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

by L. Steele

  Edward winces, "I’ll let that pass, this time." He raises his hand. "Your turn to ask a riddle."

  I glare at him, "Fuck that."

  "Fine, I’ll go then." He smiles, "A prison you feel safe in, yet never quite happy. Whenever you try to leave, it only grows bigger."

  He glances around the space, "Anyone get it?"

  "Comfort Zone?" Arpad ventures.

  Edward nods, "Very good."

  "Here’s another." He taps his fingers together, "If you break me, I do not stop working; if you touch me, I may be snared; if you lose me, nothing will matter. What am I?"

  "Your heart?" Damian asks, then stares at Edward, "Shit, there’s a parable hidden somewhere in that, isn’t there?"

  "Of course, there is," I growl. "Edward here, is a cheeky bugger. He leverages his status as a priest to get away with sin."

  Edward loses some of his color. He straightens, then shakes his finger, "Not gonna distract me there, Saint."

  I snarl.

  His grin widens. He lowers his hands, "The more you carry it with you, the heavier a burden it becomes. What is it?"

  Silence.

  He scans the faces of the group assembled, "No one?"

  "Go on, Father, tell us," Arpad drums his fingers on his chest.

  "A guilty conscience." Edward's lips kick up in a smile.

  "Enough," I snarl. "Spit out whatever it is you are trying to say."

  "Do you have one?" Edward asks me.

  "Mine’s bigger than yours, Father."

  "Not getting into that argument with you." Edward’s grin widens, "I mean, do you have a guilty conscience?"

  I run a finger under my collar. "Of course, not."

  "You could have fooled me," Edward’s eyes twinkle.

  "Okay… So I owe her an apology." Fucking more than an apology, actually. "I owe her my life." I rake my fingers through my hair. "I was careless; I panicked when that fucker restrained her. He touched her and I couldn’t do anything about it." I crack my neck from side to side, "I won’t let that bastard live."

  "He let her live." Weston enters the room, wearing his surgical garb.

  "What?" I turn around, "What do you mean? How is she…?"

  He watches me with a considering gaze.

  My throat closes. "Is she?" my voice cracks. Jesus, fuck. I curl my fingers into fists, "Tell me Weston, or so help me I’ll—"

  "He could have shot her in the chest or in the head, but he didn’t." Weston rubs the back of his neck."

  "He shot her," I growl. "She was bleeding."

  "It was a flesh wound."

  I blink.

  "What?" Damian straightens.

  Edward rises to his feet.

  Arpad, Sinclair and Summer move in closer.

  "So… She’s fine…?"

  "The doc stitched her up, but she’s okay."

  "Right." The knot in my chest eases. I head for the entrance when a nurse enters. "The patient is asking for—"

  "Me," I step forward, "I’m her husband."

  She glances past me, "Dr Weston, she wants to see you."

  "There’s a mistake." I frown, "She must have asked for me. Saint? She’s my wife."

  The nurse’s features taken on an expression of pity. I stiffen. I hate that look, have seen enough of it.

  "Let me through," I growl.

  I brush past her and she touches my arm, "I’m sorry, but she doesn’t want to see you."

  43

  Victoria

  * * *

  I dig my fingers into the hospital bed. My shoulder throbs. The pain from the gunshot wound matches the throbbing sensation in my chest. At least they pulse in synchrony. That has to count for something, huh? A giggle bubbles up my throat.

  Hell, don't lose your shit now. Deep breath, stay calm. You’ve come this far; you can see it through to the end.

  I shut my eyes and see Saint’s face—his concern, the way he’d seemed to appear from out of nowhere and catch me as I fell. The last thing I remember is the fear in his eyes, the paleness of his beautiful features, the vein throbbing at his temple. Then his arms had closed around me, he’d cradled me to his chest, and I had felt safe… Safe, despite the fact that I’d been shot.

  I’d known then that he’d do anything to protect me. He really did mean what he’d said. He cared for me… As for love? Perhaps he does love me, but will he accept this child...? Will he want to participate in bringing up this child, when he'd told me in no uncertain terms that he doesn't want children.

  Weston walks into the hospital room, "You okay?"

  I nod, try to swallow, but my throat is dry. I glance toward the side table. He walks to it, pours out some water and hands me a glass. I accept it and take a few sips.

  "He wants to see you."

  My fingers tremble. The glass tips and water splashes onto my hospital gown.

  My heart hammers in my chest. "I don’t… I can’t…"

  He leans forward, rescues the glass and places it back on the table.

  "Does he know?" Weston pulls up a chair and drops into it.

  "No," I twist my fingers together. "Did you tell him?"

  He shakes his head, "But Saint has a right to know."

  I tip up my chin, "That’s for me to decide. He won’t want it."

  "Whatever is between the two of you, that’s your business." He leans forward, "But I am his friend, and I owe it to him to let him know."

  "I'm his wife." I set my jaw, "It's my decision when I decide to share this with him."

  "So you will tell him?" He frowns.

  I twist my fingers together, "When it's the right time."

  His jaw tics, "You want this child?"

  I nod, "More than anything else in the world."

  "How long have you known?"

  "I... I guessed...when my period didn't arrive on time." I raise my shoulders. "But I put it down to the stress of the last few weeks."

  "Did you plan this?" He frowns.

  "No," I swallow.

  He sets his jaw.

  "Really." I hasten to add, "I understood how precarious my situation with Saint was... I even started taking the pill. No way, would I have been this irresponsible."

  Yet here I am, pregnant.

  Weston raises an eyebrow. “When you say you ‘even started taking the pill,’ do you mean you just started when you and Saint got together?

  I nod.

  He shakes his head, “Victoria, it can take up to seven days for birth control to become effective.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “The doctor must have told you...”

  “Oh, my god,” I whisper, “I must not have heard her.”

  Had I planned this subconsciously? I've always wanted a child of my own... No, I wanted Saint's child. I admit it, but I didn't consciously plan for it to turn out like this. I hunch my shoulders.

  "I... I wouldn't hurt Saint." I swallow, "Not on purpose."

  He changes position, surveys me for another beat. "I believe you," he says, then places the tips of his fingers together. "As your doctor and your friend, I’d advise that you allow him to share the load. This is when you need him the most."

  "I don’t need anyone."

  He scowls ,"Victoria."

  "Swear it," I sit up and hold out my hand, "Swear you will not tell him yet, that you'll give me the chance to break the news to him."

  "Fuck." He jumps up. "This is why I steer clear of all entanglements. It’s a bloody minefield. I don’t want to get dragged into this."

  "Promise me, " I plead.

  "I can't not tell him. However," he turns to me, "I'll delay it on one condition."

  "Of course," I huff. "You Seven know how to haggle. Everything is a negotiation for you guys."

  "Maybe," he raises his shoulders, "if it gets me what I want..."

  "What?" I meet his gaze, "What do you want from me?"

  "Meet him, once."

  I shake my head, "No, no, that’s not happening."

  Ther
e’s a commotion at the door, then Saint stalks in.

  "Don’t think he’s leaving you a choice." Weston’s face softens, "Let him help you, Victoria."

  "Keep your promise," I implore him. "That’s all I want."

  Saint draws abreast with Weston, "What are the two of you talking about?"

  "The Doctor was just leaving," I look pointedly at Weston.

  He turns to go.

  "You should join him," I turn my head to the side, study the view from the window—a road, a building across the street. Rain patters down the window pane. Bleak. Miserable. Just like my life is going to be without him. Shit. Stop it. This is the right thing to do...for him…for me…for the child I’m carrying. Saint isn't ready to have children and I'd never force that on him.

  His father had called him an intrusion... A mistake. And mine? Well, mine had checked out, leaving us to cope on our own. The track record for fathers being present and engaged in both of our lives is not reassuring, to say the least. I bite the inside of my cheek. I won't let my child go through the same experience. It would be better for my child to never know a father, than to be rejected by one. If that means giving up the man who's come to mean so much to me, then so be it.

  "Gigi."

  I bite my lips. "Don’t call me that, please."

  He hesitates, then lowers himself into the chair. "How are you?" he asks.

  "I’ll be better once you’re gone."

  He makes a low noise in his throat, "If anything had happened to you—"

  "I’m fine."

  "He shot you."

  "Antonio didn't intend to hurt me."

  "Except he did," his voice cracks.

  I turn to face him, and flinch. His hair is mussed, his face unshaven. Redness rims his eyes... And his gaze. Oh my God! His blue gaze burns into me with an intensity that makes my heart lurch. "Saint," I say his name before I can stop myself.

  "I have my guys on him. He’s revealed himself and I am not letting him go until I take him and everyone associated with him down.

  "You can’t," I bite the inside of my cheek.

  "What? Why not?"

  "If you do, he’ll kill my best friend. The deal was for me to win your trust, to find the evidence you had on the Mafia and return it, in exchange for—"

  "Your friend’s life?" He snarls. "And what about your life, Gigi, your safety is my priority. You, are my priority. Nothing is more important than you. And that fucker dare pull out a fucking gun and threaten you, in front of me?" His nostrils flare. His biceps bulge, his shoulders seem to grow in size. Hell, Saint in full blown protective alpha mode is... bloody hot. I am going to miss that... so bloody much.

  "I won't let him get away with it." He glares at me.

  "I hadn’t expected him to pull that stunt, Saint. Honestly. If I’d known he was going to hijack your event and ruin your reputation…"

  "Fuck that," he swears.

  "But…but he made you look like a loser." I protest.

  "You’re still here, aren’t you?" He scowls.

  "I can’t stay, Saint."

  His jaw tics, "If you think I am going to let you walk, with that man loose out there..."

  "If he’d wanted to kill me, he’d already have done it. He wanted to cause a diversion to escape. He won’t reveal himself again. His face is too well known. Besides, I am of no use to him anymore."

  He frowns, "So stay with me. I thought I was in control, but all along, it was you who was leading me on. You were always one step ahead, Gigi—"

  "Victoria," I correct him.

  "Fuck that," he growls. He widens his stance, and damn him, but my gaze drops right to the tented fabric between his legs. Surely not. He can’t be aroused. Is that Saint’s resting position? It has to be. That’s how big, how thick… How bloody massive his larger-than-average dick is. I’d felt it inside of me, curled my fingers around it and squeezed him, massaged him and made him come, had taken him down my throat and swallowed his cum, had shattered all over his fingers, ridden his dick as he’d brought me to climax. My thighs clench. My stomach flutters, I press my hand to my belly.

  "What’s wrong?" He frowns.

  "Nothing." I bite the inside of my cheek.

  "Stop lying."

  "Fine," I glower at him. "You want to hear why I don’t want anything to do with you? Why I know there’s no future for us?"

  "Tell me," he leans forward, his fists balled between his knees. "Tell me why you want to leave me."

  I stare into his face and my heart begins to pump hard enough to pound in my throat. My palms begin to sweat. Do it; tell him. I brace my shoulders, "I don't want you."

  44

  Saint

  * * *

  "What?" I blink.

  "I hate what you do to me."

  "You don't." I scan her features.

  "I loathe that we can't be honest with each other." She meets my gaze unblinking, "I despise how you bring out the part of me that I have hidden from for so long."

  She pulls off my ring from her finger; holds it up. The stone glistens in her palm. I stare at it, my heart pounding erratically.

  "Take the ring, Saint."

  I hold out my hand and she drops the piece of jewelry into it.

  "What gets broken without being held?" I close my fingers around it.

  She blinks, chews on her lower lip, "Is it…a promise?"

  My lips twist.

  Her face pales further.

  "Imagine you are in a dark room…" I peer into her face, "How do you get out?"

  She curls her fingers at her sides, "Stop imagining," she whispers.

  "When my mother asked me the same questions, I didn’t have an answer for her. For a long time I was convinced that it's why she left me."

  "Oh, Saint," her features twist. She half sits up, reaches for me.

  I pull away, "I don’t want your pity."

  She half smiles, "Pity is the last thing on my mind where you are concerned."

  I straighten.

  She lowers her brows, "How old were you when she left?"

  "Thirteen." I shuffle my feet. "A year after the incident."

  "When you and the Seven were kidnapped?"

  I nod. Shit, it never gets easier to talk about this. I square my shoulders. "They held up the car I was in, knocked my driver unconscious, and abducted me on the way home from football practice."

  "Is that why you prefer to drive yourself around?"

  I nod, "And why I keep a gun on hand." I raise my shoulders, "No way, will I be so vulnerable again."

  "And the riddles?"

  "What about them?"

  "What got you so dependent on them?"

  I lean forward, squeezing the ring in my palm with such force that the emerald cuts into my skin. The soles of my feet burn; I press my heels into the ground. "I can’t talk about that," I straighten.

  "Can’t or won’t?"

  I rise to my feet, "Does it matter?’

  "And the woman?" She asks.

  I scowl. "It's not what you think it is." I stare into her face.

  She scoffs. "You expect me to believe that?"

  "Believe it..." I raise my shoulders, "or not."

  She stiffens, "Is she your sister? Your cousin? Hell a blood relation of some kind?"

  I shake my head.

  "So who is she?" Her eyebrows knit.

  "She's a... friend."

  "A friend?" She glowers at me.

  "Also a business associate." I crack my neck. "There's uh! Nothing between us."

  "Fine, say I believe you." She wrings her fingers together, "What were you talking about with her?" She sets her jaw. "Why do you go running every time she calls?"

  Shit, I'd done no wrong so why the hell am I feeling defensive?

  I draw in a breath, "I can’t tell you. I told you, I won't put you in danger."

  She throws up her hands. "And you want me to stay? When there are so many secrets between us?"

  "When I make a promise, I keep it, Gi
gi. Unlike you."

  She pales.

  "Shit." I drag my fingers thought my hair, "I didn't mean it."

  "Sure you did."

  We glare at each. She's right. She brings out the worst in me. She makes me feel things I never have... She makes me hurt. Fuck! Why is this thing between us so complicated? Sweat trickles down my back. "You’re right." I glance away. "Whatever was between us, it’s over."

  I turn to leave.

  "And you say you love me?" she huffs.

  I walk toward the exit.

  "I can be a game, but there are no winners, what am I?" her voice stops me.

  I pause, then because I can’t fucking resist, I answer, "Blame."

  "What’s another name for Saint?" she asks.

  I grip the door frame, "Don’t do this, Gigi."

  "Answer me," she snarls.

  I step through the doorway.

  "Coward," her voice follows me out.

  I freeze.

  "You heard me," she huffs, "You don’t have the courage to face up to what’s between us."

  "And you do?"

  "Yes." She presses her hand to her belly, "Everything I am doing is out of love."

  "For whom, Gigi? Everything you’re doing is to punish me."

  "There are some things bigger than you and me."

  "Like what? Lies? Betrayal? Your affliction for that…man who shot you? He’s taking advantage of you. He’s using you Gigi."

  "So be it."

  "He’ll never let your friend go."

  "He will."

  "It was all a farce. If you leave here, you’ll never be safe."

  "We’ll see, shall we?" She sets her jaw.

  I glare at her, "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

  "Why do you have to be so…blinded by your own ego?"

  "It’s the only thing that’s kept me alive so far."

  "What kind of living is it, if you can’t even come clean to your own wife?"

  "Oh, so now you are my wife?" I thrust out my chest.

  She throws up her hands, "Just leave Saint, please."

  "I intend to." I turn to go, when the phone in my pocket vibrates. I slide it out of my pocket, see the message from an unknown number. I swipe open the screen, play the message. A video flickers to life.

  A woman speaks into the screen, "This message is for Victoria." She swallows, "V? This is Nina. I am fine." She glances at someone off-screen. "Antonio has promised not to hurt me as long as no one comes after him." She firms her lips, stares at the screen, "I am fine V, really. Call off whoever is shadowing Antonio. He’ll take care of me." A smile curls her lips. "I believe him, V." She pauses, then adds, "Take care of yourself." The message switches off.