The Billionaire

by J. R. Ward

  He swallowed with a grimace, as if he had a lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Do you?”

  He swept a quick hand over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.”

  “Sean—”

  His tone was hard as he interrupted her. “I really wish you didn’t know. Because you were friends with my father and it would have been better for you to remember him without this. Easier.”

  “I’d rather have the truth. And I am angry at him. I can’t imagine how anyone could do what he did. Damn it, I want to go back in time and take you three out of that apartment so that you got free of it. I really—” She stopped herself and forced her tone to level out. Her getting fired up was not going to help Sean. He was looking really tense, as if he were about to bolt. “I do want to tell you something, though. As I think back to some of my conversations with your father, I believe he regretted his past. And in the two years I knew him, he never touched a drop of alcohol.”

  “Did he say when he quit?”

  “No, but I think it was a long while ago. Once, when I was cleaning up some detergent that had spilled in a cupboard, I found a stashed bottle way in the back. It was dusty.”

  “I found a couple of those, too.”

  As Sean took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, she saw him not as he stood before her now, all tall and powerful. She pictured him as a young boy, scared and fragile. “I’m so sorry, Sean.”

  “Don’t say that.” His voice cracked and he scrubbed his face again.

  “Sean…” She started for him, but he stepped away and she let him go.

  “Yeah…” He passed his palm over his eyes again and collected himself. “So, Lizzie, do you want to know why I came tonight?”

  She frowned. Why had he shown up out of the blue? “Yes…”

  “I heard from Billy. Who went to the lawyer’s today. He told me that you’re giving this house away to the center.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Oh…Well…They need the money. And as I told you, I didn’t ask for that bequest.”

  Sean walked over to some of the boxes she’d packed and ran his hand across them. His profile was characteristically handsome, all broad lines and dark hair.

  “God…Lizzie…I really wish I could undo what I said to you. What I thought about you. What I stupidly believed you were capable of. If you’d been after my father’s money you wouldn’t have let this house go. So those checks…They really were for his expenses, weren’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  He cursed. “I swear I’ve never been wrong so many times about a woman in my whole damn life.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “How can you say that?”

  She took a deep breath. “I guess…because now I understand you a little more, it’s easier to forgive.”

  * * *

  Sean looked over his shoulder. Lizzie was staring at him with impossibly warm eyes, offering him only absolution and tolerance.

  Damn it, he wanted her to yell at him, felt as if he deserved nothing less.

  Especially because he was enough of a bastard to want to take advantage of her pity.

  “You can forgive me, huh,” he murmured. “I’m lucky, then. Because if I were in your shoes, I probably wouldn’t be able to.”

  “We’re different, then.”

  “Yeah, we are.” She was a saint. He was a son of a bitch. “I’m truly sorry, Lizzie. More than you’ll ever know. We were going in a great direction for a while there. You were the first woman I’d cared about in a long, long time and…hell, I blew my shot at what I’ve always wanted but didn’t think I could have, because I have no faith.”

  He went back to the window and looked out to the street.

  He didn’t hear her come up to him, just felt a soft touch on his shoulder. As the contact was made, he whipped his head around, surprised.

  “The thing about forgiveness,” she said, “is that it means you let things go. You start fresh in a different place.”

  Sean’s heart began to pound with crazy hope. But then he figured she was just talking about resolving the mess he’d created and moving on as friends. Or more likely acquaintances. Still, that was better than nothing.

  “I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me, Lizzie. Knowing I don’t deserve it.”

  She reached up to his face. “But you do. We all deserve good things out of life. Each one of us deserves kindness and warmth…and love.”

  His arms moved of their own volition and gathered her against him. He had to force himself to hold her loosely because he wanted to crush her to him.

  “Thank you,” he said roughly into her hair.

  Sean closed his eyes and let the world recede until all he knew was the feel of her warmth and the smell of Ivory soap. His eyes stung at the thought that their paths were not going to ever cross again. The idea of leaving her on a friendly note was more tolerable than them parting as they’d been before. But it was still horrible.

  She pulled back first and he let her go.

  As he scrambled for some excuse to linger, she said, “I want you to go see someone, though.”

  He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “If we’re going to be together, I need you in therapy. I’m willing to cut you all kinds of emotional slack, but I want you working on what happened, okay? Because the truth is, you’re not fine. You’ve got things you need to talk about that require professional help. And unless you get it, we’re just going to end up here again, over something else.”

  All he could do was stare at her. First, because he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. And then because he figured he had and they might still have something…and how many times in life did a miracle fall in your lap?

  “Lizzie, I’m sorry…. Can you be a little clearer? My hearing’s fine, but my brain’s shorted out.”

  She laughed a little. “I want to be with you still. If it’s something you want.”

  “Oh…God. Oh, Lizzie…I don’t deserve this—”

  She cut him off. “I’ll be honest with you. If it weren’t for your past, I probably wouldn’t give things another shot. But because I know what you’ve been through, I guess I feel as though the not-trusting thing is understandable. I mean, that’s hard for you, right? Trusting people.”

  He found himself nodding. “Yeah…Yeah, it really is.”

  “Makes sense. If you grew up in a situation where things were out of control and scary, where you never felt safe, of course that would be hard. But relationships require trust. So if we’re going to be in one, you need to talk to someone—”

  Sean dragged her against him and held her so hard they were one body not two.

  He dropped his head to her neck and said, “I’ll see someone. I swear to you. I’ll do anything to have you in my life. I’m that desperate. I’m that needy for you.”

  He started kissing her and then she was kissing him back and then they were on the couch in a blaze of passion. Clothes flew and someone had to run down to the bedroom for some protection and they ended up on the floor, but it was utterly glorious.

  When the rush was spent and they were in the afterglow, Lizzie glanced over at the tool box.

  “Sean…how would you feel about naming the endowment after your mother? I think I’d rather have her name on it.”

  Sean’s chest ached at her thoughtfulness, her strength, her kindness.

  “I think…I think that would be perfect.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I think that would be perfect…just like you.”

  EPILOGUE

  Two months later…

  Standing in the bathroom of her studio on Beacon Hill, Lizzie looked at herself in a full-length mirror and didn’t recognize who was staring back at her. The woman in the reflection was wearing a black gown and her hair was curled and her makeup was…well, hell, the makeup was fabulous—thanks to help from one of the ladies at the Chanel counter at Macy’s.

  “You look beautiful,” Sean
said from behind her.

  She glanced at him in the glass. He was dressed in a tuxedo and a crisp white shirt and a black bow tie.

  “So do you,” she said, smiling.

  He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. “But I think there’s something missing.”

  She gathered up some of the gown’s skirting then let the chiffon run through her fingers. “Are you kidding me? This dress is perfect. Well, maybe it’s a little long, but I like the train effect.”

  Boy, she couldn’t believe she was in something like this, a Vera Wang dress. Or that she was going to a gala fund-raiser…for the Roxbury Community Health Initiative. It was going to be an amazing night. The governor, Jack Walker, was going to speak and the money raised would go to the Anne W. O’Banyon endowment for the center.

  Sean came around in front of her. “So you think the skirt’s too long?”

  He eased down on one knee and tugged lightly at the dress. As he did, he had a little half smile on his face, a secret grin that she’d learned he only gave to her.

  Over the past two months, they’d seen each other every weekend, either because he flew up or she flew down. They talked on the phone constantly, usually way into the night, and it was safe to say that things were way better than good.

  He’d kept his promise and started to see a therapist, even though she knew bringing up the past was hard on him. When he’d call her afterward and talk to her about the sessions, she could hear the emotion in his voice, but he’d made a commitment and he didn’t stop going. No matter how difficult it was.

  Because her man was like that. Strong.

  “I think the length is perfect,” he said.

  “Still, maybe being in heels is better.” She glanced over her shoulder at a shoe box that was next to the sink. Then turned back. “Could you pass me—”

  Lizzie’s mouth dropped open and her heart stopped beating.

  Sean had taken a small leather box out of somewhere and was holding it up to her with the lid closed.

  “What is that?” she whispered.

  “Like I said, I thought you were missing something.” His eyes were warm and grave as he opened the thing.

  A diamond the size of a thumb glinted out of a black velvet base.

  “Oh…my God…”

  “Lizzie, I know it’s early, but I love you and I want you to be my wife. And I can’t hold on to this ring anymore. It’s been burning a hole in my pocket since I bought the damn thing.”

  He loved her? He loved her?

  He’d never said that before, though she’d suspected it. What he felt for her had been in his eyes and his voice and his body. But she’d figured he might never actually speak the words just because self-expression was hard for him.

  Yeah, well, not only had he let the Big Three fly, he’d backed it up with a serious piece of geology and a proposal.

  Sean flushed. “Lizzie, I didn’t mean to spring this on you. I just can’t not ask. I go for what I want. It’s my nature. And I want you—”

  She fell to her knees in a rush of chiffon and threw her arms around him, crushing the ring between them. “Yes…yes…I’ll be your wife…. I love you, too.”

  As his big body trembled a little, she got the impression he might have been a bit nervous.

  “You know what, Lizzie?” He pulled back, slipped the ring onto her finger and held the diamond in place. “With you in my life, I’ll always be out in the sun on a summer day beside the river. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll always be happy.”

  She smiled through her tears. “It’s the same for me.”

  “Good.” He smiled and his South Boston accent came out in full force. “Because I love you there, Lizzie. Got it wicked bad for you.”

  She laughed and held on to him again. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for a special preview of The Ultimate Betrayal the third book in the gripping Maximum Security series from New York Times bestselling author Kat Martin!

  Available August 2020 from HQN Books.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dallas, Texas

  Too much downtime always made him nervous, kind of edgy as he waited for the other shoe to drop. It had been a week since his last client had headed back to Nashville, Bran’s services as a bodyguard no longer required. A week of peace and quiet he should have enjoyed.

  Instead, he had a nagging feeling that something bad was coming down the line.

  Lounging back in the chair behind his desk at Maximum Security, Brandon Garrett ended the phone conversation he’d been having with Dallas police detective, Heath Ford. Ford was working a murder case that involved one of Bran’s former clients, a white rapper who called himself String Bean. Unfortunately for Bean, when Bran’s services had ended after his last concert tour, he had been murdered.

  Bran’s jaw clenched. String Bean had been a cocky, arrogant little prick, but he didn’t deserve to die. The only good news was that Ford was the best detective on the force. He was following a lead that looked promising, and he wouldn’t give up till he brought the killer to justice. Bran would do whatever he could to help him. Which might turn into something, but not enough to keep him busy.

  The sound of the front door swinging open caught his attention and he glanced up. A gust of cool, late October air swept in, along with a petite, whirlwind of a woman with the prettiest strawberry blond hair Bran had ever seen.

  She had a sweet little body to match her fiery long hair, he noticed, enhanced by the dark blue stretch jeans curving over her sexy ass and the peach knit top that hugged her breasts.

  It wasn’t tough to read the anxiety in her big green eyes as she surveyed the room, gripping a wheeled carry-on, probably coming straight from the airport. But instead of walking to where the receptionist, Mindy Stewart, sat behind the front desk, she paused.

  Her glance slid past the dark red, tufted leather sofa and chairs in the waiting area, over the antique farm tools decorating the walls, to the rows of oak desks where Jonah Wolfe, Jaxon Ryker, Lissa Blayne, and Jason Maddox were all hard at work.

  Those green eyes landed on Bran and as she started toward him, there was something about her that rang a distant bell. Interest piqued, he rose from his chair. “Can I help you?”

  “You’re Brandon Garrett, right? You were a friend of my brother’s. Danny Kegan? I recognize you from the photos Danny sent home.”

  The mention of his best friend’s name hit him like a blow, and the muscles across his stomach clenched. Daniel Kegan had been a member of his spec ops team, a brother, not just a friend. Danny had saved Bran’s life at the cost of his own. He was KIA in Afghanistan.

  Bran stared down at the girl, who was maybe five-foot-four. “You’re Jessie,” he said, remembering the younger sister Daniel Kegan had talked so much about. “You look like him. Same color hair and eyes.” An image arose of Danny’s face along with a painful memory of the day he died. Bran forced away the images of blood and death and concentrated on the woman.

  Nervously, she licked her lips, which were plump and pink and fit her delicate features perfectly.

  “My brother said if I ever needed help, I should come to you. He said you’d help me no matter what.” She glanced back toward the door and his mind shifted away from the physical jolt he felt as he looked at her to the worry in her eyes.

  “Danny was my closest friend. Whatever you need, I’ll help. Come on. Let’s go into the conference room and you can tell me what’s going on.” When her gaze shot back to the door, his senses went on alert.

  “I didn’t mean I needed your help later,” Jessie said nervously. “I meant I need your help right now.”

  Gunshots exploded through the windows. “Get down!” Bran shoved Jessie down to the floor behind his desk and covered her with his body as glass shattered and a stream of bullets sprayed across the room.

  Ryker popped up, gun drawn, and ran for the door. Maddox and Lissa w
ere shuffling through their desks, arming themselves. Wolfe drew his ankle gun and ran for the rear entrance, ready for any threat that might come from there.

  “Black SUV with tinted windows,” Ryker called back. Six feet of solid muscle, dark hair and eyes, Jax was a former Navy SEAL, currently a PI and occasional bounty hunter. “Couldn’t get a plate number.” Jax’s gaze swung to the front of the room. “Mindy, you okay?”

  She eased up from beneath her desk. “I-I’m okay. Should I call the police?” Around here, it was never good to jump to conclusions.

  Bran hauled Jessie to her feet. He could feel her trembling. Her eyes looked even bigger and brighter than they had before. “Are they coming back?” he asked.

  “I-I don’t know. It could have just been a warning.”

  Bran turned to Mindy. “Unless someone’s already phoned it in, let’s wait to call the cops till we know what’s going on.” His attention returned to Jessie. “We need to talk.”

  She just nodded. Her face had gone pale, making a fine line of freckles stand out on her forehead and the bridge of her nose.

  Bran took her arm and urged her toward the conference room. “Keep a sharp eye,” he said to The Max crew. “Just in case.”

  * * *

  Jessie sank unsteadily down in one of the rolling chairs around the long oak conference table. The man she had come to see, Brandon Garrett, sat down beside her.

  “Okay, let’s hear it,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  She thought of the men who had just shot up his office and her pulse started thumping again. “Danny said if I ever needed help--“

  “Yeah, I get that. Your brother knew he could count on me. Like I said, I’ll help you any way I can, but I need to know what’s going on.”

  Bran was taller than Danny, around six-three, she guessed, with a soldier’s lean, hard body, vee-shaped, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Powerful biceps bulged beneath the sleeves of his dark blue T-shirt. With his slightly too-long mink brown hair, straight nose and masculine features, he was ridiculously handsome, except for the hard line of his jaw and the darkness in his eyes that contrasted sharply with their beautiful shade of cobalt blue.