The TROUBLE with BILLIONAIRES: Book 2 (11 page)

“You think Aurora worked with corporate spies to hurt Cepheus?” He shook his head vigorously, his uncombed hair swishing around his head quite erotically. “Aurora would never hurt Cepheus.”

“But what if she didn’t know what she was doing? What if they confused her and made her think they were up to something a little less damaging?”

“Like what?”

I didn’t know. I tried to think of all the things that I had heard Einstein mention recently, or things I had seen in the office that might suggest an answer. But I really didn’t see much of the paperwork. My job was centered mostly on answering the phones and keeping Einstein moving from meeting to meeting. And then I remembered a weird email that had ended up in my mailbox that I was pretty sure she had meant to send to someone else.

“What about a reporter? What if they approached her, pretending to be a reporter from some scientific journal? She sent a reply to an email to my email address by mistake once, a request for an interview from some magazine…
Science Quarterly,
or something like that. It was full of enthusiasm, like a starlet who’d just gotten her first fan letter.”

Conrad pushed the comforter out of the way and moved up closer to me, sliding his hands around my hips and tugging at my bare ass.

“You make it awfully hard for me to concentrate.”

“Conrad…”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll look into it and see if I can find anything. But I don’t think Aurora’s symptoms have gotten so bad that she wouldn’t see right through a ruse like that.”

“I hope not. But if it is her, don’t we have a responsibility to do something about it?”

“We?” He cocked an eyebrow, a soft smile slipping across his lips. “We’re a ‘we’ now?”

“After all the orgasms I let you give me tonight, I think we can say that.”

“Let me? You let me?”

“Yeah,” I said, sliding up into his lap. “And if you’re a good boy, I might let you do it one more time before we go to sleep.”

“Again with that sleep nonsense,” he groaned against my throat, as he began to pepper it with soft kisses. “Who said anything about sleep?”

I had barely settled at my desk the next morning when Russell rushed past with an armful of files.

“Glad to see you came to your senses,” he said. “Make sure you don’t have any more unexplained absences.”

“Yes, boss.”

He shook his head, but I didn’t miss the flash of pride that washed across his face as he disappeared around the corner.

The second he was gone, I slipped into Aurora’s office and approached her desk. She had her office arranged in something of a horseshoe. Her desk was in the middle with two smaller sides on the right and one on the left—workstations for her assistants. Only one of the smaller desks was occupied at the moment—Russell’s. While Madison was still technically Aurora’s assistant until a replacement could be found, she hadn’t been to work since the 3D telescope launch party and probably wouldn’t be. She had been promoted to Rawn’s assistant since his own assistant quit after learning she was pregnant.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Russell hadn’t returned, then moved around Aurora’s desk to search its drawers for anything of interest. There were a lot of Post-It notes, including a few more with that terse little warning about Conrad. I wondered if he knew about these. Most of the others were notes on the 3D telescope and other projects that were currently at various stages of production. There were also a couple of notes about grocery shopping. And one that reminded Aurora to tell Madison to bring her laptop to work on her first day—a message I was pretty sure she’d never received because she’d ended up borrowing Rawn’s former assistant’s laptop.

There was nothing else in the drawers of interest, just pens and pencils, a couple of legal pads, and a manicure set that was still wrapped in its manufacturer’s packaging. I don’t know what I had hoped to find—a smoking gun?—but it wasn’t there. I was about to open the top drawer of her filing cabinet when Russell’s voice suddenly demanded, “What the hell are you doing?”

I turned a little too quickly, my head spinning in response, and forced a smile that I was afraid came off a little too awkwardly. Russell was standing in the doorway with a tall, dark-haired woman beside him. A woman who looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite figure out why.

“I was looking for Madison’s phone charger,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “We have the same phone, and I forgot mine at home this morning. She told me she keeps a spare in the office, but I can’t find it.”

“Madison’s stuff is in her desk,” Russell said, pointing to one of the sad, empty-looking desks to the right of Aurora’s. “You might try looking there.”

“I did, but it wasn’t there. I thought that maybe Aurora picked it up thinking it was hers?”

A dark, sinister look briefly crossed Russell’s studious features. “Maybe.”

I slid my phone back into my pocket and turned back to the filing cabinet, peeking in the first, then the second of the two drawers. However, I found nothing but files…ironically enough. When I turned back around, Russell was showing the stranger to the desk beside Madison’s.

“This will be your desk. You’ll basically be assisting me with most of the day to day operations of the office.” He seemed to feel my gaze because he waved in my general direction and said, “This is Mellissa. She’s Aurora’s receptionist…whenever she bothers to come in to work.”

“Janet,” the woman said, politely holding out her hand to me.

As I took it, I suddenly remembered where I had seen her before. She was the potential assistant whose file Russell had shown me Friday morning before Annie’s phone call set off the crazy chain of events that turned my life upside down this weekend. The one who struck me as sinister and whom I advised him not to hire.

Of course, she was the one he chose.

“Nice to meet you,” I said—damn that good southern upbringing—before letting go of her hand as quickly as politeness allowed.

And then I left the room, goose bumps breaking out along my arms as I did. There was something not right about that woman.

***

“These are the top three.”

I picked up the brochures Richard shoved across the diner’s table at me. Assisted living centers. It made me sick that I was even considering this.

“Maybe she could survive another trip. Maybe, if the government had a couple of good doctors check her out before and after—”

“I’ve already talked to her doctors, Mellissa. They say that her heart just isn’t up to it.”

I pressed a finger against the front of one of the brochures, blocking the smiling face of some elderly patient who was staring at me, almost like he was mocking me.

“She wouldn’t like being placed in one these places. She always said she would rather die than live in an old folks’ home.”

“These are a little different than that. She’ll have her own room, her own space, and she’ll be able to set her own schedule.”

“What about her shows? Will they let her watch television?”

“There’s a television in each of the rooms.”

“You thought of everything.”

“That’s kind of in my job description.” Richard reached across the table and took my hand. “I know you’re scared, Mellissa, but we both knew this day might come.”

I looked at him, angry with myself that my vision was blurred by unshed tears. “Haven’t we lost enough already? Do you really expect me to be okay with abandoning my grandmother and letting her die alone in some nursing home?”

“She won’t be alone. I promise you that.”

There was a softness to his tone that I knew was sincere. But it didn’t take away the feeling that I’d been punched in the gut. I pulled my hand from his and fled the booth, rushing to the women’s room tucked into a back corner of the diner.

“Get a grip,” I told myself as I stood at the mirror, grasping the thick porcelain of the sink between my hands, staring into my own eyes. “Don’t do this.”

And then every bite of my breakfast—eaten just a few hours ago in this very diner—came up into the sink.

I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t walk away from the friends I’d made, the life I’d built. I couldn’t leave my home, my few, precious possessions. Conrad. How was I supposed to leave Conrad so soon after I found him? Hadn’t I always dreamed of finding my prince, my soulmate? Hadn’t I always dreamed of meeting a man who touched my soul when he looked in my eyes the way Conrad did? How could I leave him now, now when he was in the middle of this legal nightmare, struggling with protecting the woman he once loved?

And Memaw? The only thing that had made these moves, this uncertainty, bearable was the fact that she was always there, at my side. How could I leave her behind, knowing that I would never see her again?

I couldn’t.

But what choice did I have?

It was so unfair. I wanted to charge into the federal penitentiary in Pollock and tell my uncle exactly what I thought of him. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be in this position. I could have graduated high school with all my friends, gone to Stanford like I had planned, gotten married, and had a few kids. I could have had the life I’d planned. Instead, I went to small universities in three different states, made and lost a dozen friends, dated a sporadic number of boys—none of whom seemed to matter enough to want to stick around. I could have had a life—instead of moving every few years, running from something that was never my story, never my problem.

But I knew that was unfair.

My uncle was in a tough spot. Who’s to say I might not have done the same thing he did? There’s not a person alive who wouldn’t jump at the chance for free money and an easy answer to an unsurmountable problem.

It was unfair that a hurricane took away all my uncle had worked for and unfair that he couldn’t find enough work to pay for my private school.

It was unfair that my parents died and left me on his doorstep, a confirmed bachelor who never wanted a kid.

It was all unfair.

I took a deep breath and washed my face, rinsing the bile from my mouth.

“Grow up, missy,” I told myself. “No more pouting.”

I walked back out to the booth where Richard continued to patiently wait for me. I could almost make myself believe he’d been waiting there since I ran out of the diner the morning before, waiting patiently for me to pull myself together. His eyes were weary, as he watched me resume my place across from him, but then he allowed himself a small, tight smile when I picked up the brochures.

“Which one would you recommend?”

He tapped his finger on the top edge of the one with the smiling man on the cover. “This one has a pool and a new activities director who believes seniors should be encouraged to socialize as much as possible, so she throws a lot of ice cream socials.”

I nodded slowly. “Memaw would probably like that.”

***

Madison

“They arrested Conrad yesterday.”

My heart skipped a beat, as I pushed the bathroom door closed and perched on the edge of the toilet. “Really?”

“But they released him a couple of hours later. The cops took my statement, but they said they didn’t think they had enough to charge him.”

“Did you tell them about the sticky note?”

“Of course,” Rawn said, his voice like velvet in my ear. “That’s why they arrested him. But it’s not enough.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“Have you been able to identify the voice you heard? The one you said was familiar?”

It was all I thought about, but the man—whoever it was—spoke in a low whisper, and I couldn’t figure out why it sounded familiar. Was it really was someone I knew, or was just my mind playing tricks on me?

“I’m trying.”

“I know.” Rawn sighed. “I miss you. I wish you were here.”

“Are you still flying out to California to have Thanksgiving with your parents?”

“Yeah. My mom would be disappointed if I didn’t. She does the holidays up big every year.”

“Mine, too.”

“I’d take you with me, but—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Then why do I feel like I do?”

“Because you love me,” I said, a little bit of a teasing note to my voice.

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe?”

He laughed, the sound like the most potent medicine known to man. My heart rose up and seemed to float even as this funny pressure started in my center, making me ache for his touch, his kiss.

How could I miss someone I had only known for a few months this intensely?

It almost scared me how much I wanted to be near him.

***

Mellissa

“How are you feeling, Memaw?”

She raised a thin, veiny hand in a gesture of nonchalance. “As well as an old woman can feel.”

It was her stock answer, but one that made me smile. Same old Memaw.

I crawled into bed beside her in need of a little comfort. It wasn’t a gray day, but it had been a long one. After my lunch with Richard, I went back to the office just in time for someone to open the flood gates on the phone. It rang every two seconds, everyone demanding to speak to Aurora about one project of another. And that was on top of calls that were misdirected from other departments, calls from the lab—scientists wanting to speak to Aurora about their projects, past and present—a couple of calls from Rawn’s office wanting to know why Russell hadn’t sent up the memos on the new project yet…it was a nut house. And, on top of all that, Russell spent most of the day coddling the new assistant—I swear he had a crush on her—so I was stuck accepting deliveries and tracking down paperwork that he normally dealt with.

And, to top it all off, Conrad called five minutes before I was ready to rush out of the building and into his arms to let me know he was dealing with a crisis and wouldn’t be able to take me to dinner as we had planned the night before.

What a crap day!

I lay my head on Memaw’s shoulder and sighed.

“Have a bad day, pumpkin?” she asked.

“The worst.”

“Don’t say that.” She twisted slightly, pressing her hand against the side of my head. “Any day that didn’t end in a grave is a good day.”

I smiled. “Uncle Mike used to say that.”

A long sigh slipped from Memaw’s lips. “My Mikey,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately.”

We weren’t supposed to talk about him. The marshals stressed that dozens of times before they even began the process of moving us into the WITSEC program. If anyone overheard us discussing Uncle Mike, they would figure out who we were and our cover would be blown. We couldn’t even talk about him in private because it might cause us to slip and mention him in public.

But that was the one thing we never obeyed.

“They can take away my name, my home, and my friends, but they can’t take away what’s in my heart. Mikey and Dave are my heart.”

Dave was my father, my Uncle Mike’s older brother.

Memaw had lost one son. She wasn’t going to let some stupid rule allow her to lose another.

“Do you remember,” Memaw asked me now, “when you were about five and you fell off the swing at school?”