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

by L. Steele

  "Seems that way," I huff. "He was never an easy man to comprehend."

  "Don’t talk about him."

  A warm sensation blooms my chest, "You jealous?"

  He laughs, the sound bitter, "My wife has a history with another man, a past I don’t know anything about. What do you think?"

  "I was a virgin."

  His knuckles on the wheel tighten. "There are other ways to have a relationship, other than a physical one."

  "And you think that’s what I had with Antonio?"

  "You tell me."

  "He was my contact with the Mafia. He's the one who negotiated a deal with them to ensure Nina's release—in return for getting him the USB with the video clip of you being held in that room."

  He makes a noise deep in his throat.

  I glance sideways at him, "I’m sorry, Saint."

  "For what?"

  "For giving the media a chance to tear down your reputation."

  "I don’t give a fuck about that."

  "And your company, the losses it suffered because of the ensuing media uproar?"

  "I managed to shut down most of the journalists who were there that day."

  "How?" I turn to him, "Of course, you paid them to stay quiet."

  "Just when you think money doesn’t buy everything… It surprises you with how much it does help."

  "So, I guess you survived that unscathed then."

  "Except for the fact that my wife betrayed me, and handed over the most important piece of evidence of what had turned my life upside down."

  I wince, bunching fingers into fists.

  "You could have simply asked me. I’d have given the USB to you."

  I swing around to face him, "You would have done that?"

  "Maybe," he raises a shoulder. "Of course, I’d have extracted my punishment for it."

  My toes curl.

  "And you’d have loved every minute of it."

  His lips twist in that smirk that’s hot and mean, and seems to promise more of all the filthy things that he'd ever done to me.

  I fold my hands in my lap, "I’m not coming to your hotel."

  "I’m not allowing you to return to that apartment."

  "You know where…?" I straighten, "Of course, you do. I’m surprised you don’t own the entire building."

  He stays silent.

  I turn sideways in my seat, "You do, don’t you? You own the building."

  He stays focused on the road.

  "What did you offer Amelie this time?"

  "Nothing. She refused to help me. I…" he flicks a quick glance, "I used my resources."

  "It was too much to hope you’d simply let me leave and get on with my life?"

  "What about the life you carry inside of you?"

  I pale. "You…you guessed?"

  "Weston told me," his features harden.

  I stare straight ahead. "You couldn’t crack my riddle that day. Imagine that? You, who are able to solve almost any puzzle. You couldn’t guess the answer."

  "Even I have my shortcomings, it seems," he retorts.

  "Or maybe you didn’t want to find out what I meant?" I tip up my chin, "Admit it, you don’t want this child."

  48

  Saint

  * * *

  "I want to take care of you, Victoria." I keep my gaze focused on the road. "Since the first time I saw you, it’s all I’ve wanted to do. I can’t share you with anyone else."

  "Not even our child?"

  "I didn’t say that." I tighten my jaw.

  "What are you saying then?"

  Her voice sounds tired, defeated. I glance sideways to find her hunched back into her seat. Dark circles surround her eyes. There are hollows below her cheekbones. Her beautiful hair is disheveled. She looks fragile, exhausted by everything she’s faced. I tighten my fingers on the steering wheel. I had failed in my duties as her husband. I had promised to protect her, shield her from the world. I had let my fears, the bad things I’d imagined could happen, get in the way.

  Oh, a part of me had guessed what she was trying to say that day.

  My subconscious had clocked the way she had placed her palm on her belly, how she’d glanced at me with hope and trepidation. How she’d straightened her shoulders, ready to take on anyone, even me—the man who was hers. I slam my hand against the steering wheel.

  She stiffens.

  "Sorry," I mutter under my breath. Fuck, for someone who always knows what he wants, I sure am unable to interpret the signals that my brain is trying to send me. "Come back with me, Gigi. Give me a chance to show you how it could be between us."

  "You mean, hurt me again? Trample all over my feelings and refuse to acknowledge what’s between us?"

  "I love you. I’ve told you that already. Hell, I married you."

  "And served me divorce papers."

  "I thought that’s what you wanted."

  Her lips turn down. She glances away.

  Anger laces my blood. Frustration twists my guts. "Let’s talk about this later, shall we?"

  She nods.

  That worries me more. Gigi’s always been a fighter, feisty to the core, challenging me at every turn. Fuck, that’s what had attracted me to her—that core of unshakeable steel inviting me to push her, control her, try to manipulate her to get a response from her. Perhaps the entire ordeal had finally caught up with her. That fucker, Antonio, had accomplished what I hadn’t been able to do during the course of our time together. No way, am I letting him get away with this latest attempt at trying to kidnap her. If he thinks simply getting some woman to record a video asking me to keep away was going to cut it, then he is wrong, so wrong.

  I pull up at the curb of Claridge's. Jumping out of the car, I walk around to open the door. She steps out. I grab her hand, entangle our fingers, and lead her up the sidewalk.

  A gust of wind blows, knocking over the sign the homeless man holds. It falls right in my path. I pause, glance down.

  * * *

  "How should I greet thee?

  With silence and tears."

  * * *

  I swear aloud; she stiffens.

  "What’s wrong?" she asks.

  "Nothing…" I step over the hardboard sign, head for the door of the hotel.

  "Thanks for dinner," Homeless guy calls out.

  I pause, half turn, to find he's packing up his shit. He places his hat on his head, then rises to his feet.

  "You ain't as much of a tosser as you seem," he chuckles.

  I blink, watch as he plonks the sign over his shoulder, then marches up the road.

  "Is that fucking odd or what?" I pivot, stalk toward the hotel.

  "Why did he thank you for dinner?" she queries.

  "He probably eats every night at the hotel," I mutter.

  "He does?"

  I nod, "All of the leftovers of the day are donated every night, in a makeshift soup kitchen we set up in the back."

  Her forehead furrows, "You do that?"

  "It’s economical." Heat suffuses my face, "Don’t go making me out to be empathetic or some such shit, because I’m not."

  "Of course, not." Her lips curve slightly.

  The wind blows again and she shivers. I pull her close, steer her up the steps and through the open door. Bypassing the main elevators in the lobby, I head for the one at the far end of the floor. The doors open almost immediately, and I step inside with her.

  I frown, "Did you see his face? The guy who took you?"

  She shakes her head, "I only heard him a couple of times through the closed door of my room."

  She curls her finger into my shirt and I cuddle her even closer. "You’re safe with me, Gigi."

  "So you keep saying," she sniffs.

  "I mean it."

  She peers up at me, "I know."

  "I won’t let Antonio or anyone else get to you."

  "Antonio won’t hurt—"

  "That’s all I am going to say on the topic," I growl.

  She purses her lips. For a seco
nd, I am sure she’s going to counter me, then she draws in a breath and nods. "Truce?"

  "For now."

  "Jesus," she huffs, "can’t you ever let me have the last word?"

  "Never," I allow my lips to curl.

  She frowns. The doors open, I step onto the penthouse floor, then guide her to my hotel suite. Once inside, I pull her with me, through the living room, into the bedroom, then the ensuite.

  "What are you doing?"

  I don’t answer. If I do, no doubt, my words will hurt her further. I reach the tub and turn on the water. Steam instantly rises in the air. I lift her onto the counter, then undo her buttons.

  She tries to pull her shirt off. I catch her hands in mine, "Let me, Gigi, please."

  She tips up her chin, searching my features. What is she looking for?

  Her green eyes darken and her lips part. Her fingers tremble in mine. I move in closer. She parts her legs and I step into the space between them. "Gigi," my voice comes out harsh.

  "I love it when you call me that."

  I allow my lips to curl, "Thought you hated my nickname for you."

  "I lied," she whispers.

  "I know," I lower my head, until our eyelashes tangle.

  "I’m sorry," her lips tremble and a tear slides down her cheek. I bend down and lick it up. A sob catches in her throat.

  I place my forehead against hers, "Don’t cry, Gigi." I swallow down the lump that blocks my throat. Fuck, what is it about this woman that guts me so completely?

  "Didn’t mean to," her chin wobbles.

  "I’d fucking slay anything that causes you misery. I’ll drown out the entire fucking world, set fire to the monsters that lurk in the dark around you. I… I’ll rip open my chest and show you what it means to be near you."

  "Would you accept this child as yours?"

  My eyes fly open. "I’ll never shirk my responsibilities when it came to the two of you."

  "That’s not what I asked."

  I step back, reach above her to pull out the antiseptic and cotton wads. "It’s all I can give you right now."

  "It won’t be enough."

  "Can we take this one day at a time? I am trying Victoria, I promise I am." I place the medicines on the counter next to her, then reach for her shirt. This time she allows me to undo the buttons, help her out of the shirt.

  I take in the mark on her shoulder. A growl rips out of me, "Fuck." I reach out to touch the fading scar. She flinches.

  "Does it hurt?"

  "Not anymore."

  "Fuck, this was my fault."

  "Stop trying to take responsibility for everything." She squares her shoulders. "I am the one who played ball with the Mafia… Things were bound to get a little crazy. I mean, it’s not like they’d have let me walk away without paying a price."

  I grit my teeth so hard, my jaw hurts. "I’ll ensure they never get to you again."

  "I know." She smiles a little, "I always knew you would be my knight in shining armor."

  "More like the villain."

  "I have a thing for bad guys."

  "I noticed." I chuckle, "So long as it’s me you’re talking about and not that bastard..."

  "You really don’t have to worry about Antonio."

  "How can you be so confident?"

  "Nina, the woman in the video?"

  I nod.

  "He…has a thing for her. It’s the only reason I agreed to take on this entire mission, knowing he’d never let anything happen to her. It’s why he’ll take the evidence I gave him to the Mafia and ensure that they stick to their word."

  "I hate it," I growl. "No way, am I going to put your future in the hands of that motherfucker, I am going to track him down and when I do—"

  "What?" A new voice rings out. "What will you do?"

  I swivel around, ensuring my body is between her and whoever’s walked in.

  "What the fuck are you doing here?"

  49

  Victoria

  * * *

  "Antonio," I try to scramble off the counter, only Saint steps back, imprisoning me.

  "What game are you trying to play, Victoria?" Antonio’s hard voice fills the space.

  I shove against Saint; he doesn’t move. He may as well have turned into a concrete wall. "I need to talk to him," I mutter, keeping my voice to a whisper.

  Saint’s shoulders bunch.

  "You can talk from where you are."

  Right. I glance down at myself, then do up my buttons. I give his back another shove; he still doesn’t move. I huff, then peek around him, "What are you doing here?" I scowl at Antonio. "I thought you'd be on your way back to Sicily by now?"

  "Sicily?" Saint exclaims.

  "Shit." I clap my palm over my mouth.

  "The hell?" Antonio looks between us, then folds his arms over his chest. "You bugged the USB drive?" He glowers at me, "You thought I wouldn’t find out?"

  "Bugged?" I blink, "I didn’t."

  "That was me," Saint says.

  "What?" I exclaim.

  Antonio swears under his breath, "I should have trusted my instincts and left when I had a chance."

  "That, you should have," says another voice.

  Antonio swings around.

  Weston stands there, arm in a sling.

  Antonio reaches for his gun, but Sinclair steps inside the bathroom door, gun aimed at Antonio, "Don’t even think about it."

  Antonio freezes.

  Sinclair jerks his chin and Antonio walks forward. Weston steps aside, allowing Antonio to walk through.

  Sinclair follows.

  Weston glances at Saint, "You guys okay?"

  Saint nods, "Thanks, man. I owe you."

  A look passes between them, then Weston retreats, "We’ll be in the living room. Don’t take too long; we need to figure out what to do with this mofo."

  The door closes.

  Saint swings around to face me. "You okay?" he grips my shoulders.

  A trembling grips me as adrenaline drains from my blood. "You…you knew that I was going to hand over the evidence to him?"

  "You didn't mention that he had connections to Sicily?" He retorts.

  "He's part of the Mafia... of course they're connected to Sicily." I mutter, then throw my hands up. "I didn't think it was important okay? I peer up at him, "Guess we still have secrets from each other?"

  He peruses my futures, then exhales a breath. "Why the hell can't we trust each other?"

  "I'm trying." I mutter.

  "Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "So am I." His lips quirk, "and to answer your question, I suspected that you might do so."

  Oh.

  I raise my fingers to my lips, he grabs my wrist. "No biting your fingernails." He admonishes me.

  O-k-a-y. I peer up into his face, "So, all this time, when you pretended you wanted nothing to do with me, you—"

  He nods. "I had my men follow you. I tracked your movements."

  "Even in the apartment?"

  He frowns.

  "Please don’t hold back, Saint."

  "There are cameras at the apartment," he finally concedes.

  "You spied on me?"

  "Not…always."

  "But you did."

  "On occasion…" He draws himself up to his full height, "I watched you bring yourself to orgasm every night, and wished I was there. It should have been my hands on you, my cock buried inside you, it should have been me wringing those moans from you instead of an inanimate object."

  My cheeks burn, "Shit, you saw all that?" It should be creepy and awfully stalkerish, so why do I find it strangely reassuring that he’d had his eye on me all this time?

  He tilts his head, "How else do you think I survived the last few weeks?"

  I frown, "Yet you didn’t guess I was pregnant until Weston told you."

  His chest rises and falls, straining against the shirt he wears. "I am a dick. What can I say? The mind recognizes what it wants to."

  I chuckle, "Well, we make a fine pair, don
’t we?" The hair on my forearms rises. "We’re so bloody wrong for each other."

  "On the contrary, I can’t think of anything more right. You bring out the worst…and the best in me. You drive me insane, Gigi. You tie me up in knots, and every time I think I’ve figured you out, you throw me a surprise."

  "Is that good or bad?"

  "It’s good…and bad." He leans down and licks my lips, "And it’s definitely a bloody turn on. Thing is, there is no one for me but you."

  "Even though I am pregnant with your child."

  "Especially because you are pregnant with my child," his blue eyes deepen with some emotion I can’t quite place.

  "I don’t want you to feel like you have to do the right thing by me."

  "I only want to do all the wrong things to you," he smirks.

  "You know that’s not what I mean."

  He pulls away and the cold air swoops over me. Damn it, why do I miss his presence already?

  "I swore never to bring any child into the world—to allow myself to become that vulnerable, to imagine what could happen if he or she was kidnapped and kept hostage..." His entire body tightens, "If any child of mine had to go through what I did, I swear, I’d kill anyone and everyone who’d harm a hair on their head."

  I stiffen, sweep my gaze over his face, "Is that what you’re afraid of? Being vulnerable?"

  "Not being able to protect my child from the world. That’s my worst nightmare."

  "You protected me, didn’t you?"

  "I allowed you to get kidnapped on my watch." He scowls.

  "You found me didn't you?" I half smile. "I bet you watched me every hour of the day and night to ensure I was safe."

  "And still, he managed to get his hands on you."

  He doesn’t deny it then. I am not sure how that makes me feel. Cared for? Creeped out? Both? And turned on? To be the focus of someone’s attention to the exclusion of anything else… Is there any other feeling in the world that can equal that absolute single-minded intensity of his gaze?

  "You saved me." I grab his hand and press it to my belly, "You saved both of us."

  He squeezes his eyes shut, "Stop trying to make me into some kind of hero. I’m the kind of monster you should stay away from!"