The Billionaire's Heart: Always Mine (A Billionaire Love Story Book 1)

by J. S. Brent

  He will not let himself be manipulated by Paula’s who determined to hang her frustration on others. She’d not only been separated from Adam but had also been apart from her son for months. Words had it that the social welfare had taken custody of young Jake, until she’d been declared fit to assume the responsibility of a good mother.

  He wished Kate could stay and hear his own side of the story. He was willing to protect her from Paula and anyone else who could make her cry, but she was running away from him perhaps under the impression he was after her life that night.

  His thoughts drifted high and low while the fear of losing her forever paralyzed his legs as he tried to take a break. His car embraced a huge truck and within a couple of minutes a huge crowd had gathered to help the casualties that ended up in the hospital.

  Her heart tore in distress while family and friends paid their respects. A huge picture frame stood in one corner of the gigantic room and her eyes scanned them occasionally.

  “He was a loving man, mom” Kate leaned over her palms to dismiss the thoughts that buzzed in her head and in her heart.

  “May his soul rest in peace.” Emily added, with a sad nod as he took her daughter’s hand into hers.

  The passing of Dan left an open wound which she sought to heal my moving to her job post. She’d applied to work as a private practitioner with one of her friends at Sicily. She’d forgiven Dan and had decided to start anew. He’d given her reasons why he’d plunged into Paula’s schemes but as their relationship progressed, Dan explained, he’d seen the angel in Kate and was willing to protect her from Paula at all cost. Nature called and he had no choice but to answer.

  The tall beautiful trees flanked the suburban terrain while the passengers awaited the arrival point with anxious and excited faces. Kate brushed her lush hair that partly blocked her view to one corner while, a glowing smile rested on her face. It was the beginning of a new life, without Paula, without Adam and without Dan. She was free to face the world without a trace of her past, to reap her off the peace she’d always dreamt of.

  The bell of the intercom woke her from the little dizziness that had consumed her; she had a flight to catch as she had an urgent appointment with a client. She was going to invest in the lives of people, that way she’ll get the entire fulfillment she needed to feel whole again.

  Working with Miss Christine at the Good Samaritan hospital was by far fulfilling than she’d ever imagined. She reminded her so much of Emily especially with the way she cared for the patients. Kate’s office was a blend of green and white, she’d dozed off on the rotating buggy that matched two others facing the table that was stacked with files of different colors. She’d received all her patients for the day, but as the job demanded, she had to wait around to do the routine checkups that came after break. Her lunch pack lay in one secluded corner of the room. She’d barely had anything to eat, while her secretary, a plumb blonde with a slight Spanish accent played a soft knock on the door.

  “Ma’am Katty, there’s a mail for you.” Angela popped a smiling head with a letter cradled in her hands and a bouquet of red tulips. She’d transformed her name as it suited her, though Kate had corrected her on several occasions. Angela was lively and high spirited and she’d been a source of inspiration for Kate. She always went about with a cute smile that never left her face. Angela placed the attractive bunch of flowers on the table at her request and read the smiles that she’d intentionally concealed, seeing the flowers. Red tulips were her favorite, though she didn’t think of anyone who could send her flowers.

  “May I know who the letter’s from?” Kate demanded, fighting the drowsy feeling that had taken control of her whole being.

  “No idea, I think you have an admirer.” She jested in her usual nosy manner. Kate played a half smile to dismiss the obnoxious notion of her having a suitor. She was in no romance mood, thought the tulips actually made her smile.

  Though the tempest rage,

  Though the earths quavers and shakes

  My love for you will be

  As fresh as the lilies of the fields

  I love you Kate

  Butterflies ran through her stomach as she wondered who her mystery man was, he’d surprised her severally with expensive gifts though she’d ignored them and stacked them at home. The words that echoed from the card pierced her heart sharply and this last time she was eager to see whoever had been admiring her in the dark.

  An expensive gold piece had arrived on her birthday with a card that read.

  There will be no greater pleasure

  If my lady will do me the honor of

  Granting my wish

  Irish Park,

  8pm.

  Love

  She’d imagined him to be an enchanting prince that will take her as his princess, as his gifts spelt nobility of a royal class. She counted the hours as they passed by and secretly made an inner prayer. She’d wished it was the end of the road to her singlehood. She’d build a career and living without a man had given her the sort of confidence she’d desired to build for herself.

  Kate cradled at the center of the park, walled by neatly pruned trees while the lighting of the resort brushed memories of her once upon a time lover Adam. Those were the sort of places he enjoyed taking her to. Her black blazer sparkled over a strapless gown that mapped out her figure the more prominently.

  “Maybe it was time to begin a new page” She spoke from within, with peering eyes that searched the surrounding to get a glimpse of what her mystery man was all about.

  The waiter placed a vase containing champagne filled with ice. He served her politely as though he’d been given strict orders to attend to her needs.

  “Hello Katty,” A familiar voice began while she spun to face sight that sent both fear and excitement down her spine. It was Adam, he’d been her secret admirer and she’d fallen in love with her ghost lover. It turned out to be the one man she’d done everything to forget, but now he was back in her life, haunting her like a love demon.

  “Words cannot explain how much I have hurt you.” He began, taking out a red case from his back pocket. She trembled at the sight of the case and seeing the sadness and the desire in his eyes she was afraid she couldn’t resist him. His words tore her heart from her eyes and she was dazed by the level of humility and modesty he’d induced. His Spanish suit blessed his gorgeous personality and for a moment she almost stole a kiss from his tempting lips that surrendered themselves at her mercy.

  She’d moved to Sicily with the hope of starting a new life, but there was no day that came by without memories of him. She’d moaned in slight sobs and cautioned her emotions to forget him, but her heart was cleaved to his by some magical means. The opportunity stood in front of her to decide her fate once more, but she still hurt from the injuries he’d inflicted on her.

  “Adam …what’s this about?” She bleated in a sorrowful smile while he shut her mouth with a finger.

  “Allow me make it up to you.” He drew nearer towards her ears resisting eating her lips.

  “You hurt me a lot Adam” Tiny droplets of tears narrowed down her chin.

  “I know,” Adam replied with a soft stroke over her forehead. “Let’s start anew my love.” He dotted a soft kiss on her forehead and slid the metallic rod on her slender finger.

  Epilogue

  My father had quit politics and my mother had finally come to the realization that my happiness lay with Kate. She’d come to love and respect her and all was far from beautiful.

  Paula and I met on several working functions. She was brand new and she’d abandoned her addiction and was in a promising relationship. I’d invited Jake on several occasions to spend time with my two kids as I’d always considered him as my first son.

  Mark and Kate were the symbol of the beautiful life I’d shared with Kate. Wealth and power had become vanity to my very eyes-my wife, my kids “My world.” was my priority.

  “You are the sweetest thing that has ever happened to me.�
�� Kate told me, holding my gaze to hers. My heart was at peace whenever it was closed to hers, I flapped my watery lashes and we plunged into a deep and passionate kiss.

  “You are the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.” I ate her attractive lips while we watched the glowing sun setting behind the giant mountain, cradled in each other’s arms.

  Five years of togetherness seemed like a few days. She was the woman that completed my world and I could desire her for as many lifetimes as possible.

  Free Bonus Books

  Dyanela

  An Interracial Billionaire Romance

  by

  J. S. Brent

  Chapter 1

  The Island of Dyanela

  He heard a sound. It was low and unusual, like a premonition or a hidden foreboding of things to come. It was as though he had his ear cocked to the railroad tracks and could hear the slow, rumbling sound of an imminent train. It spooked him. But then he realized it was him, his own self, Cortes Ancheta, humming to himself. He was embarrassed by this. He had a life so intricately planned, so hermetically angled he had cornered himself. Where?

  Cortes was in his glass encased office overlooking the Silicon Valley. He was thumbing a pencil’s eraser here and there as though it were the bud of a flower. He was bored. Nothing surprised him anymore. He, invented surprise with his line of tech products that went on IPO recently and gained a massive explosion of profit for his tech-company. He split the eraser in half like opening the bud of a rare, exotic flower. He had felt vulnerable after the IPO. He was hailed the new tech mogul. I, Cortes Ancheta from the hovel of the Latino quarters in Los Angeles. He mocked himself and craned to look at himself in the reflection of the glassy surface overlooking the valley.

  He still felt like a child in a grown man’s suit. He favored suits like a successful ascendant to the throne. He wasn’t the new tech debutant in khaki trousers and a polo shirt. He wanted to look the part he could not feel deep into his soul like marinating a chicken overnight and still tasted disappointingly flavorless in the morning.

  What to do, what to do, he thought to himself. He had nothing to do. He could run the company from his own mansion at Palo Alto. He relished the first intimate taste of success. He walked among the mortals secretly contemptuous of them, like a Greek God imperfect with the flaw of human pride but still a God. He was so young then but he could separate a crowd and walk through a path they made for him. They seemed to bow slightly in deference to his authority, his soaring height, his golden Latino color, his thick, long stemmed neck; a God who looked the part.

  Cortes Ancheta brought up an ailing tech company with sheer Herculean strength. He was a young man from an unknown computer school walking tall among Yale graduates and snatching the coveted position of CEO of a rotting company and made it great. He was as speedy and sleek as an unencumbered red, sports car gunning down a wet road with no signs of stopping.

  They all waited for his flaw. A woman could be his only downfall, they all predicted. But his stocks kept rising in the market. He did not attend parties, only secure, tight celebrations with close colleagues. Popping champagne was the only siren’s call that claimed him, and his mother, Alicia Vda. De Ancheta. Dona Alicia- -

  “Sir, you have a call on line 1.” His black secretary’s low, octavian voice alerted him from behind. “I think you should take the call sir, it’s an emergency.”

  Cortes swiveled his chair to face his secretary. He punched the key on his phone pad.

  “Ancheta.”

  The secretary lingered deliberately and found the CEO of Ancheta Companies look suddenly old, and graven as though the years had finally caught up on him like the whitening wings of his totem black hair.

  Cortes Ancheta’s mother had been kidnapped. Dona Alicia Vda. De Ancheta had been kidnapped in his part of town.

  ***

  Footages showed children, yes, the irony of children crowding in on his mother at a shopping mall. They pushed her to a dark corner where an exit door was located. She was swallowed by the darkness and disappeared.

  The police could not identify the children. They appeared to be stealing her bag and Alicia was fighting them off in a rather awkward way as though a throng of bees threatened to consume her with their bites.

  Cortes avoided to comment on the issue and sent no press release. He fired his PR firm for leaking certain details to the press they deemed among themselves appropriate to be relayed. He kept to himself in his mansion with the thick curtains and windows closed. Nothing was happening and sooner than his speeding cars and meteoric rise, the case was elevated to the FBI, and then the CIA for it had become a high case profile.

  The silence was intense and noisier than a shrieking decibel. If her mother had been in an accident, the sirens of the ambulance would have been more comforting to this. He felt as though he was being compelled, cornered to listen to the power of the silence. He would not dare open the TV but his laptop was on.

  The email came during the early eaves of sunset. Everyone was suddenly inside his large, thickly carpeted home office, the press, police, his colleagues, people he didn’t know. It was a kink they could all enter and the office became a conference room with wires and coffees and the continuous static of radios. People spilled outside of the mansion where TV trailers with reporters milled about and did their business of reporting while a crowd stood by to watch the live tragedy. No one was in control. The CEO of Ancheta Companies had fallen. This was the atmosphere.

  Cortes was once again the small boy comforting his mother when his Papa died of drug overdose in downtown LA. He left everything and locked himself inside his room.

  Deliver. Bring no one. Let no one know and we will let her go- - declared the ransom note in Cortes’s first taste of an act of war against him so intimately played he wanted to scream like a woman giving birth with so much pain.

  ***

  Cortes’s private jet landed him swiftly in Dumaguete City, Philippines. It was the nearest town to Siquijor Island where the psychic lived.

  He could smell the deep, ancient smell of roses. Deep red, crushed roses. The scintillating smell was deep in his skull. No, he wasn’t being superstitious, he had always been superstitious, claiming it better than any religion he encountered.

  Cortes had walked into his garden away from the people suffocating his mansion. There he found his Filipino gardener minding his own goddam business. Sistio, the gardener tipped his Lakers cap ingratiatingly to his master. Cortes nodded to him.

  “The roses are in bloom senor.” He announced.

  “You do well, Sistio.” Cortes replied finally noticing the extraordinary profusion of roses blossoming in his wide garden at the back of the mansion, away from the people. He deeply inhaled the scent and felt crestfallen. He had always felt it was the saddest of smells. Sistio veered away and tended the garden.

  They had given the kidnappers everything, the whole amount they asked for but her mother was still unreturned. There was another ransom note for a a higher amount delivered. Then there was another and another. But there was not even a proof of life, a ring she wore that day or a dreaded finger. He allowed himself to wonder if she were still alive. Mama, he sighed and realized he was among her roses. This was her mama’s rose garden.

  Sistio pulled a long stemmed rose bud and gave it to him. He started mumbling. Sistio was an old man most would consider, inconsequential, except to Cortes. There is an island in the south of the Philippine, it lights up like fire…

  …before night…Cortes rode a boat and saw that it was true. Siquijor looked like a forbidding island to approach.

  He walked away from everything and was now on the boat to Siquijor where Sistio instructed him to find a maiden who rumors said, helped the Constabulary find Chinese businessmen being kidnapped by pirates from south of the Philippines. She must be a mature woman, by now, Sistio explained. When I learned about her, she was still a child being dressed up in white, like a saint.

  Droplets of se
awater rained on Cortes. He was on the prong of the small parao he hired to take him to Siquijor. The mountains of Dumaguete rose behind him but he didn’t look back. He was intent on the island, watching its parameter widening as they approached it.

  You have to be very careful, Sistio went on, the island is very shy. Do not bring any of this…Sistio argued and gestured to the crowd behind Cortes.

  Cortes slipped out of the house that night with a private team specifically instructed to transport him in secret to the Philippines Islands. He came alone, wearing an unintimidating cotton shirt and cargo pants. A tourist. Unshaven. Desperate, with Sistio’s voice still echoing in his mind: you have to catch her at that very moment she glances your way, without looking at you. Or she will speak about the weather, the storm that has passed, the fish they have caught that day. Do you understand?

  He understood nothing of what Sistio said. He only had faith in him and in what, he could not define.

  Finally the island grew before him. There was a white beach, some fishing boats and huts beneath windswept coconut trees. He flung his backpack over his shoulder, thanked the boatmen and walked away from the shore. Night had fallen and the stars looked heavy in the sky. The briny smell of the sea made him feel as though he were intoxicated with wine that made him fluid in all his secret places.