A Billionaire Between the Sheets (21 page)

“How did you know where to find it?” she asked.

“The name was in the painting,” he said absently.

Olivia looked at him, noticing for the first time how intently he was studying the shop across the street. It was a touristy shop that sold souvenirs, but there was something so familiar about the bay window and the purple door—

“Oh my gosh. Do you think that could be the shop that inspired French Kiss?” she asked.

“There's only one way to find out.”

The woman working behind the counter of the shop confirmed that it had indeed sold lingerie at one time. She pulled out a picture that was almost identical to Michael's painting. Olivia was thrilled and took numerous pictures of the shop.

“It's just like fate wanted us to find it,” she said as she stood in front clicking her phone camera.

Deacon waited for her to finish before he took her hand and led her away from the quaint shop. “Yes,” he said. “It must be fate.”

D
eacon stared out the French doors of the hotel suite at the Eiffel Tower spearing the predawn sky, and he had to wonder if fate didn't play a much bigger role in life than people thought. Too many twists and turns had taken place for Deacon's life to all be accidental. Michael and his mother meeting here. Michael getting her pregnant. And finally, Deacon becoming partial owner and ending up right back where it had all started.

Olivia thought he'd brought her here to make her happy. And part of him had, but the other part was purely selfish. For him, coming here had been a way to cleanse away the past and move on. But after only a day, he realized that the past was as much a part of you as the present. Everywhere they went he couldn't help thinking about his mom. Had she been as excited as Olivia to be in the city? Had her eyes lit up when she saw the Eiffel Tower for the first time? Had she gasped with amazement when she walked into the Louvre? Had she giggled with sheer happiness as she sat at the café and grown excited when she noticed the quaint little lingerie shop across the street?

The lingerie shop had been in more than one of his mother's photographs. And Deacon had to wonder if she had been the one to bring Michael's attention to the shop that had inspired his multi-billion-dollar company. It seemed likely. His mother had loved pretty things and would've enjoyed browsing through the frilly undergarments.

Thinking of pretty things, Deacon glanced down at Olivia, who slept next to him with one arm and leg sprawled over him possessively. The sight sent a wave of contentment washing over him. No, it was more than contentment. It was something deeper. He felt like he had finally come home. Not to a run-down shack on the Louisiana bayou. Or a trendy condo by a crystal-clear lake. Or a multimillion-dollar mansion on the California coast. His home had become a petite, easily distracted blonde with a pair of green eyes that melted his heart.

He hadn't felt this happy since before his mother died, and he was in no hurry to get back to French Kiss. Or his brothers. Or his country. If Olivia wanted to stay in Paris for the rest of their lives, he would gladly do it for just one of her smiles.

That night on the balcony, he hadn't been ready to echo her words of love. He was now. But he could wait until she was wide awake. Brushing a kiss on the top of her head, he smiled and closed his eyes. He had almost drifted off to sleep when his cell phone rang. He would've ignored it if he hadn't been worried about waking Olivia. She was clearly exhausted and needed the sleep. Carefully removing her arm and leg, he rolled toward the nightstand and answered in a whisper.

“Hello.”

“Let me guess,” Nash said, “you decided to do the photo shoot of your collection at the library.”

“Real funny. Actually I'm in Paris.”

There was a slight pause. “Then you'd better get your ass on the plane ASAP 'cause we've got problems.”

The tone of his brother's voice had him quickly sitting up on the side of the bed. Olivia moaned and rolled over, her hand brushing his back.

“Mmm, Deacon,” she said in a sleepy voice.

He got up and tucked the blanket around her. “I'm right here, my love. Go back to sleep.” She sighed contentedly before snuggling down into the pillow. He waited until he was in the sitting room before continuing the conversation.

“What kind of problems?”

“You're starting to piss me off, Deacon,” Nash said. “‘My love'? You're calling Olivia your love?”

“And what's that to you, Nash?”

“A few weeks ago, I would've said nothing. But I've gotten to know our cousin, and I like her, Deacon. I like her a lot. She's like this wide-eyed kid who needs a keeper.” The accurate description made Deacon smile as Nash continued. “And I don't want to see her get hurt.”

“I don't want to see that either.”

“Then you need to end your relationship now.” Nash paused. “Look, I get that you and Olivia are sexually attracted to each other. But don't make it more than that, Deke. Don't make her fall in love with you. Because if you break her heart, I'm going to have to break your face.”

Deacon walked to the windows and looked out. Fog had settled, shrouding the lattice iron of the Eiffel Tower like fresh-spun cotton candy. “What if she breaks my heart?”

There was a long pause before Nash spoke. “Are you saying you're falling in love with her? Because if you are, then you need a reality check. Whether it's conscious or subconscious, your infatuation with Olivia has to do with your preoccupation with her stepfather. That's all, Deacon. And if you don't cut it off now, things are not going to end well.”

At one time he would've agreed with Nash. But not now. For the first time in his life, he was thinking clearly. He wasn't falling in love with Olivia. He loved her. He loved that she was the worst boss ever, and the best designer. He loved the way she looked in a suit and heels and the way she looked in nothing at all. He loved to make her smile and to watch her eyes light up. He loved how she zoned out, but could focus when it counted. He loved everything about her.

“You're wrong, Nash, but I'm not going to get into it right now. Right now I want to know why you called me. Did you find out who was skimming money?”

“As a matter of fact, we did. I put a trace on Parker's computer and discovered the account where the money is going.”

“Parker's personal account, no doubt.”

“Actually, no. It was going into a Elsa Sanchez's account in Mexico.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“French Kiss's office cleaning lady.”

Deacon adjusted the phone to his ear. “The one we scared the other night?”

“The same. It seems she didn't empty the trash as much as go through it for passcodes.”

Deacon shook his head. “Well, that's surprising. Did she mention anything about Anastasia?”

“No, but we turned it over to the feds and they plan on questioning her about it.”

“Good job, Nash. And now, since it's five o'clock in the morning here, I'd like to go back to sleep.” But before Deacon could hang up, Nash stopped him.

“Sorry, big brother, but that's not the only news I have for you. There seems to be a problem with Michael's will.”

Deacon released his breath. “Look, we've talked about this before, Nash. You're going to get your money. It just won't be in one lump sum.”

“I'm fine with not getting a lump sum. But now it looks like we won't even be getting a small trickle.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Uncle Michael's will has been contested.”

“Contested? Who would contest it?” He glanced back at the bedroom. “Olivia?”

“No. His illegitimate child.”

The words were like a one-two punch in the face. It took Deacon a moment to find his voice. “What illegitimate child?”

“We don't know. The only way we found out about it was through a friend of Jason's. I guess the guy works for some big-time lawyer here in San Francisco. He wouldn't go into detail because I think he knew he was pushing the ethics thing, but he wanted Jason to have the heads-up that Michael's illegitimate kid is going to try to get a piece of the pie.”

“A piece or all of it?”

“I don't know. But either way, it can't be good.”

“Deacon?”

He turned to see Olivia standing in the doorway. She had tossed on one of his shirts, but left it unbuttoned. And as she walked toward him, the edges played peekaboo with soft breasts, a flat stomach, and a strip of golden hair.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Just the sight of her calmed him, and he smiled as he spoke to Nash. “We'll head back as soon as possible. Until then, try to get as much information as you can.” He hung up the phone and placed it on a nearby table. Before he had even turned around, Olivia was in his arms. She held him like she never wanted to let go, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist and her head pressed against his heart.

“I woke, and you were gone.”

“I'm sorry.” He kissed the top of her head. “Nash called, and I didn't want to wake you.”

She peeked up at him. “So it sounds like the vacation is over.”

He should've told her then about Nash's phone call and what it could mean to the company, but he couldn't stand the thought of ruining her dream vacation. There would be plenty of time to tell her on the return trip.

Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her back to the bedroom. “Not yet, it isn't.”

Deacon planned to tell Olivia about the will contest on the flight home, but one thing led to another and they spent the majority of the flight in the bedroom—not just making love, but going over the pictures of their trip and looking at Olivia's new ideas for designs. She seemed so happy that he couldn't burst her bubble. Besides, there was a good chance that Jason's friend had gotten misinformation. And until Deacon had all the details, he decided it was best he keep Olivia in the dark so she wouldn't worry.

Due to the time difference, it was only late afternoon when they landed in San Francisco. They were both jet-lagged, but Deacon knew he couldn't sleep until he'd talked with his brothers. So he dropped Olivia off at her house before heading to French Kiss.

As soon as he arrived at his office, Kelly greeted him at the elevator with a cup of coffee. He sent her a curious look.

“Thank you, but how did you know I was here?”

“I told Denny the security guard to keep a watch out and let me know when you arrived. I figured you'd be jet-lagged and need a little pick-me-up. But don't get used to it. I'm not a waitress.” She led the way down the hallway. “Your brothers are waiting in your office with Jason.” She glanced at him and blushed. “I mean Mr. Melvin.”

He took a sip of coffee and sighed. “So I'm going to assume that you and Jason are getting along better.”

Her blush got even brighter. “I guess you could assume that. Is that okay?”

Deacon bit back a smile. “I don't mind interoffice relationships as long as it doesn't interfere with work. In other words, I don't want you two acting like a couple of horny teenagers.”

“Why, Mr. Beaumont,” she said, “I thought we weren't supposed to use words like
horny
at work.” She stopped at the door of his office. “But if it puts your mind at ease, we won't be boinking each other on the desk. Jason isn't into sex as much as sports. He says he won't have sex with me until he sees how I do during football season.” She pushed open the door.

His brothers and Jason all looked as tired as he felt. Obviously they had been up all night. Nash slumped in the chair behind the desk with his eyes closed. Grayson sat on the couch, his hair mussed and his eyes red-rimmed as he drew on his sketchpad. And Jason paced in front of the large windows, his tie pulled loose and his top button undone. He was talking on the phone and merely glanced up when Deacon entered, before moving into one corner and going back to his conversation.

As soon as Kelly closed the door, Deacon started firing off questions. “So did you get a name?”

Nash dropped his feet off the desk and slowly got up. “I'm afraid not. Jason's friend got a bad case of ethics and clammed up. But the lawyers at his office just called Jason, so we should have news soon.”

They both looked at Jason, who didn't appear to be too happy with his conversation. He kept running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. For once he didn't have a stain on his shirt or his tie. Deacon couldn't help but wonder if Kelly was somehow responsible.

Jason hung up his cell phone. “It's confirmed. Thomas, Bentley, and Thomas have been hired to contest Michael Beaumont's will. They filed the contest this morning and would like to meet with you, your brothers, and your lawyers tomorrow morning to discuss settling out of court.”

“And their client.”

“All Matthew Thomas would say was that the mother is the one who hired them and she has clout, but all it will take is me calling the courthouse to find out. Once the contest is filed, the information is public.”

Deacon nodded. “So what does this mean for the company?”

Jason moved over to the chair in front of the desk and sat down. “That will depend on how legitimate their client's claim is and what the client wants. If Thomas, Bentley, and Thomas are willing to take it on, there must be some pretty good proof. And if that's the case, and it turns out that Michael has a child, the kid could ask for controlling shares of the company. After all, you're only nephews, while he's directly related.”

Deacon exchanged looks with his brothers while Jason lifted his phone and dialed. “Let me see what I can get from the courthouse clerk.”

While Jason was trying to get information, Deacon walked to the windows. It surprised him how comforting the view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the bay was. His brothers soon joined him, Grayson on one side and Nash on the other.

“What are we going to do if it is Michael's kid?” Grayson asked. “I mean, if it is, doesn't he deserve to own the company?”

Deacon turned on him. “And what about Olivia? She's worked her ass off for this company. She doesn't deserve to lose it to someone who doesn't even know a bustier from a corset.”

There was a slight pause before Nash burst out laughing. Deacon scowled at him. “What's so damned funny?”

Nash sobered, but a grin still creased his face. “I guess I was wrong, big brother. I guess you can fall in love. Because only love would have you thinking of someone else when it came to billions of dollars.”

Grayson grinned. “He does have a point, Deke.”

Before Deacon could reply, Jason spoke. “I've got it.” He handed Deacon a piece of paper with a name written on it.