Black Tie Billionaire

by Naima Simone

  Trevor glanced up from the tablet next to his plate. “You’re running late this morning,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

  “A little bit of a restless night,” she explained.

  Several restless nights, actually. But she kept that bit of information to herself, since there was no way she could tell her brother what—or rather who—had been interrupting her sleep lately.

  “Are you okay?” His eyes, hazel like her own, narrowed on her face. “Feeling well?”

  There were moments like this, when concern shone in his gaze, that made it hard to remember the increasingly cold and callous man her brother could be. Right now, he was the caring big brother from her childhood who’d affectionately teased her, who’d spent hours watching TV with her when she’d been sick with the flu and bored. That man had started to make rarer appearances over the last few years—since their father had fallen sick and died.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, cutting into her vegetable omelet. “What am I running late for?”

  “The office. You have a meeting with the representative from the ASPCA. You can’t afford to be late for that, not with the fund-raising gala for Grace Sanctuary just a few nights away. I’m counting on you to make this a success for not just RemingtonNeal but for Mom’s memory,” he reminded her.

  No pressure. She swallowed the retort. Barely.

  While she firmly believed Trevor had created her position and department specifically for her—vice president of Social Development—she did her best for it. Yes, it was an important job—anything bettering their city and the people living there was worthy—but it wasn’t her passion. And it damn sure wasn’t what she’d attended college and earned a BBA and MBA to do. She’d wanted to join her brother in running RemingtonNeal, but like their controlling, domineering father, he’d shot down that idea.

  Usually, Trevor took no interest in her work unless a photo op happened to be attached to it. But Grace Sanctuary belonged to their mother—it had been her pet project before she died, when Shay was eleven and Trevor sixteen. Their father had continued its legacy until he passed, and now they did. The foundation funded various shelters throughout the city, as well as paid veterinarian, adoption and fostering fees for families taking in the animals. The fund-raising gala was important, as the donations from the attendees encompassed a large portion of the budget.

  Still, Shay had headed the committee for the gala the past three years, and the last thing she needed was Trevor breathing down her neck or trying to micro-manage.

  “Everything is going smoothly, and the benefit will be a success like it always has been,” she said.

  “I know it will. After all, it’s in your hands,” Trevor praised softly. “I’m sorry if I’m being overbearing, Shay. And if I haven’t said it before, thank you. Believe me, I would be a lot more of a pain in the ass if you weren’t in charge. I trust you to make this gala the best yet.”

  Warmth spread through her chest, and she swallowed past the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. Here was the big brother she knew and loved. The one whose approval she valued because it meant so much to her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Then, clearing her throat, she asked, “How’s Madison?”

  His fiancée had been joining them for breakfast more often lately. Actually, spending more time at the house, period. As if she were already preparing to be mistress of the home.

  “She’s fine.” He picked up his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. “Just so you’re aware, I gave her a key. She’s dropping by later with an interior designer. There’re some things she wants to change in the living and dining rooms, as I do most of my entertaining in those two places. And since she’ll soon be living here...” He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind, so I told her to go forward with it.”

  Irritation twinged inside Shay’s chest. As usual, Trevor didn’t consult her about anything, even when it had to do with her home. Yes, Madison would soon be moving in as his wife, but it’d been Shay’s home for twenty-five years. Yet it hadn’t occurred to him to ask her opinion, which didn’t count for much with her older brother. Again, like their father.

  The irony of it always struck her. Trevor and their father had had a...complicated relationship. He’d loved and revered Daniel Shay, constantly seeking his stingy approval, while at the same time, resenting his my-way-and-there’s-no-such-thing-as-a-highway attitude when it came to running his company and his family. Especially when it came to raising his only son, who would one day inherit his financial kingdom. Yet, over the years, Trevor had become the reflection of their father. And the battle inside her—the warring factions of anger at his overbearing arrogance and protectiveness for the brother she loved—continued to wage.

  But, as she was discovering, it was pointless to argue with Trevor regarding anything having to do with Madison Reus. Winning the hand of a senator’s daughter had been a coup for him, and he spoiled her like a princess. And like royalty, Madison accepted it as her due.

  That sounded catty even in her own head. God. Shay winced, sipping the coffee Jana had set before her.

  Doesn’t make it any less true, her inner bitch whispered.

  “Of course not,” she said evenly.

  “Good.” He nodded. “What’re your plans for lunch? We could meet so you can give me an update on the benefit.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m meeting Bridgette.”

  Trevor’s mouth thinned into a flat, grim line.

  Yes, she already got that he didn’t like her friendship with the other woman. Bridgette’s mother had worked for the Neal family when they were younger. Lonely, Shay had immediately bonded with the precocious, funny little girl who’d wanted a friend regardless of the difference in their families’ tax brackets. Continuing that friendship had been one of Shay’s very few rebellions against her father’s and brother’s edicts about being a Neal. She loved Bridgette like a sister, and Trevor’s disapproval wouldn’t make her give up her friend.

  “Which reminds me,” Shay continued, not giving him a chance to offer yet another opinion on her relationship with Bridgette. “I won’t be able to make dinner tonight, either. I made other plans.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “Dinner is with the senator, his wife and several of his friends.”

  “I’m aware, and I apologize for backing out at the last moment, but something came up that I can’t reschedule.”

  She returned his stare, not offering an explanation about the “something” even though his eyes demanded one. The words actually shoved at the back of her throat, but she refused to soothe him, to cave just to keep the peace. Especially since he’d been the one to make the plans for this dinner without even checking to see if she was available. Sometimes her brother misinterpreted her silence for meekness. And sometimes she let his high-handedness go. But not when it mattered. And tonight mattered. To her.

  “Shay,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair, his mouth hardening even more. “I know I don’t need to remind you how important the next few months are to me, to our family and, therefore, to RemingtonNeal. This wedding isn’t just gearing up to be the social event of next year, but it’s also only months before Senator Reus’s campaign kicks off. We can’t afford to have anything go wrong. We’re Neals, with a name and reputation above reproach. Don’t do anything to taint either.”

  Anger at his thinly veiled admonishment surged within her, and she fought down the barrage of words blistering her throat. The same throat that constricted as the noose of the Neal name tightened, suffocating her. She’d always been the dutiful daughter, the proper socialite and, except for in her head, had done it all without complaint. But lately, the constraints were chafing, leaving her raw and irritated. In emotional pain.

  Well, you haven’t been that proper.

  The same snarky voice that had taunted her about Madison mocked her again, this time following it
up with a parade of vivid, explicit images of the night she’d spent with Gideon Knight. Her belly clenched, a dark swirl of desire eddying far south of her navel. Flashes of those lust-drenched hours burst in her head like fireworks across a dark July night. Gideon kneeling before her, lips glistening with the evidence of the desire he’d coaxed out of her with that same talented mouth. Gideon leaning over her, midnight hair tumbling around them, his big body moving over hers...in hers.

  Gideon sleeping as she quietly dressed in the murky morning light, the sharp angles and planes of his face not softened by slumber.

  Heat rushed up her chest and throat and poured into her face. She ducked her head over her plate, concealing the flush that surely stained her cheekbones.

  “Shay?”

  She jerked her head up, freeing herself from thoughts of Gideon. Inhaling, she refocused on their conversation. “No, I don’t need to be reminded. And missing one dinner isn’t going to mar the Neal name or threaten the senator’s campaign,” she replied. Ignoring the narrowing of his eyes, she pushed her chair back and stood. “I need to get to the office. I’ll see you later.”

  Leaning over, she brushed a kiss across his cheek, then left the room before he could attempt to dig into her reasons for not complying with his plans. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, she heaved a sigh. The tension that seemed to be more of a common occurrence when she was with Trevor eased from her shoulders.

  Shoulders that were aching from carrying the heavy burden of her brother’s expectations.

  Six

  Shay smiled up at her server as she accepted the black folder containing the check for the meal she’d just finished. Well, a little more than a meal. Her smile widened at the warm glow of satisfaction radiating inside her chest. A business meeting with the two women who had just left the restaurant, and one that had gone extremely well.

  This had been her reason for ducking out on dinner with Trevor, Madison and her family. As much as Shay’s job at RemingtonNeal bored the hell out of her, she was grateful for it. Without the six-figure salary, she wouldn’t be able to finance her own secret company—an investment firm that funded innovative, promising start-ups—start-ups founded by women.

  Shay made it possible for women to achieve their dreams, and with a percentage of the profits, she was able to continue growing her own business. Leida Investments—named after her mother—was hers alone, without any connection to her family. Even the incorporation documents weren’t in her name. The anonymity—and the NDA she had all her clients sign—allowed her the freedom to use the degrees she’d earned without anyone trying to pigeonhole her. Yes, enduring the time she put in at her brother’s company was well worth it when she could be her own boss.

  If Trevor discovered her secret, he would do more than disapprove of it; he would sabotage it. As archaic as it sounded, he possessed firm ideas about her role in the family and the business. He might have created a lip service position for her at RemingtonNeal, but he intended for her to be a replica of their mother—wife, mother, philanthropist, socialite and the perfect hostess. The philanthropist part wasn’t bad, but the rest of it? She mentally shuddered.

  Tonight was a reminder of why she went to such measures to maintain her subterfuge. The excitement and joy that had lit Jennifer Ridland’s and Marcia Brennan’s faces as Shay slid an investment contract across the table had reinforced for her why her company must continue to thrive without any interference from her brother. The two women could revolutionize the travel industry, and she wanted to be the one who helped them do it.

  Oh yes, this was well worth missing out on Trevor’s dinner.

  “Good evening, Ms. Neal. Do you mind if I join you?”

  That voice. Shock blasted through her, and under it wound a current of something darker, sultrier. Her voice and breath crowded into her throat like an angry mob, strangling her for a long, panicked moment.

  Even when Gideon Knight slid into the chair across from her, she remained speechless, frozen. It was as if her thoughts of him earlier that morning had conjured him. The bottomless onyx eyes no longer glittered with lust, but they held the same piercing intensity. It had her wavering between ducking her head and allowing him to pilfer her darkest secrets. The angular but beautiful face with its sharp angles and unsmiling, sinfully full lips... The tall, powerful body that seemed to dwarf the chair and table...

  A shiver shuddered through her body, and she prayed he didn’t notice. What are you doing here? almost tumbled from her lips before she hauled the words back. But recognition didn’t shine in his eyes. Then, why would it? He’d spent a hot, sex-drenched night during a blackout with Camille, a member of the waitstaff. Across from him sat Shay Neal, composed heiress with long, dark brown hair instead of a wig, no glasses, hazel eyes instead of brown contacts and an eggplant-colored, long-sleeved cocktail dress instead of a uniform.

  She bore no resemblance to the woman he’d known. Touched. Brought such immense pleasure.

  “I’m afraid I’m just finishing up dinner, Mr...” She trailed off. God, she felt like such a hypocrite, a liar. Intentional deception wasn’t her. But she couldn’t confess how they knew one another, either. One, she’d lied to him about her identity. Two, if he discovered that she and Camille were the same person, he could use that to embarrass her family. If Trevor found out... She mentally shook her head. No, not an option.

  “Gideon Knight,” he said, setting a brown folder on the table. “And I promise not to take up too much of your time. But I believe you will want to hear what I have to say.”

  Though every instinct for self-preservation inside her screamed to run and run now, she remained seated. His almost emotionless tone didn’t conceal the faint warning in his words.

  And then there was the part of her—the part she struggled not to acknowledge—that trembled with desire from just being near Gideon. If she could just erase that night from her head...

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Knight, but I don’t know you.” Not a lie. Biblical knowledge didn’t equate knowing someone. “Therefore, I don’t believe there is anything we need to speak about. So if you’ll excuse me...”

  She set her napkin on the table and started to rise from her chair. Yes, she was being rude, but desperation trumped manners. She needed to get away from him before she did something foolish. Such as beg him for a repeat of a night that never should’ve happened.

  “I know your secret, Ms. Neal.”

  Shay froze. Except for her heart. It pounded against her sternum like an anvil against steel. Hard. Deafening.

  Slowly, she lowered herself to her seat, forcing her expression into one of calm disinterest. Hiding the fear that coursed through her like a rushing current.

  He knew about the night of the blackout? What had she done to betray her identity? Oh God. What did he intend to do with the information?

  “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied.

  His aloof, shuttered demeanor didn’t alter as he cocked his head and studied her. “Is your brother aware of where you are tonight? Does he know about the meeting you concluded just minutes ago?”

  Wait. What? “I’m sorry?” she asked.

  “Does he know about Leida Investments?” he clarified, leaning back in his chair. “I must admit, I can’t imagine Trevor Neal supporting his sister running a company that is outside of RemingtonNeal. More specifically, out from under his control.”

  Equal parts relief and unease swirled in her belly. Relief because he still hadn’t equated her with Camille. But unease because how did he know about her business? Better question, why did he care?

  “Forgive me for not seeing how it’s any of your concern,” she answered, ice in her voice.

  “Forgiveness. Oh, we’re so far past that,” he murmured, and as she frowned at the cryptic words, he slid the brown folder across the table toward her.

 
That sense of unease morphed into dread as she stared at the banded file. She lifted her hand, but at the last moment, she froze, her fingers hovering above it as if it were a scorpion, ready to strike and poison her with its venom.

  Yet she grasped it, then opened it.

  Minutes later, her heart thudded against her chest wall like a hammer against stone. The pounding clang in her head deafened her. God, she wished it would blind her to what she was reading.

  Report after report detailing shady business deals involving her brother, and even some with his future father-in-law, Senator Reus. Bribery for product placement, undercutting bidding contracts, predatory practices, procuring illegal campaign contributions on behalf of the senator. And these were just some of the accusations leveled against Trevor and RemingtonNeal.

  “Why are you showing me these...these lies?” She dropped the stack back on the table as if it singed her fingertips. If it didn’t betray weakness, she would’ve shoved her chair back from the table just to place more space between that file and her.

  “Lies?” He arched a black eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest of sneers. “Facts, Ms. Neal. Your determination to believe they’re false doesn’t make it so.”

  “And your determination to believe they’re true doesn’t make it so,” she snapped, throwing his words back at him. “I don’t know you, and I damn sure don’t know the people who gathered this defamatory conjecture.” She flicked a corner of the folder. “Let’s face it, Mr. Knight. If any of this was provable in court, you wouldn’t be sitting here across from me at a restaurant table. You would be meeting with the DA or SEC.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, cruel satisfaction glinting in his eyes. “It’s amazing how the court of public opinion will try and convict someone much swifter than a court of law.”

  Her stomach rolled, bile churning before racing for the back of her throat. She hated to admit it, but he was right. Good God, if any of this information leaked, it would destroy Trevor’s reputation, his engagement, and irreparably harm the family company. It wouldn’t matter if the claims couldn’t be proved; the speculation alone would be detrimental and the damage irreversible. Since their father died, Trevor’s one goal—no, his obsession—had been to enlarge RemingtonNeal, to make it even more successful and powerful than what their father had done. None of that would be possible if even an iota of the data in this dossier was true.