figure out what was inside.

  I wanted them to know the contents immediately . . . and then be unable to wait another second before tearing it open and playing with that toy.

  Hunter doing just that pleased me beyond belief.

  However, there was one detail he’d missed in his enthusiasm that I wanted to make sure he noticed.

  That the little girl who’d felt so lonely and discarded inside me needed to make sure he understood. Because he was special and good and sweet and even though his father was gone and his mother had left, he still deserved to know that he was loved.

  That Jordan loved him.

  And that I loved him too, but that portion of the story could wait until another day.

  Jordan was installing the batteries as I rounded the bed and started scooping up the paper and cardboard.

  “Hey,” I said, holding a piece up to Hunter. “Whose name is that?”

  He frowned, little blond brows coming together for a half second before his eyes went wide. “That’s my name!”

  Jordan nodded. “Yeah, bud, it is.”

  “Cool!”

  And then Hunter’s attention went right back to the robot.

  Which was exactly how it should have been.

  I tossed the trash into the can and then went to sit by Cecilia.

  “This,” I said, reaching into my purse and pulling out a card, “is for you.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened. “I-I didn’t get you anything.”

  “You didn’t have to,” I said, closing her fingers around the card. “But a little birdie gave me hints about something you might like. And this is open-ended so you can use it when you’re ready.”

  Cecilia’s expression was careful. “Uh, okay?”

  I smiled. “Okay is good. Just open it. I promise it will make more sense if you do.”

  She carefully tore open the envelope and pulled out what was inside. It was a round-trip plane ticket to Finland and behind that a voucher for a very special hotel.

  Cecilia gasped. “For—”

  I nodded. “For the Northern Lights. I heard that you really want to see them.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, her chin bobbed jerkily. “I-I do. I’ve always wanted to go, but I can’t accept . . .”

  Carefully, I closed her fingers around the papers. “You can.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Or rather, you will.”

  “Abby—”

  “Shh,” I said. “Just hug me and accept. And”—I touched her arm—“promise me that when we’re out of the woods here, you’ll go.”

  “I—” She blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything,” I told her. “Hugs.” I extended my arms, gesturing with my fingers at her to come on and do it already. “Then tuck that envelope into your purse and plan a trip.”

  “You’re stubborn,” she said, but hugged me all the same.

  “Thank you for being there for Hunter
,” I whispered. “I don’t know what he would have done without you.”

  “I love him,” she said simply.

  “And he loves you.”

  We both sniffed, holding tight until the sound of Hunter’s unmistakable giggles reached us. Then we pulled back and gazed over at the boys. They were huddled on the bed, Jordan’s arm around Hunter as he showed him how to program the robot.

  “He loves him too,” Cecilia said. “And you.”

  “I know.” I smiled. “And the feeling is completely mutual.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “You!” Bec pointed a finger at Jordan, who’d answered the door. “Shoo. You”—she turned that finger to me—“need to be sitting on the couch, getting ready to be pampered.”

  Seraphina stood behind her, arms laden with bags. “Move it, princess,” she said, nudging Bec to the side. “You were so worried about your manicure that you couldn’t carry the bags, the least you could do is move that big ole butt of yours out of the way.”

  Bec made to smack her then stopped, flashing me her freshly painted nails. “Gel manicure,” she stage-whispered. ”I just didn’t want to carry the bags.”

  Seraphina gasped in outrage. “You—”

  “Ladies,” Jordan interrupted firmly. “What’s going on?” His gaze flicked to the doorway again. “Cecilia? Is everything okay?”

  She nodded, glancing around uncomfortably. “Hunter’s fine. Umm. Bec wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Heather’s with Hunter for a few hours,” Seraphina said. “Auntie time.” She shooed him toward the hall. “Which means that you are going to go see a movie or go to the mall or something.”

  “What am I going to do at the mall?”

  Seraphina rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t care. What I do care about is sneaking in a few hours of Abby time without you tagging along.”

  “Hey, that’s—”

  “We like you, God of Thunder,” Bec said, “but you’re cramping our style.”

  “I-uh—” Jordan turned to me and I tried not to smile. I knew my friends, knew they could railroad just about anyone, let alone someone with a soft heart like Jordan. All things considered, I was rather enjoying the show.

  “Don’t look at me,” I said. “I love spending time with you.”

  Bec made a barfing sound. “Gross.”

  Jordan shook his head, crossed to the couch—Bec had pushed me down onto the cushions and covered my lap with a blanket. He kissed me, long and slow and deep, leaving me a breathless lump before he pulled back. “I’m coming back in two hours.”

  I nodded, maybe dumbly, definitely dazed.

  “Damn,” Seraphina said, setting the stacks of bags on the coffee table. “I think I came just watching that. What happened to Hair-Trigger Hammer?”

  I snorted. “Apparently he was just out of practice.”

  “I’d take some of that out of practice.”

  We all froze and stared at Cecilia, whose cheeks were bright pink.

  “I—uh—” she stammered.

  “Told you you’d love her,” Bec said to Seraphina, nudging her with her elbow.

  “Shh,” Seraphina said. “You’re being rude.”

  “Both of you are being ridiculous,” I said and patted the couch. “Sit over here, Cecilia. I think I smell chocolate.”

  “We have dark chocolate,” Bec said, dropping to her knees to begin unpacking bags. “It’s good for the baby.”

  “And for us,” Seraphina said, pulling out a pair of pajamas from a bag and tossing them at Cecilia. “These are for you.”

  Cecilia’s eyes bugged out when she saw the tag. “These—I can’t! They’re too expensive.”

  “Girl,” Bec said. “Your innuendo now means that we’re forever friends and as such, you will accept all gifts of chocolate and ridiculously expensive pajamas forevermore.”

  I snorted.

  “You must have really low standards for friendship,” Cecilia muttered.

  Then promptly clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Seraphina and Bec glanced at each other then at me, bursting into laughter. “Well, that much is obvious,” Bec said.

  “Hey!” I laughed.

  “Oh, my God,” Cecilia said, words slightly muffled. “I did not just say that.”

  “You did.” Bec grinned. “Which just proves our friendship standards. We live by three rules: be snarky, make every conversation dirty, and wear extremely expensive but excessively cozy pajamas.”

  “Now go,” Seraphina said. “Bathroom is the third door on the left.”

  I rolled my eyes at the idea of my best friend giving directions in my house—Cecilia had been over enough times by now to know every nook and cranny—and caught the pair that Seraphina tossed me.

  “Maternity edition,” she said, brushing her hand over the little bump that was my baby. “Go change.”

  “I’ll help,” Jordan quipped, waggling his eyebrows at me. He’d changed into jeans and put on a jacket.

  “I bet you would,” Bec cackled. “But we don’t have seconds to spare.”

  Jordan’s gaze met mine and he shook his head. Still, his eyes were amused. “Your friends are something else.”

  I grinned. “I know.”

  Bec took Jordan’s arm and led him to the door to the garage. There she patted his cheeks—the upper then the lower—and shoved him out. “You’ll do, Thor. You’ll just do.”

  She closed the door and turned back toward us. “Okay. I need chocolate and a movie that will make me cry. STAT.”

  Four Weeks Later

  “Can we go? Can we go?” Hunter asked, little butt wiggling in his bed. “I’m ready to go home.”

  Hunter was being discharged today. Finally.

  Well, the finally was all him. I personally thought that the stay was too short, that he should be monitored and under watch just to make sure everything was going okay. He had a new heart and so many things could go wrong and—

  “Abby!”

  I blinked. “Sorry, what?”

  “Is it time to go?”

  “We just need to wait for the doctor to put in the discharge instructions and we’re out of here, bud,” Jordan said, gathering up the last of Hunter’s things and putting them into a clear plastic bag. “I’ll run these to the car. You two good?”

  Hunter sighed. “I want to go home.”

  “I know, honey,” I said, signaling to Jordan that we were fine. “Unfortunately, these things sometimes just take time.”

  He scowled. “Where’s CeCe?”

  “At home, getting everything all ready for you.”

  Another sigh, but he turned back to the robot, tinkering again, adding more details, tweaking the programing—not that he would call it that. The Hunter robot was just learning a new trick. But I could see why it was the perfect toy for real life Hunter.

  Something that would keep him semi-stationary.

  It was hard to tell he’d even had a transplant just a little over a month before. I’d never really realized how sick he was, how pale-gray and weak, until compared to this version of Hunter.

  Healthy and pink skinned.

  “I want to come with you and Jordan,” he said.

  “Soon,” I told him.

  We needed to be within a half hour of the hospital and its transplant center for a few more months. Then Hunter would move into my—to our—house.

  “But we’ll visit every day,” I said. “And Jordan will be there and—”

  “Yeah.”

  I frowned. “What’s going on, honey?”

  “I—” Pale blue eyes filled with tears. “Are you going to leave, too?”

  My heart clenched, but I forced my voice to stay calm. “No, honey. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

  “Okay,” he said, but the word wasn’t confident.

  I wished there was something I could say that would make him believe that I was going to be around for the long haul, that I loved him too much already to possibly think
about leaving and never coming back.

  But I knew from personal experience it wasn’t that easy.

  Once a child’s trust was truly broken . . . well, some things couldn’t be repaired.

  There were always cracks, valleys that never quite healed.

  “Did you know my mom left too?” I asked, brushing back his hair.

  His eyes flew up to mine, surprised.

  “I was sad for a long time,” I said. “But eventually I realized she hadn’t left because of me.”

  Hunter’s gaze fell on the bed. “If I hadn’t gotten sick . . .”

  I wrapped my arms tightly around him and said the only thing I could. “It’s not your fault.”

  He shuddered, sniffed, and I held on.

  “Sometimes things in life really suck. Sometimes things aren’t fair. Sometimes people are mean.” I pressed a kiss to his head. “But that’s the time to hold on to people who are nice, who love you, and who see you for the awesome, wonderful eight-year-old you are.”

  Hunter’s little arms wrapped around my waist. “I do have a robot named after me.”

  I smiled, feeling tears well in my eyes. “That you do.”

  My stomach fluttered and I gasped, pressing my hand to it.

  “What?” Hunter asked, pulling back.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, trying to memorize the feeling. It was the baby moving. I knew it. I felt that in the depths of my soul. And the tears that had been welling escaped from the corners of my eyes.

  “Abby?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, dashing them away. I cried at cleaning commercials lately, so it wasn’t a surprise that feeling my baby for the first time made me teary. But I didn’t want to make Hunter worry.

  “Is it the baby?”

  My jaw dropped open. We hadn’t mentioned one word about the baby, not wanting to add another layer of stress to the already stressful situation for Hunter. He’d already been through so much that I didn’t want him to think Jordan would drop him for a new baby.

  But apparently, we hadn’t been so good at hiding the fact that I was pregnant.

  “The baby is fine,” I quickly assured him when I saw the worried look on his face. “I just felt him or her move for the first time.”