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  The Construction Worker & the Billionaire:

  Swapping Lives

  Book 9

  Sierra Rose

  Copyright 2016 Sierra Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  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 1

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to honor the memory of Evelyn Louise Parker. Born in the dustbowl of Oklahoma on November 22nd 1972, Evelyn spent most of her young life on her family’s ranch...”

  Logan squinted at the coffin, his eyes safely hidden behind a pair of designer shades. It was a hot day. Much hotter than he’d anticipated. But then again, he didn’t have much of an idea what to anticipate. He had never been to Detroit. He’d never even been to Michigan. At least, that’s what he’d believed up until a few days ago.

  “...cherished by all those who knew her, Evelyn Louise was a beloved mother, daughter, and friend...”

  A trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck, and Logan shifted uncomfortably in his suit. He was the only person at the tiny cemetery who was wearing one. A fact that made him stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone else was in their best approximation of Sunday finery. Skirts. Slacks. Loafers. There was enough polyester to cover a city block. The sunglasses didn’t help. Neither did the ten-thousand-dollar watch. At this point, he could only be glad that he’d asked his driver to park the limo around the corner—where it wouldn’t draw attention.

  Not that it really mattered. He had never seen any of these people before in his life, and there was little likelihood he would see them again. He’d never been to this city, never set foot in this tiny cemetery. He didn’t know the woman they were burying in the ground.

  Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing there.

  He didn’t owe allegiance to this woman. He hadn’t been obligated to get on a plane and fly halfway across the country to attend her funeral. He hadn’t even heard the name Evelyn Louise Parker until a few days ago when his secretary had placed a sealed file on his desk.

  He’d been hard at work when it happened. Elbow deep in a conference call that spanned across three different continents, as he tried to finalize a construction deal that would allow him to build a luxury resort in both Barcelona and Guam. He didn’t recognize the writing scrawled across the manila envelope, and such things were rarely written by hand. It was rarer still that a package from an unknown source would wind up on his desk. When he flashed a questioning look at his secretary, she had shrugged apologetically and pointed to the notarized stamp in the upper left-hand corner. ‘Wayne County Coroner’s Office.’ His eyebrows lifted slowly as the phone came down away from his ear.

  Yeah—he would have put it on his desk too.

  He got off the phone quickly, dismissed Annalise on the day’s eighth coffee run, and proceeded to read about the death of his birth mother. A woman he’d never met. A woman he had no real interest in, until discovering that she had suddenly passed away.

  “...a hard woman, who led a hard life,” the minister continued in a grave voice. “But a pure joy to those who knew her. Her work at the local food bank touched hundreds of lives...”

  When the coffee came back, he’d ignored it and opted for something stronger. Reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk to pull out a bottle of scotch. The first glass was to get over the shock. The second glass was to steady his hands as he opened the dossier and began slowly reading through the trials and tribulations of Evelyn Louise Parker.

  There wasn’t much to tell. She was born in a small town, moved to a bigger town, got pregnant young, and had proceeded to hold a series of meaningless jobs until finally succumbing to cancer at the age of forty-four. The woman had abandoned him at birth, gave him away to strangers. What kind of mother would do that? He sighed. She must’ve had her reasons.

  Then a single sentence changed his world. A sentence that changed everything. One that Logan heard the minister repeating as the final flowers were laid upon the casket.

  “Evelyn is survived by her two sons, Logan and Dylan.”

  Two sons. Not one, but two. Logan had a brother.

  “Some of you don’t know that she gave birth to two boys and gave them up for adoption,” said the minister. “She hid it well for years. But before she died, she wanted them acknowledged here today. She loved her sons and hoped one day to meet them.”

  Logan swallowed hard.

  Tears welled up in his eyes when they lowered her into the ground. When his own parents had died, taken in a car crash when he was seventeen, he’d been inconsolable. He crossed himself, as this was a Catholic neighborhood, and went back to the car. Before anyone could spot him and ask for his name. Before any devoted family and friends of Evelyn Louise Parker could discover that one of her sons had come home.

  “How was it, sir?” Jerry Holbert, Logan’s personal driver, quickly lowered his newspaper and went around to the back of the limo to open the door. “Looked like a beautiful service.”

  Logan glanced back at the ceremony, then shrugged out of his suit jacket—quickly exchanging it with the one Jerry was holding in his hand. When he’d seen the overall attire of the other attendees, he’d forced the poor man to trade with him. Not that it mattered in this neck of the woods. These people didn’t care about labels. A suit was a suit.

  “Yes, it was a beautiful service,” Logan said.

  Without another word, the two of them piled into the limo. The windows rolled up, the air-conditioning blasted on, and a bottle of Dom Perignon was chilling in the corner. Logan poured himself a glass, rubbing his finger in a slow circle across the rim as the engine revved up and they pulled slowly away from the curb.

  “Back to the airstrip, sir?”

  Logan started nodding, then stopped himself all at once. Without his permission, his eyes flickered back to the cemetery. He could just see the top of the casket from where he sat. The gleam of the varnished wood as his only biological parent was lowered into the ground.

  “You know what...not quite yet.” He finished the champagne in just three gulps, setting his eyes on the horizon. “We have one more stop to make.”

  Chapter 2

  Logan called his cousin, Nicholas Hunter, for advice.


  “Yes, I think you should find your brother. And I’m so sorry about your mother.”

  “We can’t control what life throws at us. I’m just glad she’s at peace. They said she lived a hard life.”

  “Man, I’m so sorry. Give me a day, and I’ll meet you. You don’t have to do this alone. You know I’m there for you. Always.”

  “It’s okay, Nick. I know it’s Abby’s birthday, and I know you’re flying her and that darling daughter of yours to Hawaii. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I can call James.”

  “No. Please. It’s okay.”

  “Okay, but I’m only a phone call away, cous. And remember. Don’t let the press get a whiff. Or they’ll be all over you. It’s the curse of our famous family.”

  “There only after you because you, James, and Charlie all settled down. And the others are married. I’m all that’s left.”

  “We’re boring news now.”

  “But I was never the crazy playboy, like you guys.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re my cousin. You have the movie star good looks. You’re the youngest self-made billionaire, and just happen to be number one on America’s list of most eligible bachelors. You took my spot, you son of a bitch.”

  They both laughed.

  They talked a little while before they finally hung up.

  THE WAYNE COUNTY ADOPTION agency was a depressing place. Filled with cheap carpeting, faded wall art, and enough listless people to effectively cast a Zoloft commercial. Logan paused in the doorway, his eyes flickering from the row of people in line at the broken water cooler, to the even longer line waiting in front of the reception counter.

  “Shall I pull the fire alarm?” This time, Jerry had come along. When he wasn’t driving, he functioned as an unofficial bodyguard, and despite his employer’s insistence that he would be just fine, the man obviously had a deep-seeded mistrust of the working class. “It would clear away that line pretty damn fast.”

  “Along with the people working behind the counter,” Logan reasoned, trying his best to blend in with the crowd. “Get the hell out of here, Jerry. You look like you wandered off the set of the Matrix. You’re blowing my cover.”

  It was true. Despite living on the beaches of Florida, Jerry took his job of ‘billionaire enforcer’ very seriously. Black trench coat. Black clothes. Black shoes. Black shades. All designer. All the time. Regardless of the scorching Miami weather.

  “One might argue your cover was blown when you walked in looking like you wandered off the pages of GQ,” Jerry countered calmly.

  Logan rolled his eyes and took his place at the back of the line, resigned to wait. If he was being perfectly honest, a part of him was rather tickled with the notion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been forced to wait for anything. Then there was the fact that no one in the dilapidated building seemed to recognize him. Which never, never happened.

  “As the man who signs your paychecks, I’m commanding you to go back to the car.” He straightened up to his full height, a not insignificant six foot one. “I’ll be fine.”

  His driver shot him a look, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not in a million fucking years,’ then proceeded to take a seat on one of the faded sofas in the corner. One with a clear view of the window, so he could watch out for people trying to break into the limo.

  His employer might have been one of the most powerful men in the western hemisphere, but over the years, the two had developed a rather unique dynamic. One in which Logan could threaten, and rant, and rave all he wanted—but Jerry was still going to do anything he deemed necessary to keep the man safe. Termination notices be damned.

  With nothing left to do, Logan proceeded to wait. And wait. And wait.

  If only my friends could see me here, he thought with a dry smile. What would they think?

  Probably that he was trying to bolster up his already pristine public image. Adopt a child from the projects on some kind of humanitarian whim. In the upper echelons of society, kids were like handbags. They were used as an accessory only when going out to attend public functions, and even then, only when they matched. If the Miami elite saw Logan Chase fly back home with a baby, it would only be a matter of time before the rest of them got one too. Posing the child for selfies by the pool. Pushing the child in a custom stroller along the promenade.

  “Next!”

  Logan moved up another place in line, eyeing the fifteen people in front of him. The hands on the clock moved at a cartoonishly palsied pace, and he was just considering his bodyguard’s fire alarm idea, when someone tugged on the sleeve of his coat. He glanced over his shoulder to see what had to be the most terrifying woman in the world staring back at him.

  Neon blue eyeshadow. Hot pink lips. Bushy black eyebrows. And enough piercings to melt down into a decent-sized car. Logan took a second to collect himself before flashing a polite smile.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re him, aren’t you?” She didn’t mince words and didn’t bother lowering her voice as she showered him with a spray of spit. “You’re that guy.”

  He pulled in a quick breath, but didn’t let his frustration show on his face. That guy. He hated it when people came up to him like that. Not caring whether he was busy. Not bothering to remember his name. He was just that guy. A celebrity spectacle used as public entertainment.

  “I think you have me mixed up with someone else,” he answered quietly, wishing like hell he was still wearing the sunglasses to cover his eyes.

  The woman smacked on her gun, leaning forward to get a better look. “No, you’re definitely him. From Florida, right? Heir to some kind of resort company?”

  Another thing Logan despised. The fact that because he was young, people assumed he had inherited the company he had worked so hard to build. Assumed that his billion-dollar reputation for corporate excellence had to have come from his father.

  “Nope,” he answered with strained patience. “Not me.”

  The woman guffawed, spraying him with another wave of spit. “It totally is. I recognize your picture from one of those shows—most eligible bachelors in the world.” Without bothering to ask, she whipped out her phone, grabbed him by the sleeve, and yanked him closer to take a picture. If it weren’t for the fast-hands of his bodyguard, she might have even been successful.

  “Excuse me, miss?” Jerry angled himself discreetly in between them, looking down at her with apparent concern. “Is that your red Mazda outside?”

  She eyed him warily, upset to have been disturbed. “Yeah—why?”

  His face tightened with false sympathy. “I’m afraid it’s getting towed.”

  “What?!”

  Without another word, she was off like a shot—moving with unnatural speed for a woman of her size. Ranting against ‘handicapped parking’ how it wasn’t fair that not everyone was allowed to park so close to the door.

  Logan let out a breath, watching nervously as the people around him slowly lost interest and turned back around. The last thing he wanted was for a selfie of him in a Detroit adoption agency to surface on the internet. “Close one,” he amended, looking at his driver with sudden suspicion. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” Jerry replied innocently, gesturing to the counter. “Line’s moving, sir.”

  Quicker than seemed possible, the line moved forward and Logan found himself standing in front of the registration counter. Face to face with quite possibly the only woman he’d ever encountered who was completely immune to his charms.

  “Hi, Belinda. How’s your day going?”

  She glared up at him from her perch upon the chair. Like a toad surveying a particularly dislikable fly. “Listen, pretty boy—I got no time for quips or small talk. If you have a question, then speak your peace. If you don’t—next!”

  Logan glanced over his shoulder quickly as the man behind him tried to step forward, forcing him back with a defensive hand as he hurried to stake his claim. “No—wait, I have a question. It
’s about an adoption that happened twenty-five years ago through this office. Two boys, separate families. The mother’s name was Evelyn Louise Parker.”

  The woman glared at him for another second, before turning that glare to her computer instead as her monitor sprang to life. The blue glow reflected off the rims of her glasses as her stubby fingers flew over the keys. A second later, they came to an abrupt stop.

  “That was a closed adoption. Public records are not available. Next.”

  “Wait!” Logan pushed the man back again, clinging to the counter with his other hand. “A closed adoption is only sealed as long as both biological parents are alive, right? Evelyn Parker died four days ago. The funeral was this morning.” Her eyes narrowed, as if he might be pulling her leg, and he raised his hands into the air. “Look it up if you don’t believe me.”

  She didn’t look it up. She looked at him instead. Eyes flickering over the expensive watch and tailored suit, before soaking in the details of his handsome face. Several long seconds went by, before she deigned to speak again.

  “Why are you so interested in this adoption, anyway? You’re too tan to be from Detroit, and Evelyn Parker didn’t exactly run in your...circle.”

  Logan opened his mouth to answer, then dropped his eyes down to the floor. She’d hit the nail right on the head. Why was he so interested in this adoption? It was a question he’d been asking himself for the last four days. One he’d been unable to fully answer.

  Finally, before the man waiting behind him could steal his place for good, he pulled in a deep breath and looked her square in those beady little eyes.

  “I’m one of her sons,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know I had a brother.”

  For the first time since he’d laid eyes on her, Belinda’s ferocious mask softened. Just a hair. But it was a hair more than he’d thought possible. It was also enough to do the trick.

  With a long-suffering sigh, she clicked a few more buttons and rammed a new stack of paper into the printer. “So...you want to learn all about your dead mom, huh?”