The Billionaire's Heir Page 8

  She’s nuts!

  I cleared my throat. “So let me get this straight. You just wanted Nick to feel embarrassed? And that will appease your anger?”

  “Bingo.”

  “What if I tell Mitchell everything I know? Or what happens if Nick spills the beans about you hiring the photographer?”

  “Look at what I did, just because I was embarrassed. Imagine what I would do to you and Nick if you destroy my future marriage. I’ll come at you so hard, I promise you won’t know what hit you.”

  Chapter 13

  “You have to be fucking kidding me!” Nick said.

  I closed my eyes as a priceless mid-century vase crashed into the wall, shattering into a million pieces; two others that used to be just like it were already crumbled on the floor.

  “She just pulled you outside and admitted it?” Nick demanded. “She told you outright that she paid a photographer to take those pictures?”

  Since it was the fourth or fifth time he’d asked the question, I answered with a tired sigh, “Yes, Nick.”

  “Well, I just don’t get that,” he raged. “Why would she—”

  “Apparently, she met you once a couple years ago, at some club. You were out for a night on the town, and she was hoping to be the girl who went home with you.” I sighed again, even more tired than before. “She kept coming on to you and even invited you back to her place, but you weren’t interested. You left with someone else.” Why she felt the need to tell me all of that, I would never know, but the shock had faded, and fatigue was settling in. So far, my magical trip to the Hamptons had consisted of just one exhausting trial after the next, and all I wanted was some sleep and to go home.

  “I don’t remember her. Really.” Nick stared off into space, trying to place the woman in the long list of nameless people who’d wanted to fuck him over the years. “Not at all.”

  “She had a crush on you for a long time. You guys run in the same social circles. I guess you rejected her in front of all her friends. She never got over it and plotted a revenge scheme.”

  “She dated my dad to get back at me?”

  “No. But when she learned you were his son, she plotted a little revenge, to teach you a lesson. She wanted to embarrass you in front of the entire world; the way she was embarrassed when you shot her down. She wanted you to feel the sting of embarrassment. She felt like that was fair enough revenge. But the photographer backstabbed her and went to Mitchell first for more money. And your father is way more powerful than she is. So there was little she could do once your dad obtained the flash drive. And Mitchell doesn’t know a damn thing.”

  “Then I’ll tell him.”

  “Your dad has possession of the flash drive now. Claudia is keeping quiet because she doesn’t want your dad to know she hired the photographer in the first place. Yet, she wanted you to know, so she could feel like she got a little justice, I suppose. Let’s just play your dad’s game and get the flash drive from him. If we involve Claudia, she’ll come at us hard. And we don’t need that kind of trouble.”

  There was a brief pause before his face clouded and a fourth vase shattered atop the rest.

  “The fucking bitch! What the fuck are we still even doing here?” He paced suddenly to the door, the pieces of shattered porcelain crunching under his designer shoes. “I know exactly what room she and Dad are in. I should just march in there and...” He trailed off suddenly when he saw me slumping against the wall. “Abby!”

  A light sheen of sweat had broken out over my forehead, and I threw out a hand to brace myself as the room started to spin.

  He was beside me in a blur, lifting me gracefully off my feet to rush me over to the bed. His eyes filled up with worry as he laid me gently down, stroking back my hair with one hand, with no regard for bobby pins this time, reaching for his cellphone with the other. “Honey, what’s going on? Are you okay?” His fingers flew expertly over the buttons, and I saw Harold’s name flash up on the screen. “Should I call the doctor? What are—”

  “No,” I said quickly, already knowing that a doctor would come up with the same result as one of those cheap dollar-store pregnancy tests. “Don’t call anyone. Please. I just felt a little dizzy. It’s no big deal.”

  His eyebrows lifted slowly, his fingers still hovering over the phone. “Are you sure? Abby, I can have people here in two minutes if you—”

  “I’m sure.” I gave him my most winning smile, patting the bed beside me. “I’m just not used to all this,” I said, weakly lifting my dress. “A lot has happened over the last few days. I’m just a little worn out.”

  More like...I’m just a little pregnant with your baby, and I need to rest.

  He eyed me warily but settled on the mattress, hugging an arm around me as I snuggled onto his chest. “Can I at least get you a water or something?”

  “Nick,” I chuckled, laying my head on his shirt, “I’m fine.”

  We lay there for a long time, calming down, decompressing, and relaxing in each other’s arms. The world slowly righted itself as he stroked his hand again and again through my hair, soothing me with a comforting rhythm. When we heard the last of the guests bidding their farewells from the ballroom, he kissed the top of my head with a quiet sigh.

  “I’m sorry. I know this week isn’t shaping up to be everything you were hoping for.”

  That was putting it lightly. I was so excited reading that brochure, so determined to make the most of our time in that gorgeous estate, even if we were forced to show up there. Of course, I also knew not everyone else shared my enthusiasm.

  “You warned me,” I said quietly, staring down at the mattress. “You said this place is deceiving, not all sunshine and games. You never told me why though.”

  His entire body tensed; I could feel it even through the many folds of my dress and the fabric of his tuxedo. There was a slight hitch in his breathing, and I could have sworn I felt his heart skip a beat.

  “This is where my parents got married.”

  Oh shit. Well, that would do it.

  It was a good enough reason to avoid the place, a good enough reason to stay away, but I knew it couldn’t be the only reason Nick hated the Hamptons. I didn’t want to probe too much, to push too hard, so I just waited for him to tell me, which he soon did.

  “It’s also where I lived with Dad after they divorced. In the summers, it was just the two of us...and Harold, of course.”

  This time, it was me who stopped breathing. We were standing on the edge of a precipice, with no safety net to break our fall. The truth about Nick and Mitchell’s volatile relationship was one of the only subjects we had not yet discussed, one of the only secrets left between two people who had fallen in love and were supposed to tell each other everything.

  The same realization seemed to hit Nick at the same time, and he twitched restlessly beneath me, shaken by the sudden inevitability.

  “My father was abusive,” Nick said softly.

  “Your dad used to hit you?” I asked, wishing with everything in me that I wasn’t lying on top of him, that I couldn’t feel the way his heart literally stopped beating for a moment before racing at triple its usual speed.

  “A lot of people deal with that,” he deflected evasively. “My dad has a temper and used to take it out on me.”

  Typical Nick. When he didn’t want to talk about something, he simply denied its importance or acted as if it never happened. As open as he was about most parts of his life, the man was a vault about others. No matter how hard anyone pressed, whether a journalist, a publicist, or even the damn captain of the police force, the man wouldn’t say a word.

  Except...aren’t we supposed to be past that now? Do people in love need walls?

  I nodded slowly, giving him a second of reprieve before trying again. “So your dad did hit you then?”

  For a long time, Nick didn’t say anything. He simply lay beside me, as still as a statue, remembering but not wanting to. He just lay there, reliving a thousand hurts and br
uises in just a momentary flicker of his eyes. When he finally did speak, it was in a soft monotone, a strange, inflectionless, flat voice I’d never heard from him before. “Yes,” he said. “And one time it got really bad. He was wearing a ring, something gifted to him by a college or some foundation, or maybe it was his latest wedding band. I don’t know, but it must have nicked a vein, because they couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

  One hand drifted almost absentmindedly to his face, to a spot by his left temple. It was a movement so reflexive and casual that he didn’t realize he was doing it himself. My eyes followed his every move, searching for a scar, but I saw nothing but smooth skin.

  “I don’t really remember what happened.” He shrugged briskly. “I woke up on a coffee table with Harold yelling at my father that we needed to get to a hospital.”

  “Wait a minute. Harold actually yelled at Mitchell?”

  “I know,” Nick said dryly, guessing my thoughts. “I couldn’t believe it either. The last thing I remember is him ripping off his tie and pressing it against my face. Then I blacked out.” As horrible as the story was, a faint smile ghosted his face as he continued, “The next day, Harold took me out for ice cream. We ate it in Central Park, walked around until I calmed down. I’ve been addicted to it ever since.”

  My heart shattered, then warmed at the image of Nick as a child, wandering aimlessly around in the sunshine, with a mess of melted ice cream dripping down his hands. I knew he was addicted to ice cream, because over the years, I’d seen him slip away to get a cone hundreds of times. The day when Mitchell told the two of us to get married, when Nick ran out of the apartment and I was afraid he’d fled the city, he’d really only run as far as the nearest ice cream stand for a little frozen self-soothing. Soft serve, for Nick, softened the blows life and his father gave him, and something about that was so sad that it melted my heart like a cone in the sun.

  I had no idea why that part of our conversation was some kind of a trigger, but a wave of breathless anticipation washed over me, and I propped myself up to stare into his eyes. “Nick, have you ever thought about having kids?”

  After a beat, he scrunched up his brow. “Wow, Wilder. That’s a hell of a transition.”

  A mortified blush rose in my cheeks as he laughed shortly.

  “I tell you I’m a victim of child abuse, and you ask if I want to have a child? Quite a leap there.”

  Realizing I didn’t really think that one through that well, the blush remained and darkened, but the question didn’t disappear. For me, his answer was critical, more critical than he possibly could have known, so I asked him again. “Do you? I mean, do you ever even think about it?”

  His sarcastic smile faded into a thoughtful frown as he considered it. Then it cleared entirely as he offered a flippant shrug. “No, not really.” When I locked my eyes on his, he shrugged again. “I mean, I’m sure I’d be a shit father. It’s probably best not to risk it. I surely haven’t had the best example.”

  It felt like a weighted stone was pressing against my ribcage, making it nearly impossible for me to breathe. Somewhere, a door was closing, too fast for me to stop it, but I knew if I couldn’t find a way to keep it open, I’d forever be left to stand alone on the other side.

  “That’s not true,” I answered in a hushed whisper. “I think you’d be an amazing father.”

  He laughed shortly before throwing open his arms. “Look where we are, Abby. How would a child fit into this picture?”

  I followed the gesture, in spite of myself. It implied much more than just the extravagant room. It was about his entire lifestyle, the perpetual spotlight, and decades of reading about himself in decades of papers, his entire life playing out on a global stage.

  “This is no place for a child, Abby,” he said, casually and distractedly, too preoccupied to even notice that the girl in his arms had just died a little, that the future she’d envisioned had died with her.

  “No...” My voice trembled as my skin ran ice cold. “You’re right. This is no place for a child.”

  Nick and I locked eyes once more, and I saw that door close forever.

  Chapter 14

  I cannot believe I did this again!

  For the second time in only a week, I found myself slipping away from the man I loved, leaving him in the lurch. For the second time in only a week, I found myself running away. The only difference was that this time, I didn’t go all the way to Peru. This time, I went somewhere a little closer to home. In fact, up until very recently, it actually was my home.

  “Here we are, miss. Brooklyn.”

  I looked up with a start before glancing out the window. Sure enough, we were back in my old neighborhood. Interestingly enough, while my life might have changed in every conceivable way since the last time I was on those streets, the streets themselves looked exactly the same. That, if nothing else, was oddly comforting.

  “Thanks,” I said quickly, marveling at our quick arrival. “I really appreciate it.”

  Truly, the man was a saint. Not only did he agree to drive out to the Hamptons at five in the morning to pick me up, but he also successfully battled his way into one of the most secure estates in the Western Hemisphere just to retrieve me. Then, he watched with strained patience as I climbed precariously out the second-story window, grabbed the vines of ivy trailing the walls, and shimmied my way down.

  I had to raid Nick’s wallet before I left, so I gave the driver a large bill as a tip.

  He looked at it for a moment and held it up to the light before eying me suspiciously in the rearview mirror. “You look really familiar. Do I know you from someplace?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. My face was plastered across so many newsstands that it was really impossible not to know me. Still, I quickly answered, “Nope,” then slid off the seat. “I just have one of those faces, I guess.”

  The second I hit the sidewalk, I took a moment to get my bearings. My apartment had been rented out now, so I planned to stay with a friend for the night.

  “Again, Abigail?”

  My heart stopped cold, and I whirled around to see Nick standing on the sidewalk behind me, still dressed in the previous night’s crumpled clothes and staring down at me with a frustrated scowl on his face.

  My mouth fell open, as I was momentarily stunned by the mere logistics. “How the hell did you get here so fast?” I finally asked. “I literally just left—”

  “Exactly.” His beautiful eyes flashed pure malice as he took a step toward me. “Again, Abby. You left again.” This time, he didn’t even ask for a reason. Instead, he just stood there on the Brooklyn sidewalk in a $6,000 tuxedo, staring at me as all the light slowly left his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, forcing myself not to cry. It’s time to cut this cord once and for all, no matter how much I want to hang on, I told myself. “Nick, this just isn’t going to work out. Your world, your lifestyle... It’s no place for me. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s time we put this little charade to rest.”

  He flinched as if he’d been hit, and a look of quiet devastation flashed through his eyes. “Charade? Is that... Shit, is that what I am to you? A fuckin’ game?”

  “What!? No! I mean...” I trailed off, shocked that he would even think such a thing. “Nick, not us. I mean the rest of it. The whole world thinks we just got married in Peru. My taxi driver recognized me, for goodness sake! Not only that, but your future prepubescent stepmother hired a man to take naked photos of us just to get back at you for not having sex with her!” My arms shot out to gesture around just as his had done the night before. “This, Nick! I’m talking about this! This whole thing is crazy! And I miss my nice, stable, boring life.”

  It was a valid argument, one that would have worked on anyone else, but it didn’t work on Nick Hunger because he’d been raised with much higher expectations. “So you just run away?” he demanded, surrendering not an inch of ground. “Abby, you already know my world’s crazy. Hell, you’ve lived in
it with me for the last two years. You agreed to continue living in it with me in a different way, as the woman I love. You knew what you were in for, but now here we are again, me having to chase you. Why?”

  People were starting to stare, but both of us were too incensed to care. The gloves were off, and tempers were running high. Thus, instead of calming down and talking rationally, instead of realizing we weren’t really mad at each other and taking a moment to figure out the source of the underlying tension, as any good shrink would have told us to do, we simply stood there, squaring off in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Why?” I repeated, incredulous. “I just told you why!”

  “No, you just fed me the same old bullshit we went through just a few days ago in South America! What the fuck is going on, Abby? I can’t keep chasing you every other week if you’re going to—”

  “I never asked you to chase me!” My eyes flashed in the sun as I threw back my waves of curly hair. My ensemble hadn’t changed much since the previous night either, since we’d both fallen asleep in our clothes, and in that pricy gown, every inch of me seemed to literally shimmer with rage. “Perhaps I wasn’t explicit enough, but the whole sneaking-out thing kind of implies that I don’t want to be followed!”

  Nick took another step forward, just as furious as I was. “You know I’ll always come after you, Abby. I love you, and—”

  “And I’m pregnant, damn it!”

  The entire street fell abruptly quiet, and it seemed that even traffic stopped.

  Well, blurting it during an argument? That’s one way to tell him, I guess.

  There wasn’t a single shred of emotion on Nick’s face, not a solitary expression to cue me in as to how he felt about the truth. He was simply blank, and that certainly didn’t put me at ease.

  “I found out the day of the merger,” I said softly, my voice gentling the longer I looked into his eyes, “at Stacy’s ultrasound. That was why I ran off the way I did, because I kind of freaked out. With everything going on, I just didn’t know what to do, and I just...panicked.”