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

by L. Steele

  He pales, then draws himself up, "I didn’t come here to be insulted."

  "Too fucking bad, you just were."

  "You’ll pay for this." He holds up his phone, snaps what is, no doubt, a shot that’s going to be all over the internet.

  "Knock yourself out, tosser." He’s confirmed that it had been the right decision to invite every piece of shit news reporter and key influencer in town.

  I walk toward her as men and women step aside, their gazes tracking my progress. Good. She takes a few steps forward, her gaze fixed on me.

  I thrust out my chest.

  She tips up her chin.

  I look her up and down. She props a palm on her hip, angles her body. She strikes a pose, ensuring I take in every detail of how the fabric clings to the slope of her shoulders, the thrust of her breasts, the tiny waist ensconced in lace. She leans her weight to the side and the dress pulls tightly on her thigh. My cock twitches. I hasten my pace.

  She stays rooted, her chest visibly rising and falling. I near her and the color from her already pale cheeks leeches out.

  "You going to faint?" I curl my lips, "Not had your orange juice or whatever it is you need to stave of the shakes?"

  She firms her jaw, "Your concern is touching." She pretends to flick a tear from her cheek, "Went straight to my heart."

  My lips twitch, "And I wasn't even trying." I come to a halt so close that she has to tilt her head right back to keep her gaze locked with mine. A single strand escapes from the hairdo and floats across her cheek.

  "You’ve made your choice, hmm?" I raise a hand.

  She flinches.

  I twine the hair around my finger, then tuck it back behind her ear.

  She swallows, "It seems that way, doesn’t it?" Her voice is firm, "You do you, Saint."

  She bites down on her lower lip and my gaze drops there.

  "Oh, I plan to do you first, darling wife." I swoop out my arm, wind it around her waist, and haul her to me with such force, she crashes into me—from breasts to waist to hips, she’s plastered to me.

  Her gaze widens and fear trembles off of her.

  "Don’t disappoint me now, my love. This is what you wanted—an open spectacle in front of the world, with every eye on us. A signal to those you work for that you’ve accomplished what you set out to do."

  Her throat moves; she wets her lips and lowers her gaze to my mouth. "Yes…" she whispers. "It’s what I need. I want you to hate me, Saint. Everything I’ve done is so you abhor me—so you forget me when I leave."

  "Where are you going?"

  "Somewhere you won’t be able to find me," her smile twists. A single tear rolls down her cheek.

  "Save the fucking histrionics," I snarl. "I love you, doesn’t mean I am going to let you get away with this."

  She stares, then chuckles, and a giggle spills from her. She begins to laugh.

  "The fuck is wrong with you?"

  She glances past me, pales.

  "What is it?" I frown.

  "Kiss me."

  "What?"

  She throws her arms around my neck, raises her chin, presses her lips to mine.

  "Don’t—"

  She bites on my lips, digs her fingertips into my hair and drags them across my scalp. My groin hardens and my vision tunnels. A groan tears out of me. Fucking fuck, I can’t refuse her, I can’t resist her. Fuck her for rendering me so helpless.

  I drag her up to tiptoe, deepen the kiss.

  She sucks on my tongue, kisses me back with a fervor that borders on desperation. The hair on my nape rises. My heart twists in my chest.

  This entire sequence of events, starting with her walking into that office and asking me for help… Was any of it real? A hollow sensation roils in my stomach. A bead of sweat slides down my back. I tear my mouth from hers. "The fuck is happening?"

  She swallows, peers into my eyes.

  "Tell me, Gigi, I can help you." I scan her anguished features.

  "I can’t let you," she whispers.

  "No," my pulse begins to race, "don’t do this."

  She cups my cheek. "Promise me, you’ll put this behind you, and move on."

  "The fuck you talking about, woman. If you think I am going to let you put yourself in danger, you’ve got another think coming. I won’t allow it, Gigi, I—"

  "You ready to leave, Victoria?" a new voice booms.

  My heart slams into my chest. I swing around to face a familiar face.

  "You?" I snarl, "The fuck you doing here?"

  41

  Victoria

  * * *

  "Hello, Antonio."

  He comes forward, arm outstretched.

  Beside me, Saint stiffens, "Get the fuck away from her."

  "Afraid it doesn’t work quite that way, old sport." Antonio turns to me, "You going to tell your new husband, or should I?"

  I tip up my chin, "I need a second."

  "You’ve run out of time." Antonio smiles, white teeth flashing against tanned skin. He prowls toward me.

  I shudder, take a step back. Saint’s warmth envelopes me; he wraps an arm around my waist. "You don’t have to do this," he whispers in my ear.

  I do. I don’t have a choice. If I don’t do as he says, he’ll kill the friend who’s meant more to me than any family. No, I have to do this, with no help from anyone else.

  I yank at Saint’s arm. His muscles flex, "I am not letting you go."

  "I was never yours to begin with."

  "The fuck?" he explodes.

  I elbow him in the waist. He huffs and his grip loosens enough for me to pull away. I turn on him, "I’m leaving you."

  "What?" He frowns, scans my features then chuckles, "You’re getting back at me for my asshole attitude, huh?" He lowers his voice, "You know that’s because I can’t help myself. It’s in my blood, I'm a born wanker." He raises his shoulders, "but for you, Gigi... For you, I’d change."

  I swallow, then shake my head. "You...won’t." I don’t want you to. "Your uncompromising meanness is too much a part of you. Besides…this entire arrangement between us was a farce."

  "Not for me." He takes a step forward, "It may have started off that way, but I developed feelings for you."

  "Like I care?"

  "Of course, you do," he growls. "You love me, Gigi."

  "No," I back away from him.

  "Yes. You do. You’re too frightened to admit it." He glares past me. "What does he have on you?"

  "Nothing." I retreat another step.

  Antonio’s heat assails me. My skin crawls. My fingers jerk. Don’t shrink back; don’t show how afraid you are right now. His massive hand descends on my shoulder. The blood drains from my face.

  "Don’t fucking touch her," Saint’s feet don’t seem to touch the ground as he crosses the distance between us.

  "Don’t come closer," I swallow.

  "Stop right there," Antonio snaps.

  Saint’s jaw tics. A vein throbs at his temple. He folds his fingers into fists, and his entire body tenses.

  A woman screams. People scramble back.

  I glance sideways and freeze. Antonio holds a gun, its barrel trained on Saint. My heart jackknifes in my chest. "You promised," I whisper. "You said you wouldn’t hurt him. You promised that if I gave you what you needed, you’d release my friend."

  "Maybe I lied," Antonio smiles, his thin upper lip a slash across his face, "maybe I didn’t. It’s up to you how this plays out."

  I swallow.

  "Tell him to stand back."

  "Stop hiding behind her, you coward," Saint growls. "Let her go and fight me."

  Shit, shit, shit. The hell is he doing? "Shut up, Saint," I huff.

  He glares at me, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

  "Don’t tell me what to do," he pulls back his shoulders.

  "This once, will you listen to me?" I whisper-shout.

  "She has a point," Weston walks forward.

  Antonio points the gun at him, but he raises his hands, "Easy t
here."

  Antonio turns back to Saint. "For someone who was kidnapped and tortured, you turned out well."

  "Tortured?" I blink.

  Saint’s jaw hardens, "Let her go, and you and I can talk this out."

  "Oh?"

  Saint nods. "What do you want? Money? Fame?" He glances around at the assembled paparazzi. "Though why you’d want every single camera in the country on your back—"

  "Not mine. Yours."

  "What?"

  Antonio turns to me, "Hand it over."

  "What’s he talking about?" Saint growls.

  I nudge my fingers into my purse, pull out the flash drive.

  "I believe this is what you are looking for," I hold it out to him.

  He turns the gun on me. "Don't attempt anything funny."

  There’s an indrawn breath from Saint. Tension screams off of him. Does he recognize it? Does he realize it’s the USB from his desk? Will he ever forgive me?

  "No, tricks." I raise the device, "Take it. Everything you want is on that."

  He holds out his palm and I drop the device onto it. He pockets it, then grabs me and holds the gun to my temple. Sweat beads my upper lip.

  My heart races so fast, I am sure it’s going to break out of my ribcage. My knees buckle and the world tilts around me. Antonio tightens his hold on my waist, yanking me closer. I flinch, hunch my shoulders.

  "Let go of my wife," Saint growls.

  "Wife?" Antonio laughs, "Is that what you call this relationship?"

  Saint’s shoulders bunch, "Shut the fuck up."

  "Have you told her what they did to you when you were kidnapped?"

  I half angle my body, glance from Saint to Antonio. "Of course, I know about the incident," I force my voice to stay steady.

  "Oh?" Antonio begins to inch back. "Has he told you what they did to him in that cell? How they tortured him and his friends? How they systematically broke him?"

  Saint growls low in his throat. The fine hair on the nape of my neck rise. "Of course, he did. We…we have no secrets."

  Shit, what am I saying? What does it matter that Antonio is trying to push Saint until he loses control? Why can I not allow that? I straighten my shoulders. I need to deflect Antonio’ attention for as long as I can.

  "You told him your secrets, Victoria?"

  I pale. "I… Have none."

  Antonio grins, "You’ll have to do better than that." He jerks his chin toward Saint, "Even your husband doesn’t believe you."

  Don’t look, don’t. I swing my head in Saint’ direction. He’s glaring at me, his features contorted. His blue eyes blaze with… Anger? Hate?

  My pulse rate kicks up. Shit, why does his opinion of me matter? "I never withheld anything from you." I glance away, "Not out of choice, at least."

  "I believe you."

  I whip my gaze to his face, "You do?"

  "Of course. All of your actions have a reason."

  "Oh!" My heart stutters and warmth coils in my chest. "You believe me?"

  "Always." Saint’s lips twist, "Even your lies tell me a story."

  "Saint, I—" I step forward.

  Antonio pulls me back.

  I cry out.

  Saint jumps forward.

  "Stop right there," Antonio aims his pistol at my husband.

  "I… I’m fine," I choke out. "Don’t come close."

  Saint’s throat moves as he swallows. "Get away from her," he growls.

  “Get back.” Antonio, waves his gun and the crowd scrambles away. "The rest of you too."

  I survey the room and find Sinclair—with Summer behind him—Weston, Damian and Edward standing in a semicircle.

  Amelie and the girls are clustered in a corner away from the action.

  Antonio jerks his chin, "I won’t warn you again.

  "Get back, you guys," Saint growls.

  Weston hesitates. Damian and Edward stay unmoving. Sinclair balls his fists at his sides.

  "She’s my wife," Saint’s shoulders bunch, "I take the risks."

  "Fuck that," Weston scowls. "We have each other’s backs."

  "So what if we don’t always like each other," Sinclair mutters.

  "Except Baron." Damian glowers. "He prefers to keep his shit separate."

  "Fucking Baron," Edward agrees.

  Antonio glances between them, "You guys are insane."

  "Am I late…?" Arpad walks in with a blonde on his arm. She screams.

  There’s a soft pop. I blink at the gun in Saint’s hand. Where the hell had he kept it hidden?

  Antonio staggers. "Fuck," he swears aloud, takes another step back.

  "Let her go," Saint growls.

  Antonio retreats toward the door, keeping me between him and Saint.

  "Ask your husband to put down his weapon, or you’re going to be widowed twice over," Antonio growls.

  "No, don’t hurt him." My pulse rate goes through the roof. "Saint," I swallow, "do as he says. Please."

  Saint doesn’t move. His gaze is fixed on my face. His features are hard, his eyes glaring pools of blue. Is he angry at me?

  Why is he angry at me?

  Antonio reaches the door. "Say goodbye."

  "No," I snarl, helplessness filling me. "You can’t do this. I did everything you asked me to do."

  "Too bad I never keep my word." Antonio raises his gun toward me. Flashes light up around me, then everything goes dark.

  42

  Saint

  * * *

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck." I pace the floor in the waiting room in the hospital. "I am her husband. I should be in there with her."

  Damian watches me from the chair he’s sprawled in. "You did a good enough job convincing the doctor in charge to allow Weston to be present."

  "He’s a doctor, isn’t he?"

  "A surgeon… A heart surgeon, no less." Arpad straightens from the window, where’d he’d taken up position since we’d arrived at the hospital.

  "So? He’s the only medical professional I’ll trust her with."

  "Saint, you’re being unreasonable." Damian frowns, "This is the best hospital in the city, and the doctor you have attending is a specialist."

  "Fuck that. Can’t trust anyone, and you know that."

  Damian draws in a breath, "Can’t say I disagree with you, but has it occurred to you that you’re not helping things with your crazy, possessive streak.

  I turn on him. "Wait until you fall in love and it’s your wife in there fighting for her life—"

  He raises a hand, "Shit's not for me. You and Sinner, collapsing one after the other… Nah, seeing what you two went through is more than enough to put me off any kind of relationship, let alone marriage."

  "Famous last words," Sinner walks in, his arm around Summer.

  Summer breaks away and stops in front of me. "How is she?"

  I drag my fingers through my hair, try to speak but the words stick in my throat. I turn and begin to pace again.

  Damian replies, "She’s in surgery; Weston is in with her."

  "The doctor allowed him in?" Sinclair frowns.

  "Romeo here didn’t give him a choice," Damian mutters.

  "He nearly decked the paramedic who asked him to release her into their care," Arpad grimaces.

  "Asshole dared to ask me to stand back from her," I growl.

  "Only because they needed to check her vitals. You understand that, don’t you?" Damian straightens. "Honestly, you needed to take a chill pill, and let the professionals get on with their work. You were only getting in their way."

  I take a step toward him. Arpad and Sinclair both step in front of me.

  Edward ignores the proceedings, his face buried in a book, in the chair he’s occupied since we’d arrived here.

  "Hold on," Sinclair reaches for me.

  I sidestep him, "Don’t fucking touch me, man."

  "Sure," Sinclair rocks back on his heels, "It’s understandable you’re feeling on edge and all. I get it."

  "Oh, do you now?" I smirk. "J
ust because you’re married and all that shit, you think you understand how it feels to have the woman you wronged take a fucking bullet for you?"

  "Jesus, Saint, you’re living up to your name."

  "The fuck you mean?"

  "You’re taking the sins of the entire world on yourself. See what I did there?" Sin raises an eyebrow and smirks.

  "You douche, this is not the time to indulge in fucking word play."

  "Says the man who has a riddle to suit every occasion," Arpad mutters.

  "Not this one." I dig my fingers through my hair, tug on the strands. "My mind’s a fucking blank." Also, not true. All I can think of is her pale face, her limp figure crumpling to the floor. I’d raced toward her and caught her before she had hurt herself further, thank fuck. I’d carried her out and to the ambulance, I’d refused to let go of her hand on the ride here.

  I flex my fingers. Blood stains my palm; I stare at it. My heart begins to race. The scars on my soles itch. Whack-whack-whack. I flinch.

  "Answer this, boy, and you go free."

  It’s a trick, always a trick. He asks me questions to which I never have the answers. This is how he plays with me. Traps me in my mind, trying to crack the puzzles. I’ve never gotten an answer right so far. Goddamn him. It’s a sure way to mess with my head. He’ll never let me go free, not even if I get it right. Damn him, he’s screwing with me. If I get out of here alive, I’ll never be caught unaware.

  "Saint."

  I’ll read up until I know the answer to every fucking question ever. No one will ever ask me a riddle again. I’ll be the one in control. Always.

  "Saint!"

  There’s a touch on my shoulder, I pivot around, fists raised in front.

  "Easy," Sinner steps back, putting distance between us.

  Damian and Arpad freeze.

  Edward slaps his book shut, "The answer’s a minute at a time."

  "What?" I frown.

  He places his book on the seat next to him, then leans forward, "The answer to the question that’s on your mind."

  "You a mind reader now, along with being a priest?" I glower.

  "If the occasion demands." Edward places his elbows on his knees, "You’re wondering how you’re going to get through the time she’s in there?"

  "Fuck off."