Billionaire Bad Boys: A Collection of Contemporary and Paranormal Bad Boys Page 16

  She reached for some steel tongs sitting on the cart.

  “I’ll take four, thanks.” He grinned.

  “Coming right up.” She dished up four toasts and handed him a fork, a napkin, and a plate.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Then, she put one on a plate for herself.

  Foregoing the silverware, he picked one of them up and shoved it in his mouth.

  “Unlike you,” he said through a mouthful, “I don’t have to pretend to be citified.”

  She chuckled and cut into her toast and Italian ham then took a bite. “Mmm. So good.” She chewed and swallowed. “So, what time is our departure?”

  “High noon,” Adam said, polishing off the last of his breakfast.

  “Noon? That barely gives me enough time to get ready.”

  Adam laughed. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Thanks for breakfast.”

  He rose to his feet, leaned forward, and kissed her cheek.

  “You’re welcome for breakfast.” She placed her fork next to her plate.

  “I’ll be at your door at 11:55.”

  “See you then.” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her stiff white napkin.

  He spun on his heel and strode away.

  Nearly five hours later, bathed, primped, polished, dressed in a short, flowing, off-the-shoulder dress ensemble, and styled to the max, Savannah exited the limo at the Parliament Speedway racetrack in Queens. Adam followed right behind her, and they strode toward the racetrack.

  The sound of roaring engines punctured the air.

  “Is this a car race?” she asked, eyeing a stream of people heading toward the speedway. Her body began to hum with excitement.

  As a foster child, she’d rarely gone to events such as car races, or even the county fair.

  “No money,” her foster parents would invariably say. “We can’t afford to take you.”

  Hence, as an adult, she loved outings like this.

  “So I’ve been told. I barely know more than you. I’ve been informed to take you up here,” Adam said, pointing to a long, spiraling concrete ramp, with guards on either side.

  “Is he up there?” Forgetting who she was supposed to be, she almost skipped with joy, like a child.

  “No. He said to wait for him. He wants to surprise you.”

  “Surprise me? With what?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” He flashed her a mischievous smile. Then, he stepped up to one of the bodyguards. “This is Ms. Weathersby. I’m her bodyguard, Adam Franzoni.”

  The guard scanned a screen reader. “Ms. Weathersby,” he said with a nod. “We’ve been expecting you. Head upstairs, and someone will seat you.”

  “Merci,” she said, slipping into her Naeva personality.

  Upstairs, a woman, dressed in a somber Navy-blue suit, greeted them. She smiled a practiced smile, flashing white teeth surrounded by ruby red lips.

  The image of glam-girl Pan-Am stewardesses came to Savannah’s mind as she eyed the woman. She expected to be shown to her first-class seat on a 1960’s Boeing 707. She almost giggled.

  Glamorous women and well-dressed men milled around making it look more like the Kentucky derby than a race event. They sipped champagne, laughed, and nibbled on canapes.

  “The race is about to begin,” a loudspeaker boomed.

  The imbibers headed toward their private boxes.

  “Ms. Weathersby,” Miss Pan-Am cooed. “Let me show you to your seat.” She glanced at Adam. “Please follow me.”

  She led them to reserved seating, like the one where Savannah had been when she was shot at yesterday.

  Savannah hesitated before entering.

  “It’s okay,” Adam murmured as if sensing her thoughts. “I’m here.”

  She nodded, then trekked across the blue and gray carpeted floor. A line of old black striped chairs rested in front of a wall of glass, each one separated by a small table. She took the first seat at the very end. Adam stood at her back.

  To her right and left, separated by glass walls, sat other wealthy individuals.

  Some smiled and nodded at her. Most kept their gazes glued to the racetrack below.

  A waiter entered the seating area with a tray of glasses filled with champagne. A waitress followed behind him with a tray of canapes.

  Savannah smiled, taking a glass of bubbly and a few appetizers. Then, she turned her attention to the racetrack.

  Vintage race cars whizzed around the track.

  The audience below screamed and cheered.

  A loudspeaker blared overhead.

  “And in the lead, driving his 1956 D-Type Jaguar is Liam Chartier, representing Team Chartier. Duke Wilmington holds 2nd place, driving a 1967 Shelby Mustang. Mike Evans holds 3rd place, in his 1966 Corvette.”

  Savannah’s body surged with excitement. She turned her head to look at Adam. “He’s racing vintage cars?”

  “Seems so.” Adam smiled.

  “Who knew?” She turned back, leaning forward in her chair.

  The race went on for several more moments, with cars one and two changing leads.

  Savannah bolted to her feet, unable to sit still. “Come on, Liam! You’ve got this!”

  “It’s a tight race, folks. Chartier and Wilmington are neck and neck,” the loudspeaker guy said. “It’s getting down to the wire. It’s close.”

  Liam sped into the lead, crossing the finish line before the Mustang.

  “And the winner by a nose is Team Chartier!”

  The checkered flag waved him past.

  The crowd roared.

  Savannah cheered and shouted, overcome with unexplained joy. He wanted me to see this side of him.

  Liam made a victory lap in his car. When he got out, he stared at the box where she sat and bowed.

  The audience let loose with applause.

  From that distance, she doubted he could see her, but she forgot herself and threw kisses at him.

  Two long-haired buxom babes in swimming suits and high heels strode toward him. One of them held a trophy. She presented him with the award, then both women snaked their arms around his waist and kissed his cheeks, simultaneously.

  The flash of cameras burst at Liam’s face.

  He grinned, hefting the trophy high in her direction.

  He’d never looked so happy.

  A throng of well-wishers crowded around him, as he strode off the arena.

  “Wow,” Savannah said, whirling to face Adam. “Exciting, huh?”

  A somber expression covered his face. “It was.”

  “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re not developing feelings for him?” His eyebrows pinched together.

  “No way,” she lied. “It was only…did you see his face? Everyone deserves some happiness. Even you said so.”

  “Okay,” he said tersely. “This whole thing will be over soon. I don’t want you to get your heart broken.”

  “I’ve got this,” she said, smoothing down her skirt.

  “Okay,” he said, dubiously, keeping his expression neutral.

  Many minutes later, Liam burst through the door, looking ten years younger. Dressed in jeans and a soft polo shirt, he said, enthusiastically, “What did you think?”

  “It was fantastic! I didn’t know you raced.” Giddy with excitement, she started to throw her arms around his neck. She caught herself and held back.

  “Now you know.” He strode toward her, grabbed her around the waist, and hugged her hard.

  Whoa. This is unexpected. Who replaced surly Liam?

  He smelled of engine oil and sweat. He smelled fantastic. When he pulled away, he said, “Sit. One of my friends is in the next race.”

  He stepped toward the chairs, waiting for her to be seated first.

  When she had taken her place, he turned toward Adam. “Get a waiter in here, will you? I’m parched.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you…Adam.”

  Savannah’s eyeb
rows arched. He’s referring to Adam as a person? What happened to him? Is he high?

  “Anytime, sir.” Adam nodded.

  Liam faced the glass partition and took Savannah’s hand in his. “Thank you for coming,” he said, staring at the arena.

  “My pleasure. Thank you for inviting me.” Savannah squeezed his hand, feeling both flustered and happy.

  “Are you feeling better?” he said, giving her a sidelong glance.

  “Yes, much. Thanks for asking.” She spoke stiffly and formally, but at least they were talking.

  “Excellent.”

  “Did you enjoy whatever you did last night?” She smiled and reached for her champagne with her free hand.

  “Not really.” His lips pressed firmly. “Only parts of it were pleasurable.”

  He withdrew his hand.

  Savannah sensed his walls crashing down between them. Oh, no.

  The waiter came in and extended the tray of champagne to Liam. “Excellent race, sir.”

  “Thank you.” He lifted a glass of sparkling liquid and handed it to Savannah before taking one for himself.

  The gaze he gave her was almost shy, making her melt inside.

  “You’re quite the driver, sir,” the waitress said, offering him the canapes.

  “Thank you,” he said, again.

  He nodded to them both, and they backed away.

  Savannah and Liam sat silently for a few minutes.

  I’ve lost him again. I shouldn’t have asked him about last night. She thought about Adam’s advice in her ear when she sat at Charlie’s Place, to open to him and get him to open to her. “Liam.”

  Liam kept his gaze on the cars below. “What?”

  She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “I know who has a hit out on me. And, I know that bullet was meant for me, not you.”

  His head slowly turned. His face had transformed into one of pure, cold rage.

  She stiffened, arching away from him.

  “Who is it?” The veins in his neck bulged.

  “It’s the Abernathys.”

  His nostrils flared. The veins on his neck bulged. “Fucking hell.”

  Nervous energy flitted through her bloodstream. She clutched the arms of the chair.

  “How do you know this?” His jaw ticked.

  “My father…he told me last night. He found out.”

  “This changes things.” He bolted to his feet. “I need to show you something.”

  He seized her hand, yanking her to her feet.

  “What? What is it?” She scurried after him. “Where are we going?”

  “Get the car,” he ordered Adam.

  “It’s waiting outside,” Adam said, following close behind.

  Liam strode through the doors.

  Well-wishers greeted him. Gawkers took pictures of both him and Savannah.

  He nodded at some, ignored others. He hustled along the concrete corridor, through the stadium, and led her into the parking lot.

  “Where is it? Where’s the limo?” he snapped.

  “Over here,” Adam said.

  A late afternoon breeze swirled around her legs, whirling her hem. She clapped her free hand over it to keep it from flying up.

  Liam tugged her to the black sedan and helped her inside. He seated himself next to her but felt miles away.

  “You two go on. I’ll head back to the manor,” Adam said. He stood outside the car, leaning in.

  He gave Savannah a look that said, Do your thing. Work this.

  She gave a small nod, still wondering where they were headed.

  “Do you need me to call a car?” Liam said.

  “I’m fine. I’ll take a cab.”

  “Right.” Liam’s jaw grew rigid.

  The driver shut the door of the limo, trapping her with the ever-impulsive Liam.

  “Head to Greenstone,” Liam snapped at the driver.

  The cemetery for the rich and famous? Savannah’s eyebrows furrowed.

  The sedan eased away from the curb.

  The tension between them was so frigid, Savannah wondered if frost would form on the windows. She glanced at Liam from time to time.

  He sat rigidly, his eyes trained on the road.

  She turned her attention to stare out the window. Anxiety twisted her gut into knots. The knots formed new knots. When they arrived at Greenstone, she was a jangle of nerves.

  The limo pulled through the elegantly forged iron gate. It crept up the winding road between rows and rows of headstones, then came to a stop. The driver hastened from the front seat and bustled to the passenger door, moving swiftly. “Sir,” he said, holding the door wide.

  Liam stepped somberly from the sedan. He held his hand out to her, helping her from the car without looking at her face.

  She stepped out into the quiet world of the dead. Green lawns, granite, and trees surrounded her, providing a soothing backdrop to the sorrow and tragedy buried beneath the surface.

  “Why are we here?” Her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Why are we at Greenstone?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.” He strode briskly up the hill toward a huge granite and marble mausoleum.

  She hurried after him, confused by his actions. Is he going to show me where his father is buried?

  He stopped in front of the massive structure. “Look.”

  He swept his arm at the name.

  “Charlotte Abernathy,” Savannah read. “She died at the age of nineteen. That’s so young. So, this is the cause of the feud?”

  “Yes,” he said, staring hard at the placard.

  “Who was she?” she asked softly.

  He turned and pierced her with his deep blue-eyed gaze. His eyes were filled with tears. “This is the reason I can’t love you. Here lays the love of my life.”

  17

  Her limbs shaking, Savannah stood by the grave of Charlotte Abernathy, the love of Liam’s life. The same warm breeze that tickled her legs earlier, now messed with her hair like a naughty schoolboy, pushing the strands around her face. A crow cawed overhead, breaking the otherwise eerie absence of sound.

  “What happened?” she said softly.

  Liam wiped the tears from his face with an angry swipe of his hand. “We were in love,” he said simply. He kept his gaze pinned to the monument. “Madly, deeply in love.”

  Savannah’s heart clenched. No one will ever stand a chance with him—especially me, the impostor. “I see.”

  “I asked her to marry me. This was around eight years ago. But the Abernathys and the Chartiers…” He let out a cold laugh. “Let’s say there’s not much warmth between the two families. It’s one giant power play. It’s been going on for decades. The Abernathys blood runs with Highland warriors and ruthless nobles. The Chartiers lineage is one of intrigue and secret transactions.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, he continued. “Both families despised the arrangement. I told them naively—much in the same way you declared to me—that it was my life and I could do what I wanted. A lot of facetious smiling and head nodding occurred, while they set out to thwart any happiness I might have.”

  Dumbfounded, Savannah simply stared at him. Is this club for real? This is like the Dark Ages…or, more like war in the Middle East. She fingered her neck, remembering her fear at the threat of being beheaded.

  His mouth twisted into a grim line as he turned to face her. “I’m fairly certain the Abernathy’s killed my father. They hired someone.”

  Savannah gasped. She clasped her hand over her mouth.

  “I can’t prove it, but all the signs are there. And then…” His voice broke. “My family killed Charlotte.”

  Savannah’s heart splintered. She couldn’t imagine a family—any family—being responsible for the murder of their son or daughter’s true love. Tears pricked at her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “Thanks, but…” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard and stared into the distance, perhaps trying to ge
t a grip on his longtime grief. “Again, it’s one of those things I can’t prove, but…you met my Uncle Garron. He’s got a lot of connections in the underworld…in places you don’t want to know about.”

  He let out a deep sigh, before turning to face her again.

  Savannah met his gaze. He’d never looked more vulnerable…or more beautiful.

  “So, that’s why I’m so cold. To you. To anyone with a skirt. I can’t afford to risk my heart. Not after what they did. They may as well have cut mine out and fed it to me.”

  Her eyes stung with tears. “Liam!” She took a step toward him, hoping to offer comfort, but he shook his head.

  “Don’t. I can’t. You seem nice enough. You’re certainly beautiful.” He smiled. “You’ve even made me smile a couple times. But, in the end, you’re a stranger, and you’re who I’m supposed to marry—by arrangements made by my mother and Marcus when we were children. Not who I’ve chosen—but who I’m allowed to marry. This club…they may have broken my life, but I refuse to give them my spirit. And,” he said, giving her a look that split her soul. “If I love you, what’s to say some warring faction might kill you, too? You’ve already been shot at. I won’t have another death on my hands. Not someone who’s as…” He bit back his words, tossing his head back and forth.

  As what? A chill formed in Savannah’s bones. For all her good intentions, she played a part in the Diamond Club deceit game, too. Any feelings she had been developing toward Liam had to stop. This was a mission, nothing more. Her job was to stop a diamond heist, not fall in love. Who have I been kidding? Am I that desperate for a heart connection?

  “Thank you for sharing this with me, Liam.” She said it the way you’d thank the mailman for delivering the mail. “I appreciate it. It makes sense now. I won’t push you to love me.”

  He frowned, appearing taken aback. “It’s not that I’m incapable.”

  She held up her hand. “It’s fine. I’ll leave you for a moment alone with Charlotte.”

  She pivoted and began striding toward the sedan. Her heart tried its best to claw its way out of her throat, wanting nothing more than to disappear. Stupid heart.