Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (48 page)

But things were different now. Now he had Hang Ten, which afforded him the opportunity to help the community he worked and lived in. That’s where the Kevin Matthews Community Center came in. Nick, through Hang Ten, was the benefactor for around seventy percent of their operating expenses. Dean was the center’s director, so Nick knew his money was being put to good use.

Even though Ginny wasn’t, and never had been, thrilled about Nick’s involvement with the center, this was one area where he refused to budge. If Kevin had had some place like the center to spend his free time, rather than the streets and getting mixed up with a bad crowd, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have succumbed to the dope.

Nick’s mission in life was to give the kids a safe haven, so that his brother’s death was not in vain.

And that same gut feeling he’d had about Kevin was now eating him up about Ginny. Nick shook his head and yanked the tie away from his neck.

The door opened and Dean poked his head in. “Didn’t you hear me knocking?” he asked.

Nick huffed. “Sorry.” Holding the tie dangling in the air, he tried, without much success, to laugh.

Dean shuffled into the room and took the tie from Nick. “Here. Let me give you a hand.” Without waiting for an invitation from Nick, he went to work on the tie. “Don’t tell me you’re still worked up?”

“I just…it’s my gut.” Nick tugged at his collar, as if the tie was too tight. “It’s telling me something’s wrong.”

Dean slapped Nick’s hand away. “You’re getting married today. Nothing’s wrong.” Dean finished up with Nick’s tie and turned him toward the mirror. “I think maybe, deep down inside, you feel guilty about being happy. Life goes on. Kevin would want you to enjoy it.”

Nick ignored Dean’s two cents and inspected his handy work with the tie instead. “Not bad,” he said, tugging at the bow.

“Let’s go. You don’t want to be late. Right?”

“Let’s take a little detour on the way to the church.”

Dean studied Nick through squinted eyes. “Where do you have in mind?”

“Let’s just drive by the house and make sure everything’s okay.”

A few seconds of Dean’s obtrusive glare was all it took for Nick to rethink it. But, just in case that wasn’t enough, Dean said, “She’s probably already left for the church. And if you’re late, she’s going to kill you.”

Nick pulled his cell off the dresser and set about texting Ginny. Granted, it was a good idea—okay, better than a drive by—because once she responded, he’d know she was okay, and she wouldn’t be mad about him coming by in person. This traditional wedding idea had gotten a hold of Ginny about six months ago and turned her into a bridezilla. And now, on his wedding day, Nick didn’t want to piss her off. If he did, he’d probably be the first groom in history to be cut off on his wedding night.

Seconds later, a text dinged in. It was Ginny replying:
See you at the church!

Nick looked at Dean and smiled, waving the phone in the air. “She’ll see me at the church.” The text allowed him to breathe a little easier.

Nick grabbed his jacket and followed Dean out of the room, determined to forget about that knot twisting tighter in his gut.

CHAPTER FOUR

Marseilles, France

THE MERCEDES LIMO CRUISED ALONG the motorway while its passengers, Claudette and Maurice, rode in silence. Claudette peered at her reflection in the compact mirror. Not a single strand of her blonde hair was out of place. Granted, she’d taken to having the gray hair dyed out years ago. Her blue eyes still sparkled, and the wrinkles hadn’t overtaken her face too terribly badly—thanks to all those expensive beauty treatments. She’d be fifty in a few years, but all in all, she still looked pretty good.

Claudette cut her eyes toward her husband. Fifty had come and gone for Maurice de Laurent, but he carried his age well. Of course, he’d put on a little weight over the years, but who hadn’t? His jet-black hair had long since grayed. And sometimes, his brown eyes looked tired, really tired. But he was still the handsomest man of her acquaintance.

“What exactly did she say?” His question broke the silence.

“As I’ve told you before…” Claudette closed the compact and slipped it inside her purse. “Lecie is not ready to come home. She’s experiencing life on her own for the first time and she’s enjoying it.”

“I don’t like it.” Maurice huffed and shook his head.

“Of course, you don’t like it.” Claudette laughed. “
You
are not in charge.”

“But I should be.” He growled. “
I
am the head of this family.”

“Just where did you get the idea that
head
means
boss
?”

He ignored her inquiry, saying, “My children have no respect for my wishes.”

“Your children love you, but they’re adults.” Claudette pressed her lips together and looked at Maurice through narrowed eyes. “You need to respect the fact that they’re responsible for making their own decisions.”

Maurice’s head began shaking. “No. We must not allow this to happen.”

Claudette laughed. “And just how are you going to stop it?” She waited for the idea to take root inside his head. “You can’t cut her off. Thanks to you, she has her own money now, and plenty of it.” Claudette rarely missed an opportunity to remind her husband that while meddling in his youngest son Andre’s life, he’d inadvertently set up their only daughter with financial independence, separate and apart from the family.

“I can have her deported.” His eyes brightened.

“You can’t have her deported.”

“I could arrange it.”

“You’re not going to arrange her deportation,” Claudette said, adopting a challenging tone. “I have everything under control. I’m sending Soren’s brother Gerard over to look out for her.”

“Oh, that’s a very good idea,” Maurice said with a crisp nod. “He can send us reports on her activities.”

“No…” Claudette’s tone was soft, yet determined. “We are not spying on our daughter. We are simply looking out for her welfare.” Claudette sucked in a breath, hoping it would calm the fluttery feeling in her chest. It didn’t. “I just don’t want her to get hurt. Or taken advantage of.”

“I want her back here. Back home, where she belongs.”

“Darling…” Claudette’s tone softened. When her husband got like this, there was no stopping him. This called for a newer, gentler approach. “She’ll come home when she’s ready. Until then, all we can do is send Gerard over to make sure she’s safe.”

“Gerard will report back to us.” Maurice said sternly. “If I hear one thing—” His glare hardened as he raised his forefinger. “Just one. That I don’t like. She will return home.” Maurice gave Claudette a dismissive nod. “One way or another.”

Okay
. Claudette had tried reasoning with her husband. Deep down, she’d known it wouldn’t do any good but she had to try so that, in the end, she didn’t end up blaming herself for her husband’s meddling ways.

She would talk to Julian to see if he had any ideas for discouraging his father. If Maurice pushed Lecie too far, Claudette knew she would end up retaliating in true de Laurent fashion.

After all, she was her father’s daughter.

M
aurice de Laurent didn’t like being wrong. In fact, he loathed it. He didn’t like it that he’d lost control of his daughter either. As long as she remained in America, his control would diminish daily. And though he wasn’t willing to admit it, not openly anyway, he had precious little left.

The door to his study sprang open. His three-year-old granddaughter Juliana skipped across the room. Shoulder-length blonde curls bounced in perfect rhythm with her frolicking.

“Poppy!” she squealed, arms outstretched.

Maurice’s heart lit up like a Christmas tree. “Juliana. How are you, my darling?” He scooped her into his arms.

“Fine, Poppy.” She kissed his cheek. “How are you?” she asked with hints of an American accent, which Maurice found completely charming.

“Lovely.” He tapped the tip of her nose and gave her a smile. “Tell me…what is your grandma-ma doing?” He didn’t doubt that Claudette had sent Juliana in to sway him from the temptation of sneaking a drink while he thought everybody was too busy to notice.

“She’s picking flowers.”

Of course she was. Claudette loved the roses. And if that preoccupied her while Maurice devised a plan to get Lecie home, so much the better.

Juliana paused, a thoughtful look overcoming her face. “Poppy?” Her blue eyes lifted up to look at him.

“Yes…” He gave her a smile.

“When is Aunt Lecie coming home?”

Maurice’s heart sank into his gut. “Soon, my dear. Soon.”
If Poppy has anything to say about it
. Maurice sat Juliana on the desk. “That reminds me…” He opened the top right drawer. “Poppy has something for you.”

Juliana clapped.

He brought out a blue velvet jewelry box and opened it. “I thought you’d like something pretty to wear when Aunt Lecie does come home.”

Juliana’s eyes sparkled, almost as much as the diamonds set in the heart pendant hanging on the dainty golden chain.

“Pretty…” Juliana whispered amidst a sigh.

Maurice fixed the necklace around her neck and then helped her down. He stood and clasped her tiny hand in his. “Let’s go find your grandma-ma.” He wanted to know when Gerard was to arrive in California.

The sooner the better.

CHAPTER FIVE

LECIE AND DEIDRA HAD DRAGGED a couple of lawn chairs out to the hillside patio beyond the back lawn. It sat perched on a cliff, just a few steps down on a wooden walkway that twisted and turned and eventually made its way down to the Pacific.

They’d pushed the patio furniture aside, as the lawn chairs were better suited to sunbathing—the girls’ current activity.

Deidra turned over onto her stomach and folded her hands under her chin. “So what happened when your mom called? Should we expect a visit from one, or both, of the brothers de Laurent?” She capped off her inquiry with a hint of laughter.

“Bite your tongue.” Lecie went up on her elbows. “We’re getting a valet.”

“A valet?”

“Yep.”

“Valets help you dress. A guy’s not helping me dress.”

Lecie shrugged. “Well, actually, he’s going to be more like a butler.”

“A spy is more like it.”

“No, I’m taking care of that. He’s going to be employed by
me
, not Papa.”

“Uh huh…” Deidra’s tone held as much certainty as Lecie’s.

“No, I’m serious.”

Deidra blew out an exhaustive sigh. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Mama says that Papa wants to have me deported.” Lecie let the fear clawing at her gut escape in her words.

“Can he do that?”

“That’s what I keep wondering.”

“Well, if we’ve learned anything from your father’s dealings with your brothers—”

Lecie cut her off, “Then the only conclusion we can draw is that Papa is capable of doing
anything
to get what he wants.”

“If you get deported…” Deidra’s words trailed off.

If she got deported
. Just thinking the words made Lecie shudder. Even though Nick Matthews was getting married in a matter of hours, she wasn’t ready to go home.

I
n the passenger seat of Dean’s vintage Mustang, Nick fiddled with the strap of his seatbelt. If only he could’ve spoken to Ginny this morning, but she wasn’t answering her phone. If not for her text message this morning, urging him not to be late, he’d be a ball of nerves right now.

Oh, who was he kidding? He
was
a ball of nerves.

Nick looked out the car window. House after house and their well-manicured lawns streamed by. The redundancy lulled him into an almost hypnotic state. He was glad he wasn’t driving. A knot had cemented in his gut and was getting heavier by the minute.

When they arrived at the church, people were already milling around out front. Dean drove around to the back entrance and Nick glanced at his watch. 2:30. The ceremony was in an hour. Surely Ginny was at the church by now. He glanced around the back lot, where two limos waited in the wings. He felt confident that one of them had brought Ginny to the church.

Dean parked his car by the back door. As soon as he shifted into park, Nick unlatched his seatbelt and opened the car door. Dean cut the engine and was right behind Nick as he opened the door leading into the church.

“Now remember…” Dean coached him. “Don’t go looking for Ginny. She’ll have a cow if you see her before the wedding.”

“I know, I know,” Nick said, and headed into the small room where he’d been assigned to wait for his cue.

Nick entered first, Dean followed and closed the door behind him. “Man, you gotta lighten up.” Dean snorted out one of those condescending laughs of his. “You couldn’t get lucky enough for Ginny to leave you standing at the altar.”

Dean didn’t particularly like Ginny. That was no secret. Nick had hoped he’d ease up on her by now. No such luck.

Nick shot Dean a hard glare. “I’m the lucky one.”

Dean’s sharp laughter bellowed out. Once he’d contained it, he said, “Hardly.” He shook his head. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.” The look on his face said he was wondering if he’d said too much, overstepped his bounds. But as usual with Dean, the end result was always…
what the hell
. He gave a dismissive shrug, adding, “She’s gonna show. She’s gonna show all right.”

Well, once they were back from the honeymoon and everything had settled down, Dean would come around. Nick was sure of it. He looked Dean in the eye, and asked, “Would you go see if she’s here?”

Dean sucked in a breath, held it a minute and then blew it out in an exhaustive sigh. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go confirm that she’s here.”

D
ean slipped out into the hallway. First, he had to find out where they’d stashed the bride. He shuddered. He’d tried to get behind this marriage. He knew his friend was in love. He just wasn’t so sure the feeling was reciprocated. Oh, sure, Ginny put on a good act, but Dean got the feeling that she was more interested in the money Hang Ten made than the proprietor.