The Billionaire’s Secret
L. Steele
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
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Prologue
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I have a heart that never beats, I have a home but I never sleep. I can take a man's house and build another's, I love to play games with my many brothers. I am a king among fools. Who am I?
Answer: The King of Hearts in a deck of cards
Victoria
"Will he or won't he?"
I turn to the man playing the role of my husband, "Who are you talking about?" I ask.
"Saint," He replies.
"Who?"
"The man glowering at you from across the garden." Adam swipes a finger under his collar, "I wonder if he'll approach you before the night is over?"
I angle my body, but he shakes his head, "Don't look there."
Right. I swallow. "Is that good?"
"It's perfect." he reassures me. "Things are on plan."
This is what I want, don't I? This is why I am here. So why is my heart pounding? Why is my stomach tying itself in knots? A trickle of sweat runs down my spine.
"Act natural." He half smiles.
I swallow, tip up my chin. I can do this.
"Come, dear, meet your stepdaughter," he beckons.
I step forward, and my heels sink into the lawns attached to the beautiful town house located in prime real estate in the heart of London. I smooth my palm down the golden brown dress that comes to below my knees. Good thing I'd packed this dress near the top of my luggage; that had made it much easier to change before leaving the airport. Finding the shoes had been a different story. Our flight from LAX to London had been delayed, leaving no time to spare for a stop at our hotel.
The hair on the nape of my neck prickles. An electric shiver runs up my spine. I jerk my chin up.
Blue eyes blaze at me—cerulean, cold, never-ending whorls of cornflowers in summer time, the dark depths of a lake before the water freezes over. How could so many facets be intertwined with his gaze? I swallow, sweat beads my palm.
The words from Happiness is a Warm Gun, by the Beatles scroll across my mind. Heat flushes my cheeks. I have a penchant for the Beatles, but why the hell did I have to think of that particular song?
Saint glances from me to my 'husband.' His jaw tics. Anger rolls off of him, a thick black cloud that slams into my chest, sinks into my blood, hooks into me and seems to yank me toward him. Closer, get closer. I gasp and my fingers tremble.
Saint's gaze intensifies and a shiver crawls up my spine. My toes curl. Why am I so affected by his presence?
Adam nudges me.
I blink; tear my gaze away from the stranger. "Summer." I hold my hand out to my stepdaughter. "It's lovely to meet you."
She's beautiful in her wedding dress. At twenty-one, she is a year younger than me. And she has already found the man of her dreams. Me? I am taking it one day at a time. I am trying to survive. I clutch my handbag to my side.
Summer swallows. "I didn’t realize…"
"That you had a stepmother?" I ask.
“...that I had a father.” She glances at the man she is meeting after fifteen years.
Adam shuffles his feet, "I was hoping you two could get acquainted," he mumbles.
Across from me, Saint widens his stance; his hands are clenched at his sides. Huh? Is he upset about something?
"I didn’t mean for this to come as such a surprise." I force myself to focus on Summer, " I wish there had been a way I could have warned you of our coming…but..."
Summer nods, "You don’t need to apologize." Her eyes narrow, "I understand how it could have been."
I glance from Summer to her new husband, Sinclair Sterling who hovers protectively over her.
He and his six friends—often referred to as the Seven by the media—co-own 7A Investments. They are among the richest, most powerful men in the country... Saint is one of them. Why the hell can't I stop thinking of him?
I clear my throat, "Perhaps, we can catch up once you are recovered from your wedding and the honeymoon—"
"There is no honeymoon," Sinclair interjects.
Summer’s body tenses again.
Strange. His words are brusque. Yet he hasn't been able to look away from her, his body leaning into hers. Funny how body language conveys so much more than words.
Like the man who hasn't glanced away from me since our eyes first met. Goosebumps pop on my skin.
"Not until we’ve sorted out the little business between us." Sinclair nods toward Adam, "Tomorrow." He steps around us and walks off, guiding Summer along.
"I won't be more than a minute." Adam strides toward a group of men in a corner of the garden. I glance after him, wanting to ask him not to leave me alone with Saint.
Too late. He prowls closer, "Victoria, is it?"
Black coffee, crushed ice, hot chocolate sauce—the timbre of his voice coils about my waist, slithers down to the hollow between my legs. My toes curl.
I clench my thighs together.
That voice? What I wouldn't give to have him read aloud from a Harry Potter novel. Oh, my god, did I think that? Why is he insinuating himself into my every obsession? I shuffle my feet.
He tilts his head, looks me up and down. Those blue eyes pale until they resemble chips of ice. My heart begins to race.
This man? He'd not take ‘no’ for an answer. Never turn down a challenge.
His lips curl and he widens his stance.
The movement
