The Billionaire's Secret: A BWWM Romance Mystery (26 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Carter

Greg is
going to be my brother-in-law very very soon. And the fact that Cammy loves him
is the only thing that is keeping me from killing him right now.

"You
have all of this unused real estate on the southwest side of the island,"
he is saying. He wavers slightly and grips both the railing and his cocktail
glass a little harder. Cammy is staring at him in mute horror, but she's too
sweet to tell him to shut the fuck up and I want to see just how far he is
going to take this. "This is a serious business proposal, Carter. I could
have you an offer in writing by close of business today. Seriously, you're
sitting on a gold mine right here. With the natural harbor, we could market it
to the yacht crowd, a cluster of exclusive villas with your property right here
as the main hotel on the premises. I'd have to clear the final numbers with
headquarters, but conservatively, I'd say you'd be able to increase your
investment here tenfold...at minimum."

He
finally shuts up, clearly pleased with himself as he stares into the waves. I
decide to count to ten, for my sister's sake, before I flatten him.

"Greg,"
Cammy's voice is simultaneously softness and steel.

Greg's
drunken focus settles on my sister. She is standing on my deck in a simple
white dress, barefoot and barefaced. To my eyes, she looks like the same little
sister I've always had, but it's clear when Greg looks at her that she is way
more than that. As she raises her eyebrows, his face shows an array of
emotions, starting with confusion and then ending up with slow, dawning horror,
then finally sober regret.

"Ah,
shit. I'm a complete asshole, aren't I?"

I don't
answer him, but I do unclench my fists a little.

Greg
smears the palm of his hand down his face. "Carter, shit. I'm am really
sorry. I was on that business trip for so damn long I forgot how to be a human
being.
 
I only know how to speak in
deals now." He peeks out from between his fingers. "Thanks for not
decking me."

"He
wouldn't do that," Cammy pipes up, fixing me with that same steely gaze.
"Would you, Carter?"

"Of
course not," I say as I shake my hands out. "No hard feelings."
I extend my hand, and Greg takes it eagerly. I swear I see him checking over my
shoulder to make sure Cammy sees us making up.

"Thank
you," Greg says, pumping my hand up in the enthusiastic manner of a real
estate mogul. "I really thought you were going to punch me out there for a
moment."

I feel
Cammy's hand on my shoulder as she peeks at her husband to be. "I wouldn't
have let him, Greg." She pats me reassuringly. "Or at least I
wouldn't have let him hit you too badly."

Now
that the tension has passed, I feel silly. "Okay, okay, I'm not a fucking
psychopath or anything. I'm not just going to snap and kill someone just for
suggesting that I, I...I don't know. Get over my pathological fear of people,
or something."

"You're
not afraid of people, Carter." This is a familiar refrain, one that my
sister has been singing since the day after we buried our parents. "You
are having a legitimate anger response to the way Mom and Dad died."

I
bristle. "You don't need to be my therapist, Cam. I have a call in to Dr.
Kaplan already. I'm being a good boy."

Greg
cocks his head to the side. "Hey, so I'm more than a little buzzed here
and my mouth has already gotten me in trouble once, but can I just say
something here?"

"Go
ahead," I growl.

"Granted
I don't know all the details here and whatever, but from what Cammy has told
me, this whole freakout you had?" I feel my fists clench and I know he
sees it, but he soldiers on, in too deep to not see his babbling all the way
through. "It actually seems to me that rather than this be some sort of
setback or reason to call your therapist and all that stuff, that you actually
just made huge
progress
. "

"Greg,"
Cammy says warningly.

He
throws up his hands. "No, just hear me out here. You never met this
Sanniyah person before." He gestured at Cammy. "You trusted Cam with
her decision to hire her, and you allowed her to visit Annika without running a
billion background checks or whatever you usually do when you hire people to
work here."

"I
run a billion background checks," I confirm under my breath.

Greg
nods. "You trusted she'd be okay. And...unless I'm wrong here...you, er,
found her company to be quite...enjoyable."

"Greg!"
Cammy is blushing but I have to laugh.

"I
did...." I concede.

"You
liked her?"

"Yeah,"
I grunt. Flashbacks of her naked body writhing on my sheets send a little
shockwave right down to my groin.

"And
until she left all in a huff, you had almost settled on maybe, just maybe,
pursuing something with her?"

Cammy
turns to me, her mouth agape. "You were really ready?" she sounds
triumphant.

I sink
back down onto the deck chair and bury my head in my hands. "I'm fucking
tired of this life, Cam. I really, truly am done with this. The guys that did
it...they're in jail...right? They're not getting out for a long time."

"And
you're doing such a good job with Annika's Law, too. Dennis told me that he's
bringing it to the floor next time Congress is in session." Cammy adds
softly. "He's got bipartisan support now, did he tell you? There's almost
no way you can lose right now. And once it's passed, you can take pride in
knowing that you're keeping other people's lives safe and private."

I nod.
This will be my legacy, more than my company, more than my wealth. Annika's Law
will change the landscape. Stiffer sentences for harassment, the ability to sue
tabloids for libel, the ability to copyright one's own image... all stuff that
would have helped save my parents two years ago. It was what I could do to
preserve their memory and try to make some sense out of a senseless tragedy.

"So
really, man. You need to stop thinking of yourself as broken because you are
clearly not." Greg claps me on the back and I feel the urge to deck him
fighting with the desperate desire to believe him. "You took a chance on
this Sanniyah chick, and you came out...okay."

"Okay,
huh?
 
I guess that's the best I can
hope for," I chuckle ruefully.

"Not
true," Cammy pipes up. "More than okay. You did it, Carter. You made
a connection with someone."

"And
then she left me," I point out.

Cammy
cocks her head to the side, once more looking and sounding exactly like our
mom. "So get her back, you dolt," she grins. "Tell you what, I'm
supposed to see her tomorrow anyway. She's taking me dress shopping. I'll see
if I can put in a good word for you, okay big brother?"

I feel
the rush of air whoosh out of my lungs and with it the residue of my fear.
Instead there is only excitement. The thrill of the new that made me an
"innovator" in the first place. "Okay," I tell her. "Let's
give it a shot."

She
smiles broadly and Greg claps my back again. "Aren't you glad I ignored
you when you said to fire her?" Cam snickers.

I roll
my eyes at my sister. "You're a pain in my ass," I tell her as I
catch her roughly into a hug. "Love you, Cam."

"Love
you too, idiot," she tells my shirt.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sanniyah

At
3:24AM, the doctor came out and spoke to my mother. She sagged against the wall
and nodded several times, then turned to me. "Yahya, go home honey. He's
okay."

I
headed home and tossed and turned for a few hours before getting up again.
Hungover with both grief and alcohol, I now regard the wreck of my reflection
in my warped bathroom mirror.

I look
sallow, with dull, swollen eyes. I quickly down two glasses of water, feeling
them roil through my tenuous belly, then step into the shower and let the hot
water rain about my shoulders.

Otis is
okay, but it is the degree of "okay" that has me still in shock. When
I saw him in his hospital room, he was sleeping, but the pronounced droop of
the left side of his mouth made it clear that he was not the same. "He's
lost the left side of his body," the nurse explained. "He's going to
have to work hard to get it back."

My
mother's words ring through my memory. "He's been working so hard for so
long...."

Mentally
I shake myself. I have an appointment at ten this morning to help Camilla with
her wedding dress. She texted out of the blue at six in the morning to confirm,
which struck me as rather odd, but I jumped to reply. After the debacle with
Carter, I am surprised she hasn't fired me yet. But if anything, Camilla seems
even more eager to see me than I am to see her.

"Sanniyah!"
She greets me with a hug that startles me, and almost sets me to crying again.
She is so warm and genuine, and I feel as fragile as an egg.

"It's
so good to see you again," I tell her, feeling truly touched by her
reaction.

"I'm
happy to see you too," she smiles. "I need some expert guidance here.
I'm not used to
fancy."

"To
be honest, neither am I." I look at her and widen my eyes in mock horror.
"Whoops, probably shouldn't have told you that."

 
She laughed, then spreads her hands in
mock submission. "Okay, let's do this."

 
Kaufman's is the most exclusive bridal
salon in the downtown area, and I figured that, despite Camilla's protests to
the contrary, it would most fit with her budget and tastes.

The
entryway is through a heavy wooden door, more fitting for a ski lodge than a
storefront. But once I'm inside, I can see why the owners chose to wall
themselves off from the dirty streetscape below. The interior is all soft tones
of blue, with tinkling spa music played in through hidden speakers. Black clad
salespeople swish silently passed us, ferrying armloads of white dresses to the
private dressing rooms, where, presumably, eager brides are receiving treatment
that would fit royalty.

I sneak
a quick look at Camilla, who is standing stock still, a fearful smile frozen
across her face, her arms held stiffly at her sides. She looked terrified.

"May
I help you?" The receptionist's voice is barely above a murmur, so it
takes me a moment to register that she is speaking to us.

"Easton,"
I step in smoothly, when Camilla shows no sign of answering. "We have an
appointment at ten."

"Yes,
of course," the receptionist eyes are sparkling, and I know the Easton
name means something to her. "I've put you with Veronica, one of our most
experienced associates. Can I get you anything to drink, some champagne
maybe?"

I look
back at Camilla, who still resembles a deer in the headlights. "Yes,
champagne might be exactly what we both need."
Hair of the dog that bit you
I think silently,
Lord knows it can't make the pounding in my head any worse.

The
receptionist ushers us back to an expansive private dressing room, tricked out
with a lavish three-way mirror under a spotlight, with a wooden platform set in
the center where the bride can stand to show off for her assembled audience.
There is an elegantly carved armchair in the corner, and along the back wall sits
a tufted loveseat. Camilla and I sit down on that; Camilla perched at the edge
like she's ready to run.

She
needs a distraction, I think to myself. "So we haven't talked about
this," I start. "I know it's an island wedding, destination. When I
went to visit the… " I couldn't bring myself to say Carter's name,
"Wedding site… I was picturing a beach wedding. Is this what you're
thinking too?"

Camilla
nods, still wide-eyed. Her eyes are bright and shiny, like she is close to
tears. Hurriedly, I change the subject.

"Well,
I don't know why they're making us wait like this." I stand up in stride
to the door, poking my head out. "Excuse me," I flag down a
dress-laden associate. "We are waiting for Veronica?"

"Of
course of course," she smiles unctuously at me, and gestures over her
shoulder to a closed room. "Veronica is just finishing up with another
client."

I
narrow my eyes. "But we have an appointment," I say crisply.

The
associate shrinks back from my glare. "I'll go tell her you are
waiting," she says hurriedly, then turns on her heel to trot over to the
far off dressing room.

I turn
back with an exasperated huff, only to find Camilla watching me with a strange
smile on her face. "Was I too harsh?" I ask her.

"No,"
she shakes her head vigorously. "In fact, I was just wondering if I could
hire you to get other things done in my life."

I laugh
and shake my head; "Wedding planning really is the only part of my life
where I am this effective."

She
cocks her head and gives me a sly look." Really?"

"Really,"
I say definitively, sagging back into the loveseat. "Everything else is
kind of in a shambles right now."

Camilla
is interrupted from answering by a soft knock on the door. "Camilla
Easton?" The associate has finally shows up. I sigh with relief, but
Camilla only looks more frightened. Veronica moves like a ballet dancer, all
loose-limbed and lithe, her dark brown hair caught up in the severe bun at the
crown of her head. Her perfect complexion is as pale as a ghost, with only a
slight wing of eyeliner at the corner of each eye. The effect makes her look
unnervingly like a cat.

Since
Camilla isn't moving, I rise to my feet. "Veronica, thank you for seeing
us. My name is Sanniyah Jones. I'm Miss Easton's wedding planner."

Veronica
slides her hand into mine without shaking it, as if she expects me to kiss it
instead. I instantly dislike her. "Miss Easton is planning a beach wedding
for early October. We'd like to try on a few styles to start - strapless,
A-line would be best I am thinking, but we are open to your input."

 
Veronica blinks slowly, fixing Camilla
with a laserlike stare that, if Camilla wasn't nervous before, would have
definitely set her on edge. The way she scans her up and down puts me in mind
of a robot. Her eyes are just as dead.

Finally
she seems to blink to life. "I have some ideas in mind," she says
coolly. "Make yourselves comfortable. Did you get your drink?"

"Actually
no," I tell her, equally as cool. "The receptionist said she would
bring it and never did."

"I'll
see that you get it."

"Please
do." I don't know why I am feeling so angry with this perfect stranger.
Maybe it's because she seems hell-bent on deliberately intimidating my
sensitive client. But I am ready to pull her hair.

When
Veronica closes the door, Camilla lets out a huge exhale and that is the last
straw. "We don't have to stay here," I remind her. "If you are
uncomfortable, then we can just leave."

Camilla
twists her wedding ring around and around her finger. "No, no we made the
appointment, we should stay." But her voice is wavering, the slight tremor
in the back of her throat telling me that she's lying.

"Okay,
I hear you," I tell her. "I'll be the bad guy here."

I throw
open the door and march to the back of the store, ignoring the wide-eyed
protests of the receptionist. "Veronica? Yoo hoo, Veronica?"

Veronica
slides out from the rack of dresses she is leafing through and raises a
perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Veronica,
I am so sorry, but Miss Easton has been called away. We have to go."

"Oh
well, I am sorry to hear that!" It's startling how quickly Veronica veers
from icy cool to overly sweet. "Let me get my appointment book and we'll
definitely reschedule you for as soon as it's convenient."

I know
this trick. "If Miss Easton wants to come back, I will call and make the
appointment at that time. Thank you." I swivel on my heel and head
straight back to Camilla who is sitting stock still in the dressing room.

"We
can go, honey," I tell her.

Her
eyes shine wetly for a moment, and then she bursts into tears. I stand for a
moment, shocked at her reaction, and then I sit down next to her. I don't know
what to do with my hands, so I settle on patting her knee quietly as she blots
at her eyes with a tissue.

"I'm,
suh...sorry," she quietly gasps. "This...this is harder than I
thought." She takes a deep breath and collects herself. "My
mother," she whispers. "It's not that I don't appreciate you being
here with me..."

It
clicks into place. "But I'm not the one you envisioned doing this
with."

She
presses her lips together in a tight line and looks down at her hands. I reach
out and cover them with mine, and she grips me tightly before her face crumples
and she is bawling again.

"I
am so sorry, here are your drinks right now...." The receptionist freezes
in the doorway at the spectacle before her.

"Put
them on the table there," I snap as Camilla hides her face in my shoulder.
"Thank you."

When
the door closes again, Camilla barks out a strange little laugh. "My
mother would have had her head for not knocking," she says, her chest
hitching slightly. "She was big on manners and politeness."

My mind
flashes to Carter and the polite facade he wore just before he started kissing
me and I shiver slightly. "She sounds like a great lady."

Camlla's
eyes go far away, fixed at a point over my shoulder. "She was. I'm shy,
always have been, and she was my protector. I had a terrible stutter growing
up, and people would just gloss over me rather than listen to me struggling to
talk.
 
My mother went to bat for me
a million times, speaking up for me when I couldn't find my own voice."
Her eyelashes flutter slowly. "Carter tries to do the same now. I know he
wants to have the wedding at his place to make up to me somehow that my dad and
mom can't be there. He blames himself so badly."

Her
words are hitting me in a sore, hurting place. It's all I can do to nod and
keep my own tears from falling.

"Carter
wants to be mom, and dad, and my brother all at the same time, because he
thinks it's his fault that mom and dad were killed." She says this idly,
like it's information that I should already know, but I am thunderstruck.

"How
could it be his fault?" I blurt, then redden for prying into her personal
grief.

Camilla's
eyes move to mine. "Because the paparazzi thought they were chasing
him."

I
blink. It's like her words are bouncing off of me, hitting me again and again
until I can't do anything but clutch my belly in submission. Suddenly things
seem to slide into place.

"Which
is why he lives alone on that island now," I realize. "He feels safe
there."

Camilla
nods her head.

Just
then the door swings wide open. Seven women burst through, shouting loudly in
Italian at one another. They all fall comically silent when they see Camilla
and me sitting there, tear-streaked and clutching each other.

I rise
with as much dignity as I can muster. "Sanniyah Jones, wedding
planner," I smile, brandishing my card. "I'd love to help you plan
your special day. Miss Easton and I are all done here, I hope you find the
one!"