The Billionaire's Bargain (Blackout Billionaires Book 1)

by Naima Simone

  She didn’t get to smear the family that had become his own. Gage had been his best friend, his confidante, his brother. Helena had stepped in as his mother. And Baron had been his friend, his mentor, his guiding hand in the multimillion-dollar financial-investment company Darius’s father had left behind for his young, inexperienced son.

  So no, she didn’t get to malign them.

  “I’m his mother,” she said.

  As if that settled everything.

  When it didn’t.

  “And they’re his grandparents,” he countered. “Grandparents who can afford to provide a stable, safe, secure and loving home for him to thrive and grow in. He’ll never want for anything, will have the best education and opportunities. Aiden should have all of his family in his life. You, me, his grandparents and aunt. He should enjoy a fulfilled, happy childhood, with the security of two parents and without the weight of struggle. With you marrying me, he will.”

  And the Wellses would avoid a prolonged custody battle that could further tax Baron’s health and possibly endanger his life. His recovery from the heart attack was going well, but Darius refused to add stress if he could avoid it.

  Besides, as CEO and president of King Industries Unlimited, the conglomerate he’d inherited from his father, not only would Aiden be taken care of, but so would Isobel. She would want for nothing, have all the money available to satisfy her every materialistic need. He had experience with bearing the albatross of a greedy woman with Faith, his ex-wife, and though it galled him to have to repeat history, he’d rather take the financial hit than allow Isobel to extort more money from the Wellses. They’d protected him once, and he would gladly, willingly do the same for them.

  “No.” Isobel stared up at him, shoulders drawn back, hands curled into fists at her side. Though she still wore the evidence of her worry, she faced him like one general standing off against another. A glimmer of admiration slipped through his steely resolve. She’d reminded him of Napoleon earlier, and she did so again. But like that emperor, she would fail and eventually surrender. “I don’t care how pretty you wrap it up, blackmail is still blackmail. And I’m not giving in to it. Now, for the last time, get out of my house.”

  “Call it what you want to help you sleep at night,” he murmured. He reached inside his suit jacket and removed a silver business card holder. He withdrew one as he strode to the breakfast bar, and then set it on the counter. “Think carefully before you make a rash decision you’ll regret. Here’s where you can reach me.”

  She didn’t reply, just stalked to the front door and yanked it open.

  “This isn’t anywhere near over, Isobel,” he warned, exiting her apartment.

  “Maybe it isn’t for you. But for me, I’m going to forget all about you as soon as you get out.” And with that parting shot, she closed the door shut behind him. Or more accurately, in his face.

  He didn’t immediately head down the hallway, instead pausing a moment to stare at the door. And smile.

  He’d meant what he’d told her. This wasn’t over.

  And damn if he wasn’t looking forward to the next skirmish.

  Four

  A week later, Isobel drove through the winding, tidy streets of Lake Forest. During the hour and fifteen minutes’ drive from South Deering, the inner-city landscape gave way to the steel-and-glass metropolis of downtown, to the affluent suburb that made a person believe she’d stepped into a pretty New England town. The quaint ice cream shop, bookstore, gift shop and boutiques in the center of the town emanated charm and wealth. All of it practically shouted history, affluence and keep the hell out, riffraff!

  She would be the aforementioned riffraff. Discomfort crawled down her neck. Her decade-old Honda Civic stuck out like a sore thumb among the Aston Martins, Bugattis and Mercedes Benzes like a poor American relation among its luxurious, foreign cousins. Her GPS announced her upcoming turn, and she returned her focus to locating Darius’s home.

  Minutes later, Siri informed her that she’d reached her destination.

  Good. God.

  She didn’t know much about architecture other than what she retained from the shows on HGTV, but even she recognized the style of the three-story home as Georgian. Beautiful golden bricks—not the weathered, dull color of her own apartment building—formed the outside of the huge structure, with its sloped roof and attached garage. It curved in an arc, claiming the land not already seized by the towering maple trees surrounding the property. Black shutters framed the many windows that faced the front and bracketed the wide wine-red door.

  “You are not in South Deering anymore,” she murmured to herself.

  No wonder Darius had scrutinized her tiny apartment with a slight curl to his lips. He called this beautiful, imposing mansion home. Her place must’ve appeared like a Hobbit hole to him. A Hobbit hole from the wrong side of the Shire tracks.

  Sighing, she dragged her attention back to the reason she’d driven out here.

  She had a marriage bargain to seal.

  After climbing the three shallow steps that led to the front door, she rang the bell. Only seconds passed before it opened and—instead of a housekeeper or butler—Darius stood in the entryway.

  It wasn’t fair.

  His masculine beauty. His affect on her.

  She was well versed in the danger of handsome men. They used their appearance as a lure—a bright, sensual lure that entranced a woman, distracted her from the darkness behind the shiny exterior. And by the time a woman noticed, it was way too late...

  Even though she was aware of the threat he presented, she still stared at him, fighting the carnal thrall he exuded like a pheromone. His dark brown hair waved away from his strong brow, emphasizing the slashing cheekbones, patrician nose, full lips and rock-hard jaw with the faint dent in the chin. And his eyes...vivid, golden and piercing. They unleashed a warm slide of heat in her veins, even as she fought the urge to duck her head and avoid that scalpel-sharp gaze.

  With a quick glance, she took in the black turtleneck and slacks that draped over his powerful shoulders, wide chest and muscular thighs. It didn’t require much effort to once again feel those thighs under hers or recall the solid strength of his chest under her hands. Her body tingled with the memory, as if he’d imprinted himself in her skin, in her senses, that night. And no matter how she tried, she couldn’t evict him.

  “Isobel.” The way that low, cultured drawl wrapped around her name was indecent. “Come in.”

  She dipped her chin in acknowledgment and moved forward. Doing her best not to touch him, she still couldn’t avoid breathing in his delicious scent—cedar and sun-warmed air, with a hint of musk that was all male. All him. She’d tried her best to forget the flavor of him from that night, too. Epic fail.

  The heels of her boots clacked against the hardwood floor of the foyer, and she almost bent to remove them, not wanting to make scuff marks. She studied the house, not even attempting to hide her curiosity. Yes, the inside lived up to the splendor of the exterior. A wide staircase swept to an upper level, and two airy rooms extended from each side of the entryway. Huge fireplaces, furniture that belonged in magazines and rugs that could’ve taken up space in museums. And windows. So many windows, which offered views of acres of land.

  But she examined her surroundings for hints into the man who owned the home. Framed photos lined the mantel in one of the living rooms, but she couldn’t glimpse the images from this distance. Were they of the parents he’d told her about during the blackout? Were they of Gage, when they were teens? Around the time he’d saved Darius’s life? Did the photographs contain images of the Wellses?

  Her survey swept over the expected but beautiful portraits of landscapes and zeroed in on a glass-and-weathered-wood box. A step closer revealed a collection of antique pocket watches. She shifted her inspection to Darius, who watched her, his expression shuttered. Oh, th
ere had to be a story there.

  But she wasn’t here to find it out.

  “You know why I’m here,” she said. “I’d like to get this over with.”

  “We can talk in the study.” He turned, and after a moment of hesitation, she followed.

  They entered the massive room, where two walls were floor-to-ceiling windows and the other two were filled with books. A large, glossy black desk dominated one end, and couches, armchairs and an immense fireplace claimed the rest. It invited a person to grab a book and settle in for a long read. She couldn’t say how she knew, but she’d bet her last chocolate bar that Darius spent most of his time here.

  “So, you’ve come to a decision.” He perched on the edge of his desk and waved toward one of the armchairs. “Please, have a seat.”

  “No, thank you,” Isobel murmured. “I—” She swallowed, for an instant unable to force the words past her suddenly constricted throat. A wave of doubt assailed her, but she broke through it. This was the right decision. “I’ll agree to marry you.”

  She expected a gloating smile or a smirk. Something that boasted, I win.

  Instead his amber gaze studied her, unwavering and intense. Once more she had the inane impression that he could see past her carefully guarded shields to the vulnerable, confused and scared woman beneath. Her head argued it was impossible, but her heart pounded in warning. His figuring out her fears and insecurities when it came to the situation and him would be disastrous.

  “What made you change your mind?” he asked.

  No way was she telling him about arriving home with Aiden after work one night last week to find the police staked out in front of her building because of a burglary and assault. It’d only nailed home Darius’s warning about the unsafety of her environment—for her and for Aiden.

  Instead she shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “This was a hard decision for you, wasn’t it?” he murmured.

  Anger flared inside her like a struck match. “Why would you say that? Maybe I just held out longer so you wouldn’t guess how giddy I am to have a chance at all your money? Or maybe I was hoping you would just offer more. I’m a mercenary, after all, always searching for the next opportunity to fill my pockets.” His mouth hardened into a firm line, but she didn’t care. She was only stating what they both knew he thought of her character. Straightening from the chair, she crossed her arms over her chest and hiked her chin up. “Like I said, I’ll agree to marry you, but I have a few conditions first. And they’re deal breakers.”

  He nodded, but the slight narrowing of his eyes relayed his irritation. Over her sarcasm or her stipulations, she couldn’t tell, but in the end, neither mattered. Just as long as he conceded.

  “First, you must promise to place Aiden, his welfare and protection above anything else. Including the Wellses’ needs and agenda.”

  Another nod, but this one was tighter. And the curves of his mouth remained flattened, grim. As if he forced himself to contain words he wanted to say. If that were the case, he controlled it, and she continued.

  “Second, I’m Aiden’s mother, and since he’s never known a father, you’ll fill that role for him. If you don’t, I won’t go through with this. If you can’t love and accept him as if he’s your own blood, your son, then we’re done. I won’t have him hurt or rejected. Or worse, feel like he doesn’t belong.” Like she had. The soul-deep pain of being unworthy had wounded her, and she still bore the scars. She wouldn’t subject Aiden to that kind of hurt. Even if it meant going to court.

  “He is my blood,” Darius said, and she blinked, momentarily stunned by his fierceness. “Gage and I might not have shared the same parents, but in all other ways we were brothers. And his son will be mine, and I’ll love Aiden how his father would have if he’d lived and had the chance.”

  Satisfaction rolled in, flooding her and sweeping away the last of her doubts surrounding that worry. Even if Darius knew next to nothing about the man he called his brother. She believed him when he said he’d love Aiden how Gage should have.

  “Which brings me to my next concern. I’m Aiden’s mother and have been making all decisions regarding him since he was born. I’m not going to lie and claim including you will be an easy adjustment, but I promise to try. But that said, we’re his parents, and we will make those decisions together. Us. Without interference from the Wellses.”

  “Isobel,” he growled, pushing off the desk. He stalked a step closer to her, but then drew to an abrupt halt. Shoving a hand through his hair, he turned his head to stare out the window, a tic pulsing along his clenched jaw.

  Cursing herself for doing it, she regarded the rigid line. That night when they’d been two nameless, faceless people in the dark, she hadn’t needed sight to tell how strong and hard his jaw had been. Her fingers and lips had relayed the information.

  God, she needed to stop dwelling on that night. It was gone, and for all intents and purposes, it didn’t happen. It’d disappeared as soon as the morning light had dawned.

  “Isobel.” He returned his attention to her, and she braced herself for both the impact of his gaze and his words. “I agree with your conditions, but they are his grandparents. And you need to understand that I won’t keep him away from them.”

  Like you have. The accusation remained unsaid, but it screamed silently in the room.

  “I emailed Baron and Helena pictures of Aiden after I left for California. And when every one of those messages bounced back as if I’d been blocked, I mailed them, along with letters telling them how he was doing and growing. But they came back unopened, marked ‘return to sender.’ So I didn’t keep him from them. They kept themselves out of his life.”

  Darius frowned. “Why would they lie about that?”

  “Yes. Why would they lie about that?” She shook her head, holding up a hand when his lips parted to what would, no doubt, be another defense of his friend’s family. “I have one last condition.”

  She paused, this one more difficult than the previous ones. Demanding things on Aiden’s behalf proved easy for her. But this one... This one involved her and Darius. And it acknowledged that something had happened between them. That “something” being he’d made her body sing like an opera diva hitting notes high enough to shatter glass.

  “What is it?” Darius asked when she didn’t immediately state the added rule.

  “No sex,” she blurted out. Mentally rolling her eyes at herself, she inhaled a deep breath and tried it again. “This arrangement is in name only. No sex.”

  He stilled, his powerful body going motionless. Shadows gathered in his gaze, broiling like a storm building on a dark horizon.

  “I guess I need to applaud your honesty,” he drawled. “This time around, you’re being up front about your plans to betray your husband with another man.”

  Fury scalded her, and as unwise as it was, she stalked forward, until only inches separated them. “You’re so damn sure of yourself. It must be nice to know everything and have all the answers. To be so sure you have all the facts, when in truth you don’t. Know. A. Damn. Thing,” she bit out.

  He lowered his head until their noses nearly bumped, and his breath coasted across her mouth. She could taste his kiss, the sinful, addictive flavor of it.

  Memories bombarded her. Memories of his lips owning hers, taking, giving. Of his hands cupping her breasts, tweaking the tips that even now ached and taunted beneath her bra. Of his fingers burying themselves inside her over and over, stroking places inside her that had never been touched before.

  Of his cock, so hard and demanding beneath her...

  “So you don’t care if I take another woman?” he pressed, shifting so another inch disappeared.

  An image of him covering someone else, moving over her, straining against her...driving into her, filled her head. A hot wave of anger swamped her, green-tipped claws raking her chest. Her finge
rs curled into her palms, but she shook her head. Whether it was to rid herself of the mental pictures or in denial of the emotion that smacked of jealousy—a jealousy she had no business, no right, to feel—she didn’t know.

  “No,” she lied, retreating. “Just respect my son and me.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped into a scornful half smile. “Of course,” he said, the words containing more than a hint of a sneer. “Now I have a couple of conditions. The first, we marry in three months. That should give you plenty of time to become accustomed to the arrangement, me and condition number two. You and Aiden are going to move in with me.”

  Oh, hell no. “No, not happening.”

  He nodded. “Yes, you are,” he contradicted, the flint in his voice echoed in his eyes. “That’s my deal breaker. One of my reasons for this whole arrangement is for Aiden to be raised in a safe, secure environment. He’ll have both here.”

  “Okay, fine. I understand that. But why do we need to live with you. We could find an apartment or home in Edison Park or Beverly—”

  “No,” he stated flatly, cutting her protest off at the knees. “You’ll both live here, and Aiden will know a home with two parents. This isn’t a point for discussion, Isobel.”

  Shit. Living under the same roof as Darius? That would be like Eve sleeping under the damn apple tree. Temptation. Trouble. But what option did she have? Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Okay, she could do it. Besides, this house was huge. She didn’t even have to occupy the same side as Darius.

  “Fine,” she breathed. “Is there anything else?” She had the sudden need to get out of the house. Away from him. At least until she had no choice but to share his space.

  “One last thing,” he said, his tone deepening, sending an ominous tremor skipping up her spine. “Say my name.”

  She stared at him, not comprehending his request. No, his order.