Billionaire Romance Box Set: The Billionaire's Legacy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Box Set Page 10

  “Awhile,” he said. The plane continued to climb, but the pilot came on and said that we were stable enough to undo our seat belts, so long as we stayed seated. “Listen, Cassie, I try to live a normal life. I try to not brag about being wealthy; in fact, most people have no idea who I am when they run into me in daily life.”

  I nodded. I had witnessed this first hand. Anytime we went out to eat or went shopping, Brad paid cash, in small bills. He never flashed a black card, or paid with hundreds, or flaunted his wealth in any way. It was part of the reason I found being with him so amazing. He knew I didn’t care about his money; he didn’t seem to care about it either. In the time that we had been together, he had made it seem as though he was a perfectly normal guy who just happened to have a few billion dollars.

  “I don’t brag because the money I have has come at a much higher cost than the money is worth.” He stared at a spot on the wall. I followed his gaze to the window, to the blinking light on the wing of the plane. “One of the things I love about you, one of the first things that drew you to me, was that I can see that you know that money isn’t everything. You wouldn’t believe some of the shallow people that come into my life, saying they’re someone they’re not, threatening, promising…” He shook his head. “All manner of lies. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that you’re not that way.” He looked at me, his eyes meeting mine directly and deeply, and my breath caught in my throat.

  It was as if he was urging me to confess… what? I hadn’t done anything. I reminded myself that any thoughts I’d had about Patrick had been just that, thoughts, and barely formed at that. Visiting him in the hospital had been something I’d kept from Brad, but only because Patrick was investigating him and I didn’t want to open up either one of them to trouble and danger.

  “I didn’t grow up around money,” I said. “It’s easy for me to not act greedy for something I never even had in the first place.”

  He regarded me with his serious eyes, and then he ran the outside of his fingers along my cheek. A shiver of arousal moved through me and I closed my eyes, reaching for his hand. I gripped his fingers with my own and held his hand to my face. It felt warm and solid, and, for at least a few moments, it was a centering force, drawing me to stability as the plane climbed higher into the night sky.

  It was the first time Brad had directly addressed his money with me, and it made me doubt that he had any sinister secrets; perhaps he was the one in a billion billionaire… the one who had come by his money honestly. Perhaps Patrick was wrong after all.

  “I think the plane has leveled off,” Brad said, and, just as he finished his sentence, the pilot came onto the intercom and confirmed that we had. “I have an idea.” He grinned at me and arched his right eyebrow in an expression that must have made his high school girlfriends swoon all over themselves.

  “Oh?” I asked, playing innocent, pretending that I couldn’t see the bulge in his jeans plain as day. “What’s that, Mr. White?”

  “Ever join the Mile High Club?” he asked.

  “Funny you should bring that up,” I said, trying to control the smile that I knew was playing on my lips. I could see him trying to ignore it, though it was clearly arousing him. “I always said I was saving myself for… a private plane owned by a billionaire on its way to Morocco.”

  He burst out laughing, breaking the remaining tension in the space from our serious conversation.

  “It’s true!” I insisted, nodding to punctuate my words. “I swear! I always said I would love to do it, but I wasn’t going to just do it on some commuter flight from New York to LA, right?”

  “So you decided it had to be a private plane destined for Morocco and owned by a billionaire,” he mocked.

  “Do you not believe me?” I pouted, letting my intentions show in my eyes.

  “I believe that I’m going to make all of your dreams come true in short order,” he said, his voice suddenly husky as he began to get down to business. He started by unzipping my sweatshirt. I’d worn a simple black tank top and black bra underneath, and he dispensed with those in just a few moments, and then laid me on my back on the plush leather.

  He stood on his knees, straddling my legs, and pulled off his t-shirt. I reached forward to unzip his jeans, and he pulled them off, then he reached down to pull off my leggings.

  “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known,” he said, his eyes scanning my body. I reached up for him, wanting his body pressing against mine even more than I wanted his admiration. Suddenly I was ravenous for him; I wanted him inside me, and I wanted it rough. He was tremendously hard, his cock pressing between my legs, and I grabbed it with both hands and began to stroke his shaft furiously. He groaned and gasped in alternating breaths, his hands holding down my shoulders. I sat up quickly, my core muscles straining, and kissed him. His tongue pushed into my mouth and we folded into each other. I wrapped my right leg around his hip and released my grip on his cock. He grabbed himself with his hand and lined himself up with my pussy, soaking wet and ready. He plunged into me deep and fast, and my gasp turned into a moan of pleasure as I felt his fullness inside of me. He wrapped his arms around me to keep me sitting up as he thrust against me. The angle was new and different, the pressure on my clit direct and constant.

  “Oh my God, Brad,” I moaned. “I want you deeper. I want you so deep inside of me that I can feel you in my throat…” I realized there were no words for the appetite I had for him, that my desire was completely insatiable.

  He pulled out and pushed me back onto the couch. His sudden vacancy left my body confused and wanting, and I looked at him, his cock glistening with a mixture of my wetness and his pre-cum.

  “I want to fuck your tits,” he said in a low voice. “Squeeze them for me.” I grabbed my breasts and pressed them together, creating a deep, tight canyon for his cock to settle into. As he fucked my chest, I saw his hand reach back and felt his fingers pressing into my clit. He slid his thumb faster and faster over the hard, pulsing nub, and my groans turned into cries as I tumbled into my orgasm. I pressed my breasts together harder, catching the tip of his cock with my tongue as he thrust upward, until he groaned sharply and pulled back again. He quickly spread my legs and found his way inside once again, the waves of my orgasm still causing my muscles to twitch and shudder.

  “Oh, Cassie,” he moaned as he came, his cum flowing into me and reaching every available space inside. He arched his upper back then rounded it as he spent himself, once again hitting the hair trigger of my clit and pushing me into another orgasm. I let this climax wash over me; I laid back and simply enjoyed the pulsing sensations of each small explosion in my body.

  Afterward, we lay together in a tangle of sweaty limbs. My mind was blank save for Brad’s body pressed safely against mine. I drifted off to sleep content. No matter what happened, we would face it together.

  Brad

  The scene that lay before me sent shivers of dread and devastation through me. The infidels hadn’t just stolen from the storage facility. They hadn’t just set fires. They had demolished every brick, every window, every load bearing wall in the place.

  “Did they drop a bomb on the place?” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else, though Simon, standing next to me, took it upon himself to answer.

  “No,” he said grimly. “Though if they had, there might have been less damage.”

  It was dawn, and under normal circumstances I would be groggy and wanting only to find my way to my suite and rest. Instead, I had sent Cassie to the hotel and made up an excuse about having to handle an emergency with the Legacy property in neighboring Mali. “Just a few phone calls,” I’d promised as I sent her off in the town car that had been waiting to pick us up at the airport. “Go and take a shower, then get some rest. When you wake up from your nap, I’ll be there and we can go grab something to eat.”

  The lies flowed from my mouth easily, but only because I was well practiced at doing so; each time I looked into Cassie’s eyes and lied t
o her, I realized that she was special. The only other woman I’d ever felt guilt about lying to had been Lorinda. I winced at the thought of her name and closed my eyes.

  “What do you want to do first?” Simon asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  “We need an inventory,” I said. “We need to get a team to go in and pick through every single piece of rubble, no matter how big or small. I want every piece of weapon, every shred of shrapnel. I want every molecule accounted for one way or another. Then,” I said, “we’re going to find the people that did this, and we’re going to make them sorry.”

  Fury rose within me as I realized that the infidels were going straight for Manuel Brown and they had only unintentionally gone through me to do it.

  “I’ll set up the team immediately,” Simon said, taking out his phone and beginning to press at the keys rapidly. “I’ll have them here and working within the hour.”

  “When will we be seeing Manuel?” I asked. I knew whatever answer I got would be too soon. This was a significant loss; a message being sent to Manuel by someone, someone with equal, or perhaps greater?, power than his own.

  “He’s on his way, Sir,” Simon said. “If we can have the team in place by his arrival, it will look better for you. For us.”

  “If the team isn’t here by the time he arrives, Manuel will find me digging through the rubble myself.” I ran my hand through my hair; it came away thick with sweat from the already daunting heat of the day. “I’m not losing anything further from this mess.”

  I stalked away from Simon and toward the pile of destruction that had once been a warehouse full of the majority of our West African stockpile.

  I was knee deep in the mess supervising the small but strong crew Simon had called together when a black town car pulled up, kicking up waves of dirt and dust behind it. I stared, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand as the door opened and Manuel Brown stepped out.

  He walked over to me and I could tell that he was angry, obviously, but there was something else in his eyes. Fear? Disbelief? I was trying to figure it out when he began to speak.

  “Please explain to me how this happens, Mr. White,” he said. “Please explain to me how I conduct business with you in London and have nothing but praise for you. I give you a picture of your son. I assure you that he is safe and healthy. I expect that this reward will produce quality efforts from you. Then,” he paused, his voice darkening even further. “Then, I get a phone call that you have allowed someone to breach our security system. You have allowed someone to destroy my property completely and maliciously. Please explain this to me.”

  He stood at the edge of the black pile that marked the perimeter of what had once been a solid, invisible in plain sight storage facility.

  “Sir,” I began, but I had no words. “Sir, I can assure you that we will have the warehouse rebuilt and the inventory replaced within the month. Simon has taken a full inventory of what survived the… the attack… and I have people manually comparing that list to the existing inventory. We will conduct an investigation into how the perimeter was breached, and we will find out who did it. When we do, I can either take care of them myself, or, if you would prefer, I can turn them over to you.” That was the best offering I could give.

  He pursed his lips and looked over my shoulder. “I don’t like when people destroy what belongs to me,” he said. “When you find them, kill them. When you kill them, alert me. I don’t want to hear a word from you until that happens.”

  He turned and walked away, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and covering his nose and mouth with it.

  I sighed, my breath trembling in a burst of anxiety. He wouldn’t kill Antoine… not this time. He wasn’t done with me yet.

  Cassie

  “Hello, is this Ms. Cassandra White?”

  “Yes,” I said, guarded after seeing the unknown number pop up on my cell phone. I was sitting on the lanai in my bathrobe sipping a glass of champagne while Brad did some work at the computer inside the suite. We had been in Morocco for nearly two weeks. Over the course of the first several days, I’d felt anxious nearly around the clock, wondering what we were doing there, sure that it couldn’t be as simple as just being on vacation. I’d exhausted myself watching Brad’s every move. My worries had compounded when I saw him leaving the suite early, earlier in the morning than he’d said he would, multiple days in a row. I’d weighed my options: I could follow him, risk getting caught and perhaps even a break up, or I could drink champagne and be on vacation. I chose the latter, breaking up my relaxation with writing an article on the Moroccan Legacy, a hotel completely unique to the area and one that had employed hundreds of locals.

  “This is Nurse Yates from University College Hospital.”

  My anxiety spiked and I sat upright on my chair. Patrick. “Yes?” I said.

  “As I’m sure you are well aware, we have a patient in our care by the name of Patrick Shim. He says that you are his only living relative.”

  “He says?” I asked, excitement pushing my anxiety aside. “He’s awake?”

  “He’s awake; that’s why I’m calling.” The nurse sounded tired and stressed out. “To tell you that he’s awake, and he’s asking for you.”

  “He hasn’t called me,” I said.

  “He says that we’ve lost his cell phone,” the nurse said dryly. “He’s got quite the attitude on him.”

  I grinned as tears poked at my eyes. “Yes, he certainly does. You should have tried growing up with him.”

  “No, thank you,” the nurse said. “I’ll put you through.”

  I waited, my eyes closed in a silent prayer of gratitude, nearly doubled over in my chair with the excitement of hearing Patrick’s voice.

  “Hi, Cass,” a quiet, subdued voice said.

  “Patrick?” I squeaked out. “Is that you?”

  “Alive and well,” he said. “Well, not well…”

  I couldn’t help it; tears poured out of my eyes and fell down my cheeks. “You’re alive, though,” I said. “That’s something.”

  “Where are you right now?” he asked, his voice straining. I could tell that each word was work for him to get out, and the image of his misshapen jaw pushed into my mind.

  “Don’t talk,” I said. “Your jaw.”

  “Tell me where you are,” he repeated. “Let me worry about my fucking jaw.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m in Morocco. With Brad.”

  “Is he there with you right now?” Patrick’s voice sounded livelier.

  “Yes,” I said. “Well, he’s not with me, with me; he’s in another room on a conference call. I’m out on the lanai enjoying a lovely breakfast; it’s really amazing here.” I realized I was rambling, in shock over hearing Patrick’s voice.

  “That’s great,” he said. “I’m thrilled for you. Listen, have you heard Brad mention the name Antoine ever?”

  “Sure,” I said easily. “Antoine is one of the general managers of the London Legacy property. He and Brad are really close.” Brad had told me often enough about how much he admired Antoine as a mentor and as a man. “Why?”

  “No, not that Antoine… this is a younger man. Possibly even a teenager. He’s never mentioned anyone like that?”

  “No,” I said. “Are you sure the name is Antoine? Because Antoine is an older man.” I shrugged, though there was no way for Patrick to see me. “And he’s a very cool guy. Brad trusts him completely, and I do too.”

  “You can’t trust anyone completely,” Patrick said.

  “Including you?” I teased.

  “This isn’t funny,” Patrick said, his voice straining. I felt bad immediately and dropped the smile from my face.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know it’s not funny. Who is Antoine? Why are you asking?”

  “The men who attacked me, they know your name. They know that you’re with Brad, and they know that you travel with him.”

  I felt fear coiling in my stomach; suddenly, the champagne felt like a nauseating wei
ght. “How do they know that? Who were they?”

  “I’m figuring that out, slowly but surely. There are a few names that keep coming up. Antoine is one. Manuel, another.”

  I shook my head. “Neither of those are names Brad has ever mentioned. Except for the GM Antoine.”

  “And Simon is the third.”

  “Simon? Simon is Brad’s business partner,” I said easily. “I’ve met him twice; once at a benefit and once when he came to the house to have a business meeting with Brad. But…Simon would never hurt you. I don’t think he’d be physically able to do anything that would even pinch, never mind…” Never mind do what was done to you, I thought.

  “The names aren’t coming up because they’re the suspects in my assault,” Patrick said. “They’re coming up because they’re on an interest list. Brad’s name is on it too.”

  “What ‘interest list’?” I asked.

  Patrick paused. “I can’t tell you. It’s not safe.”

  “Oh for Christ sake,” I said. “I’m not the one laid up in the hospital. Have they moved you out of ICU yet?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to reach through the phone and take them back. “I’m sorry,” I said in my next breath.

  “You need to remember, Cassie, that you are in danger. It may not seem like it, but you are. You might feel like you’re protected in your little Moroccan fortress, but there’s a whole lot going on around you that you’re not able to see. I’d feel better if I was there to protect you…”

  I snorted. “I have plenty of protection here, already,” I said.

  “But I can’t be,” he said loudly, overriding my comment. “And so I’m doing everything on my end to safeguard you as much as possible. Have you seen Simon in Morocco?”

  “No,” I said, confused. “Why would he be here? This isn’t a business thing, Patrick; we’re just on vacation.”

  “Are you sure about that? Didn’t you just tell me that he was on a conference call?”

  “Well, he’s doing little bits of business here and there, of course,” I said defensively. “He’s the owner of one of the biggest luxury hotel chains in the world; it’s not like he ever truly gets a vacation all to himself.”