The Billionaire's Secret: Enemies to Lovers Fake Marriage Romance (Big Bad Billionaires Book 2)

by L. Steele

  Weston growls, takes a step forward, when a whistle pierces the air.

  I jerk my head around. "Edward?"

  The Father crosses the floor to the ring, then jumps up onto the platform. "Getting a little tired of refereeing the brawls between you boys." He frowns. "What are you guys, ten?"

  "Hold on." I crack my neck, "Not my fault the wanker here decided to challenge me."

  "Bet you were the one to push him into throwing the first hit, when you know that, as a surgeon, he holds back from getting involved in fights of any kind," Edward retorts.

  "Yeah," I blow out a breath.

  "And Weston, you should know better than indulging this spoilt brat here."

  "Spoilt brat…?" I scowl. "Hold on there."

  Edward glares at me and I firm my lips.

  Of the Seven of us, Edward is the one who’d gone all the way to the dark side…then found light… Hell, if he turns any more pious, I’ll hear angels singing whenever he walks in, which isn’t to say I don’t see the halo around his head right now. My point being... Oh, yeah, when the Father speaks, all of us Seven, and many of our friends and associates, listen.

  "Sorry," I hold up a hand.

  "Not me you should be apologizing to."

  "Right." I turn to Weston, "Apologies and all that, no offense meant."

  Weston drags his fingers through his hair, "None taken, you piece of shit."

  "Twat," I smirk.

  "Jerkhole," he grins.

  "Get a room, you two," Arpad spreads his arms along the ropes.

  "Nah," Weston lowers his chin, "What would Victoria say to that?"

  "None of your business," I turn on him.

  "Shit, you were right, Arpad." He shakes his head, "The boy's in love."

  "I’m not, you twerps." I crack my neck, "I am going to say this only once, so you all had better listen up.

  "Of course, it had to happen to Saint next," Sinclair teases.

  I glower at him.

  He raises his hands, "Go on, Saint, what’s your plan then?"

  I scan the faces of the others. My friends…as close as I’ll get to having brothers…not that there’s any blood connection between us… Well, if you don’t count the blood that was spilt during the time we’d been kidnapped and held together. The longest days of my life… And when you go through an experience like that together… Well, it changes you. It unites you in ways you don’t need to always elaborate with words.

  It is for my friends—the dipshits I often love to hate—and also for myself, that I need to go through with the fake wedding.

  Also, I need an excuse to keep the woman, who has unearthed feelings I’d thought dead since the incident, near me.

  "My plan’s simple. Keep her close, and the Mafia will follow."

  Weston tilts his head, "You don’t need to marry her for that."

  "It’s simpler that way.”

  "How?"

  "It’s foolproof in the short term. Victoria, I happen to find out, is old-fashioned enough that she'll respect the wedding vows."

  "That’s why she’d marry you so quickly after burying her first husband?"

  I growl.

  Weston doesn’t back down, "Go on, tell us your reasoning, Saint Killian."

  "Don’t use that bloody name"

  "It is your middle name, isn’t it?"

  "Among others."

  "Well, then?"

  "I should be able to coerce her into tying the knot sooner than not."

  "Meanwhile, you get information about the Mafia from her?"

  "Exactly," I prop my hands on my hips.

  Weston smirks, "And during this time, of course, you make full use of your marital privileges?"

  "Hey," I frown, "don’t go there."

  Weston blinks, "Wow, possessive about her too."

  "What’s it to you?" I lower my chin.

  He turns to Sinclair, "Sound familiar to you?"

  Sinclair chuckles, "All too much, and you know the funniest part of this?"

  "No, tell me," Weston jokes.

  "He has no idea that he’s already well and truly fucked."

  "Hook, line and sinker," Weston rubs his hands together.

  "Hey, I’m here, you wankers," I growl.

  "Barely," Arpad snickers. "Your mind has been elsewhere all this time."

  "Yeah, I’ve been focused on how to take down the bastards who fucked up our lives."

  "Is that what this is about? This elaborate plan of yours to keep her close?" Weston asks.

  "What else can it be?" I glower.

  "Clearly, you can’t see what’s right there in front of you." He scratches his jaw.

  "Which is—?"

  "Saint?" Sinner holds up my phone. "Call for you." He reaches over the ropes, "It’s Meredith. She says it’s urgent."

  Shit! My heart begins to race. It can’t be about her, can it? I did ask Meredith to check in on her after I’d left her in Selfridges. She has to be fine. Has to be.

  I close the distance between us, then grab the phone from him.

  "Meredith, is she okay?"

  Anger twists my guts as I listen to her reply.

  "I’m coming."

  18

  Victoria

  * * *

  "What do you want?" I tuck my elbows into my sides. Don’t lose it, not now. You’re in a public place, there’s nothing that he can do to you. You’re safe. Safe? Ha, when was the last time I’d gone to bed without waking up in the throes of a nightmare? When had I last walked down a street without looking nervously over my shoulder? Just because I am in the middle of a hotel, next to a crowded room packed with people, doesn’t mean I am safe from the man who'd kidnapped Nina. I will not let him scare me – for Nina's sake.

  I tip up my chin, hold his gaze. "Well?" I ask.

  "You're taking too long." Antonio stares at me with those dark eyes, so lifeless.

  The first and only time I'd met him was when he'd informed me about Nina's situation. It had been the singular, most scary event of my life. I'd stared into the face of darkness and realized how lucky I was not to be in his grasp. Unlike Nina. Shit. "Is she okay?"

  His forehead crinkles. Those dark eyes seem to reflect some kind of inner turmoil. Before I can process what I think I’ve seen, he schools his features into a mask. "Do you have what I need?"

  A chill runs down my back. "I'm trying my best," I reply.

  "It's not good enough."

  "He's a billionaire." I clench my fists at my side. "Are you aware how many women seek him out? I can't throw myself at him; that would be counterproductive—"

  "You're playing too hard to get." He frowns.

  "I'm being true to character."

  "We are running out of time." His jaw hardens. "You’ve lost a month already."

  "I… I had no choice. Adam’s death—"

  "Was unfortunate." He lowers his eyebrows. "I should have known better than to entrust such an important mission to him. He was weak. It’s not a surprise that his heart gave out, at the most inopportune time."

  "How can you talk badly about someone who is dead?"

  He widens his stance. "If you don’t deliver what I need, it will be Nina's turn."

  "Please,” I beg him, “don't hurt her."

  His eyes shift away from mine. Then, he straightens his shoulders, "Two weeks. I'll give you two more weeks to get me the information."

  "You can’t be serious," I cry out. "I’m not a miracle worker, I need at least another month to win his trust, enough for him to give me access to his confidential information, I—"

  "Three." He widens his stance. "Three weeks. Not a second more."

  "That's very little time." I wring my fingers.

  "Time you put your body to good use, hmm?"

  The color fades from my cheeks.

  He scrutinizes my features, "You didn’t expect to get away from this without fucking him, now did you?"

  I swallow. "No…but…"

  "What is it? Tell me quickly
." He looks at the expensive watch on his wrist. "I’m running out of time, Victoria."

  "I… I…" I am not stupid. Of course, I knew I’d have to go to bed with Saint… But that was before… I’d realized how much he affects me. Perhaps a part of me had hoped that I’d somehow manage to get away without being hurt. Who am I kidding? I had taken on this role knowing I’m likely to lose everything.

  "It’s fine," I pull myself up to my full height, "I’ll find a way to do it."

  He jerks his chin, "Good."

  "And Nina?"

  I can’t interpret the look comes into his eyes. "You don't need to worry about her." He rolls his shoulders. "Stay focused on your task. The faster you get the USB from him, the sooner you can go free."

  He looks past me, "In fact, I’ll help you along in this charade."

  His arm snakes out and he grips my shoulder.

  "What… What are you doing?"

  The hair on the nape of my neck prickles and an electric current runs up my spine. Oh! God, no. It can’t be. Saint's here; he's watching. "Let me go."

  Antonio yanks me to him with such force that I stumble into him. He lowers his head and his breath mingles with mine.

  The next moment he’s yanked away from me. Antonio’s body arches through the air. He hits the ground with a thud.

  I open my mouth to scream, then clap a hand over it. I take a step forward.

  "Leave, Victoria," Saint’s hard voice whips through my mind.

  "But..."

  He jerks his head around, and his blue eyes lighten until they resemble chips of ice. Did he overhear any of that conversation? No, he couldn’t have. I have to hope for that, at least. So why is he staring at me as if he wants to wrap his fingers around my neck and choke me…as he fucks me? As he buries himself inside of me, covers my body with his, merges his scent with mine, his lips over mine, those hard pecs cutting into the soft curves of my breasts as he fucks me, takes me, paints his essence on me and wipes out everything I have seen and heard and experienced—"Victoria."

  I flinch.

  "Go," he jerks his chin.

  My gaze darts around him to Antonio, who jumps up to his feet.

  Saint turns around, deflects a blow from Antonio, who steps back, knees slightly bent, fists balled. A trickle of blood drips from his nose.

  "Not bad for a spoilt playboy," he snickers.

  Saint steps forward, until his chest slams into Antonio’ "If I see you anywhere near her again… I’ll—"

  "You’ll?"

  "I’ll beat the fuck out of you."

  Antonio chuckles. "I’ll have to take you up on your challenge one of these days, knowing fully well that you won’t be able to win."

  Saint snarls. He raises his arm. I jump forward and grab his shoulder, "Let him go," I pant. "He’s baiting you. Can’t you see that?"

  Saint shrugs off my hold, "I gave you a simple command. If you don’t obey it—"

  "What are you going to do?"

  His jaw tics, a nerve throbs at his temple, and his entire body goes rigid. Anger thrums off of him, mixed with…an intensity that had not been there before. If I’d thought Saint had been upset earlier…that was nothing… Nothing compared to how every muscle in his body is wound up, tightened, coiled into a mass of lethal fury that could plough down anything that gets in his way. He could kill Antonio; I have no doubt about it. There is no way I am going to let him do it. I won’t let him get into trouble because of me… And yet, you are going to sell him out. I don’t have a choice about that. I have too much at stake. But I could buy him a little more time…a few more days of freedom. For myself...for him.

  "Tell me what you’ll do to me if I don’t follow your orders, Saint."

  His gaze flicks to me, "I’ll make you regret this."

  "Without giving me a chance to say ’yes’?"

  "What did you say?"

  "I said ’yes.’"

  Saint frowns.

  Antonio steps back, "I’m sorry."

  Saint turns to him, as if I hadn’t accepted his proposal. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I am alluding to? Perhaps he already regrets asking me to marry him? Either way, this lack of surprise or any kind of response from him is…strange, to say the least.

  "Didn’t realize the lady was taken," Antonio raises his hands. "I never meant to trespass on what’s yours."

  The two men exchange a glance.

  Saint wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. The heat of his body slams into me, his big frame dwarfing me. I melt into him, and for a second pretend that I am his. That he belongs to me, that I am a woman who agreed to marry a man who in a few short days had stripped back the layers I’ve shown to the world. Who’d known how to arouse me with a look, a touch, a spanking across my backside. My nerve endings crackle and my scalp tingles. I swallow, force myself to stay where I am.

  "No hard feelings, ol'chap?" Antonio holds out his hand.

  Saint sets his jaw, "Leave before I have you thrown out."

  Antonio chuckles. "It won’t come to that." He glances down at me, and Saint’s hold tightens, until I can barely breathe.

  "Good luck, my dear, though by the looks of it, it will be your man who’ll be needing it."

  He brushes past us.

  Saint stiffens. I peer up at him to find the pulse racing at the hollow of his neck. I lift my fingers to touch the skin, and he releases me. My knees threaten to give way. I put out a hand and brace myself against him.

  "Who was he?" Saint asks.

  "No one." I retract my arm, press my elbows into my side. "He was no one."

  "He didn’t seem like nobody. You guys seemed to be engaged in intimate conversation when I arrived."

  "How did you find us?" I ask.

  "Meredith called me."

  "Right," I shuffle my feet. "Did you hear what I said earlier?"

  He frowns.

  "About my saying 'yes,' I mean."

  "Your agreeing to marry me?"

  I nod.

  "I didn’t expect otherwise."

  I glower, "Very sure of yourself."

  "Always." He widens his stance. "Unlike you."

  "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  "You can’t lie to save yourself… Tory."

  "Don’t call me that. I told you I don’t like it."

  "So I can’t, but he can?"

  The blood rushes from my face. "How…how much did you hear?"

  "Enough."

  "It…it’s not what it seems, Saint."

  He chuckles, "You can do better than that."

  "No, really," I grip his arm.

  He shakes it off, "Don’t come near me."

  My heart begins to thud and sweat beads my palms. This is not good. I can’t afford to have Saint angry with me. Can’t have him put distance between us—not when I am so close to getting everything I want.

  "I’ll do it, Saint."

  He regards me from under those thick eyelashes.

  "I’ll do anything you want."

  "What does that mean, exactly?"

  "I’ll marry you. I’ll obey you. I’ll give you anything you need from me."

  He drums his fingers on his chest, "You’ll agree to everything I ask?"

  I nod.

  He walks a slow circle around me. I stare ahead. Allow him to take his measure of my body, my curves, welcome his heated gaze that flows over my waist, down the cleft between my arsecheeks, around my thighs to the front, where he pauses, his gaze fixed on the triangle between my legs.

  "You’ll strip for me?"

  "Of course."

  "Let me slap your pussy?" His voice lowers to a hush.

  I shudder. Squeeze my thighs together.

  "Answer me."

  "Yes," I snap out.

  He tilts his head to the left, then the right.

  "I’ll take your arse, of course," he assures me.

  My sex clenches and my heart begins to race.

  "Of course," I tip up my chin.

  His lips cur
l. "Wasn’t asking you for your permission."

  I draw in a sharp breath.

  "In fact, I won’t be giving you much of a heads-up on anything I have in mind. Suffice to say, Gigi, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to remember your name, let alone how you deceived me."

  "D…deceived you?"

  He doesn’t know. No way. He can’t know the true reason for my having approached him in the first place. "Wh…what do you mean?" I whisper.

  He jerks his chin to the side, "Why him… Your former lover, who you invited here to meet you publicly, and all because you wanted to make me jealous, hmm?"

  I blink. Is that what he thinks this is? That I am cheating on him? If only it were that simple. I chuckle.

  "What’s so funny?"

  “N…nothing.” A giggle bubbles up, I try to swallow it, choke. I press my lips together, can’t stop the cough that breaks free. "Excuse me." I bring my hands up to cover my mouth, end up snorting. Tears roll down my cheeks. I sway. Shit, am I having some kind of a nervous breakdown? Is this a bout of hysteria? Didn’t Freud cure hysteria by orgasms? Is that what I need? I wheeze, draw in a breath, then double over, my shoulders shaking.

  "Victoria, what the fuck?"

  Saint’s boots appear in my line of sight—those same cowboy boots he’s been wearing since the day I met him. For someone who’s a gazillionaire, his taste in footwear is definitely eccentric.

  I resist the urge to shuffle my feet, to squeeze my thighs together. It is a test, all a test. It won’t be as bad as he’s implying it’s going to be. It can’t be. He’s just trying to intimidate me. I can take anything Saint throws at me and rise above it. I can.

  "I…I’m sorry," I gasp, then straighten and drag the back of my hand across my face. "It’s just you… I…"Another bout of giggles bubbles up. I hunch my shoulders, try to tamp down on the laughter. More tears spill down my cheeks. "Saint… I…" The words catch in my throat. I try to get them out, but end up snorting again. What the hell is wrong with me? I am making a bloody spectacle of myself in front of this man who I am supposed to seduce. I am supposed to take on an unapproachable persona; as close to my Posh Spice alter ego as possible. Instead, I am having a complete breakdown, Kardashian style.

  I laugh so hard that my knees sway. Saint grabs my shoulders, steadies me.

  "Look at me."