Heart of the Billionaire Page 3

  Finally, when the last man returned to his seat, James stepped forward with a dry smile. “I can’t tell you how much those words mean to me,” he bullshitted, and his voice took on a dangerous edge as his eyes flicked around the room. “It means even more to see you all here. That would have touched my father deeply, considering his feelings for you all.”

  Not good. Something’s coming.

  Like a child who couldn’t turn away from a train wreck, Robert was forced to ask, “What do you mean by that?”

  James glanced innocently around the table, somehow managing to hold everyone’s eyes at once. “Well, I can only assume you’re here to discuss a memorial, correct?”

  The room fell dead quiet.

  “A tribute?”

  More ringing silence ensued.

  “A funeral perhaps?” he said, and just like that, his innocent façade dropped, only to be replaced with a savage rage, a quiet fury that sent shivers racing down my spine and likely the spines of every man in the room. “After all, my father has yet to be laid in the ground.”

  A collective chill circled the table, and one by one, the most powerful men in Britain failed to meet his eyes.

  Robert darted his eyes around in a panic, like those of a deadbeat captain suddenly realizing he was standing on a sinking ship. Finally, he turned entreatingly to his brother. “James, of course those are...valid concerns, but we’re almost finished here. Why don’t you wait in my office, and then—”

  “Your office?” In a move so casual it almost looked like chance, James plopped himself down in the vacant chair at the head of the table. “I was under the impression that you were just keeping it warm.”

  Robert’s skin took on a greenish hue, and he found himself temporarily unable to speak.

  A second later, another man leaned forward to help. “That’s actually what we’re discussing now.”

  “I can see that.” Then, in a move so fast it defied logic, James snatched a document out of the hand of the man seated next to him, the only piece of paper that was floating around the table. He scanned the agenda briefly, his eyes skimming from line to line, then looked slowly up at his brother. “Unopposed? It says you’re running unopposed for Dad’s chair.”

  Twice, Robert opened his mouth to speak, and twice, he failed.

  “That makes it easier for you, doesn’t it?” James continued softly, his fingers playing with the edges of the paper as he stared his brother right in the eyes. “Running unopposed?” For a second, time seemed to stop, but then James leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Surely you remember what Dad always said. Nothing good in life comes easy.”

  Robert blinked, released from his speechless trance as James dropped the final piece upon the board. “What does that—”

  “I’m opposing you.”

  Oh my gosh!

  My mouth fell open in sheer amazement as he turned to face the board, suddenly looking every bit the man his late father was.

  “Consider this my official submission of my candidacy for CEO and president of Cross Enterprises. I think there are plenty of witnesses here.”

  “I MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE, didn’t I?”

  The reflection of the city lights flashed on James’s face as he pressed his forehead against the cab window, staring unblinkingly into the night. We had darted out into the street and left the office just a few minutes earlier, and those were the only words he had conjured up since.

  “It’s okay, honey. Just breathe.” I rubbed gentle circles on his back and flashed a look of panic up at the driver. “Are we almost there? How much farther?”

  The cabbie glanced back at us, apparently highly upset that he’d accidentally picked up two such volatile customers. “Not far, just up past this next traffic light.” His eyes narrowed as they fixed on James’s ashen face. “He’s not going to throw up in my cab, is he?”

  It’s a distinct possibility.

  “Just drive,” I commanded, then returned my attention to James. “Everything’s going to be all right, babe. We’ll figure this out together. I promise.”

  “Too late. I made a terrible mistake,” he repeated, still not pulling his head away from the window.

  Three minutes later, we were rushing through the crowd of paparazzi, into the lobby of James’s building. I’d had the sense of mind to text Nick and Abby to let them know we were coming, so they mindfully alerted security. We raced between the metal barriers, with a stranger’s jacket held protectively above our heads, and finally found the relative calm and safety of the main floor.

  In an instant, Ferdie appeared out of nowhere to guide us toward the back elevators. He needed only a second to assess James’s stricken expression before the wrinkles on his own face deepened in alarm. “What the blazes happened?!” he demanded, turning a disappointed look on me, as if he’d loaned out his prize possession and I’d returned it broken. “What did you do to him?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I replied quickly, struggling to keep pace as he swept James briskly into the lift and pressed the button for the top floor. “But James, on the other hand... Well, he kind of stormed into the boardroom and demanded to take over his father’s company,” I explained, and it sounded worse every time I said it aloud.

  Ferdie’s mouth was instantly agape in undignified shock.

  Meanwhile, James bent over at the waist and put his hands on his knees. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  It was thrilling to hear him conjure up a few new words, but no matter how thrilled I was, it paled in comparison to the delight that ignited Ferdie’s face as I stepped out of the way to project my shoes from any potential digestive projectiles.

  With his entire face aglow, a happiness that filled in every line, softening every dignified crease, Ferdie knelt down to lift James slowly to his feet. “James Lysander Cross, your father would be very proud of you this day.”

  The two locked eyes for a suspended moment as a profound emotion passed between them, one I was sure I would never understand. For a split second, the storm cloud barreling toward us came to a momentary pause, and a flicker of hope stirred in the troubled depths of James’s eyes.

  “Thanks, Ferdie,” he said, but as soon as the doors dinged, his face paled all over again. “But I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “JAMES!”

  The minute the doors open, all three of us were accosted by Nick Hunter. By then, Ferdie was experienced enough to step briskly out of the way, but I was caught off guard by the full force of it and slammed backward into the wall as Nick seized James in a suffocating embrace.

  “Where the hell did you go?!” Nick exclaimed. “I checked everywhere...the symphony, The Dorchester, hell, even that sex shop where we hid after that incident with... Oh. Hi, Della.”

  I lifted a battered hand, peeling myself off the wall of the elevator. “Hey, Nick. As you can see, I found him.”

  Abby rushed forward, and Nick wisely took a step back, releasing James so she could examine him up and down. “What’s the matter with him? Why won’t he speak?”

  “Well,” I began slowly, “James has already done an awful lot of talking today...or at least he’s said an awful lot in a few words.” I gave him a sympathetic look before turning once more to Nick and Abby, part of me almost relishing the explosion I knew was inevitable. “He just stormed the castle, so to speak, to take over his father’s company.”

  There was a brief pause before the walls of the penthouse trembled with the force of Nick’s one-word question: “What?!”

  Chapter 5

  “THEY LOOK LIKE ANTS.” I pressed my face against the window and mimed squashing each scampering cameraman in turn. “Why are they still there? Don’t they realize everyone up here has turned in for the night? What’s the point?”

  Abby looked up from the dining room table and cast a grim look out the window. “They know their prey tends to stage daring escapes. They’re hoping to get lucky.”

  “That’s true.” Nick glanced over fro
m his perch on the kitchen counter, where he’d been silently stacking antique shot glasses for the last twenty minutes. “Escape is always on our minds.”

  A faint smile flickered across my face as I sank down on an ottoman, emitting a deep sigh, and the three of us lapsed into silence once more. It had been like that for the better part of an hour, ever since Nick’s theatrical reaction to James’s rather explosive news.

  It was easy to see why the two were friends. I had never met such kindred spirits. From the looks, to the dramatics, to the charisma, to the whimsical fundamentals upon which they based their fantastical lives, it was like witnessing clones. The mirror image was only slightly askew with one major difference: The one sitting right across from me had made a commitment, had married a wife and started a family.

  “It’s nearly six,” Abby said with a little sigh, sweeping her long hair back into a ponytail. “Do you think we should go check on him?”

  Nick pushed automatically to his feet, but I beat him to it. “I’ll do it. It’s my turn.”

  And there’s no one in the world I would rather see.

  Like a ghost, I crept up the stairs to the second story, then flitted down the hallway toward James’s room. In that isolation, he’d begun making the dreaded phone calls to inform all interested parties about his father’s passing, those awkward calls that had to begin, “How do I say this?” In truth, I think he would have given up his fortune to delegate that horrible responsibility to someone else, but while the Cross family might have been powerful, it was small, and it was a safe bet that Robert would refuse to do it.

  The door was swung absentmindedly shut, so a few inches of space were left between it and its frame, just enough for me to peek inside. When I did, I stopped in my tracks.

  “Hi. Yes, hello? Is this Belfort Estates?” James raked his dark hair away from his eyes, and stared blindly at the wooden slats as he paced the floor. “Hi, Chester. Yes, I’m calling for Eloise Cross. Does she happen to be in?”

  There was a brief pause, followed by a murmured thanks. James sat down on the bed to wait, looking like the personification of heartbreak itself. His eyes were red, his face pale, and a faint tremble shook his hands, one that didn’t seem it would ever go away.

  I never would have guessed his misery from his voice. From a distance, that hypnotic English lilt was still strong, as if nothing was wrong, but that was James’s way. Frivolous details were shared without a moment’s thought, but everything important was tucked neatly inside, to be revealed only when necessary and never given away for free.

  When a crackle of static echoed from the other line, James lifted his head. “Hello?” Just hearing the withered voice seemed to have a profound effect on him. He sank farther into the mattress and perched his feet upon the frame as his entire body wilted in release of a quiet sigh. “Granny, it’s James.”

  During the next pause, a look of absolute devastation clouded his handsome face.

  “No, everything’s fine with me. I’m just...” Unable to confess the reason for his call, he gripped the phone more tightly. “No, Granny, I said everything’s fine with me. I just... I don’t know if anyone has called you yet, but...”

  I backed silently away from the door and pressed it shut, resolving that I would look in on him no more. It was time we left the man in peace.

  A strange buzzing filled my ears as I floated back down the stairs and to the living room. The others hadn’t altered their position in the slightest. Abby was still staring bleakly out the window, lost in thought, and Nick was still cross-legged on the counter, playing absentmindedly with his $100,000 antique shot glass tower, since he seemed to think of everything as a toy for his amusement.

  “How’s he doing?” Nick finally asked as I resumed my post on the ottoman.

  “He’s fine,” I replied automatically, before reconsidering. “Actually, he’s almost a little too fine. If it was me, I’d be in a complete meltdown,” I said with a little frown.

  “Well he did demand to take over his father’s company,” Abby murmured.

  Nick shook his head, glancing toward the second story before returning robotically to his tower. “Too fine is to be expected. That’s how he acts in times of stress. And he’s stressed out. His dad took a turn for the worse last month and the Crosses worked hard to keep it out of the papers, but by the end, he was in a near-comatose state.”

  “Is that why James returned to London?”

  “His dad called him and begged him to return, so he did. James was sure he’d get better. He never dreamed in a million years that this was the end.”

  “James assured me his father would return to the company soon, to set everything right. Not once did he mention that Ben was that ill.”

  Nick read my expression with a sad smile. “I know, I know, but you’ve got to realize that James is the consummate optimist. It was like he thought he could wish his father well, that he could just will his dad to open his damn eyes, even though he got no response as time went by. In the beginning, they used to talk and laugh. Then things just got worse. James tried talking to him, even tried reading to him and playing his favorite music, convinced that the old man heard him. After a while, he just started sitting by the bed and holding ol’ Ben’s hand, giving him encouragement. He was convinced he would recover.”

  I, on the other hand, could remember, because it happened the day before Ben died. That was the one thing he managed to tell me on the roof, right before he broke down. I did wonder what motivated him to visit that last time, on that fateful day of all days. Did he somehow know it was time to say goodbye?

  Before I had a chance to say anything, there was a sudden ding above the elevator.

  “Mommy! Daddy!”

  I looked up with a start as the doors slid open and a breathtaking little girl skipped into view, followed closely by Max, the Hunters’ personal bodyguard.

  Nick and Abby instantly sprang to life. In a swish of Chanel, she was on her feet, beaming with a maternal glow. On the other side of the room, the priceless glass tower crashed into a million little pieces as Nick hurried forward, wearing a broad smile and opening his arms wide enough for two.

  “Sweetheart!” Nick said.

  The girl was airborne the next second, leaping high in the air, only to be caught in her father’s arms. With the expression of a mildly impatient angel, she tolerated his relentless kisses only long enough to be passed to her mother, who delighted her with the same show of affection.

  I hovered uncertainly on the fringes with Max and Ferdie, not sure where I fit into that Norman Rockwell painting of a moment or if I could ever fit in at all. Fortunately, the little Princess Hunter seemed highly accustomed to conducting her daily activities under the watch of strangers, because she just waved cheerfully at Ferdie and punched Max playfully in the kneecap before making her way over to me.

  “Hello.” Her blue eyes lit up like there was a tiny sunrise inside, one she had conjured just for me. “What’s your name?”

  I stepped forward with a smile and bent over to place my hands on my knees, till the two of us were at eye level. “My name’s Della. What’s yours?”

  She stuck out her tiny hand and shook mine with the strength and grit of someone ten times her age. “Arabella Penelope Hunter...and it’s nice to meet you.”

  I was surprised she didn’t curtsey, because she resembled a cartoon princess, from her creamy skin, to her golden curls, to her sky-blue eyes—those magic eyes, obviously an inheritance from her father. At the same time, I couldn’t really see her bowing to anyone. There were grass stains on her knees, holes in the elbows of her sweater, and the remains of what looked like a shredded Dior headband clinging precariously to the tips of her curls. No, this girl doesn’t take shit from anyone. The world is her playground, and she’ll do as she pleases, another inheritance from her father, I’m sure.

  “It’s nice to meet you too!” I laughed aloud as she looked me up and down with those inquisitive eyes. “I can’t believ
e you’re walking and talking already. I was in Manhattan the day you were born, and they practically shut the whole city down. That seems like just yesterday.”

  She nodded practically and backed into her father’s legs. “Well, Daddy says I’m terribly advanced for my age.”

  I laughed again as Nick scooped her up with one hand and flicked at the holes in her sweater with a chiding grin. “You are, you little genius. You’re gonna take over the world someday.”

  “And who do you suppose she got that from?” Abby teased as she walked over to join us.

  Nick threw his daughter a secret wink, pointing toward his own chest, then answered with an obedient, “Why, you, of course, darling.”

  The two shared a grinning kiss before Abby knelt down to remove her daughter’s shoes.

  Arabella couldn’t have cared less about the process; since the moment she shook my hand, she’d kept her eyes on me. “Do you know Uncle James?”

  “I sure do,” I answered with a smile, but then I promptly panicked when I realized further explanation was required. “I’m his, uh...”

  “Della is Uncle James’s special friend,” Abby said with a scarcely contained grin.

  Arabella’s forehead puckered with a little frown. “Special friend?” she repeated in confusion. “Like me to Max?”

  Nick chuckled under his breath, ruffling her golden curls. “More like me to Mommy than you to Max.”

  My cheeks heated with flaming red, and I silently prayed that the child wouldn’t demand further elaboration. I knew a curious mind like hers would never settle with that little tidbit, but before she could perform more of her inquisition, her eyes lit up, and she leapt from her father’s arms and cried, “Uncle? Uncle James!”

  James paused in surprise halfway down the stairs as the little one darted his way, racing across the checkered tile like her socked feet were on fire. The troubles that plagued him were quickly put away, and by the time she hurled her tiny body in the air, he was a new man.