by Julia James
‘I am increasingly needed at home,’ Khalid said.
‘Well, it was good of you to come.’
‘Enough small-talk, Ethan.’ Khalid cut straight to the point. ‘What’s going on?’
‘A lot,’ Ethan admitted. ‘And it cannot get out.’
‘You know it will go no further.’ Khalid was one of the few who could be trusted with bombshell news. He would never gossip—Khalid was far too remote and royal for that—and so Ethan told him what had been revealed since his father’s death.
Jobe Devereux’s life had been interesting, to say the least, and had played out in the press for all to see. His sons, Abe and Ethan, had seen it all.
Or had thought that they had.
‘There was an account we didn’t know about,’ Ethan told him.
Khalid listened as Ethan revealed they had found out that Jobe had had a penchant for gambling and showgirls. As it turned out, those long weekends away that Jobe had frequently taken hadn’t always been spent at the Hamptons; instead they had been taken in Vegas.
Sin City.
‘Are there debts?’ Khalid asked, for he always dealt first with business.
Ethan shook his head. ‘No, he was actually ahead, but this wasn’t an occasional thing, Khalid. There were a lot of women, oh, and a marriage we didn’t know about.’
‘A marriage?’
‘Between his first wife and my mother, it turns out he was married to a woman named Brandy for all of seventy-two hours.’
‘Ancient history,’ Khalid dismissed.
‘Perhaps, but it’s ancient history that might resurface tomorrow.’
‘Jobe’s reputation can handle it.’ Khalid’s words were calm and measured as he poured oil on troubled waters. ‘And so can you. Of course, anything that is recent may prove hard on his current partner.’ Khalid checked his facts. ‘He got back with Chantelle before he died?’
‘Not really.’ Ethan held out his hand in a wavering motion. ‘But they were together on and off for quite a few years.’
‘Ethan,’ Khalid calmly responded. ‘Everyone has a shadow side. And that Jobe kept mistresses, and was married briefly, is hardly going to come as too much of a surprise, surely? Jobe led a colourful life and we all know how much he loved women.’
‘Women, yes,’ Ethan sighed, and Khalid could see his friend’s discomfort and knew he was about to hear the real reason he’d been asked to come by in advance of the funeral. ‘For the last four years my father has been sending a considerable monthly sum to an Aubrey Johnson...’
Now Khalid frowned, for this indeed came as a surprise. ‘Jobe was having an affair with a man?’
And on this dark sombre night Ethan actually laughed. ‘No, Khalid. Jobe wasn’t gay.’
‘But Aubrey is a man’s name.’
‘Not here it isn’t, it’s a unisex name. Believe me, Aubrey Johnson is definitely not a man.’
Ethan handed him some photographs.
No, Aubrey was certainly not a man.
She was barely a woman.
Aubrey Johnson had a curtain of blonde hair and china-blue eyes, but her pretty, delicate features were overwhelmed by elaborate stage make-up, with false eyelashes and painted red lips. Her petite, toned figure was shown to effect in a crimson, sequined leotard.
And nothing else.
‘How old is she?’ Khalid asked, his deep voice hoarse with disappointment.
‘Twenty-two,’ Ethan said. ‘She’ll be twenty-three next month.’
Jobe had been seventy-four.
‘She’s a dancer,’ Ethan said.
‘I’m assuming we’re not talking ballroom...’ Khalid started, and then answered his own question as he looked at the next image. From barely a woman to all woman, she wore a tiny, revealing dress and elaborate make-up and his jaw gritted at her provocative pose.
‘She’s also an aerial trapeze artist, apparently,’ Ethan said as Khalid flicked through the photos of Aubrey. ‘Though not a very good one,’
‘Why do you say she’s not any good?’ Khalid frowned.
‘Well, she’s not a big name or anything. Ms Johnson lives in a trailer park and does a routine over the gaming tables. And when she’s not performing it would seem she’s my father’s...’ Ethan couldn’t finish. ‘She was barely eighteen when the payments started.’
What the hell had Jobe been thinking?
Khalid could not stand to think that the man he had so deeply admired would be involved with someone so young. No, he could not accept that from Jobe. ‘Could there be another explanation?’
‘If there is, we’re doing our damnedest to find it.’ Ethan shook his head. ‘But no.’
‘Could she be his daughter?’ Khalid persisted, still not wanting to think the worst.
‘No.’ Again Ethan shook his head. ‘My father was a generous man and if he’d known he had a daughter she would not be living in a trailer park. If the money was for a benevolent reason he had trusts and charities set up for that but the payments to Ms Johnson came from the buried account—he didn’t want anyone to know.’
‘It’s better that you do,’ Khalid said. ‘Before it gets out.’
‘Look, if there’s scandal brewing, Abe and I will deal with it, we just don’t want anything to hit at the funeral tomorrow. We want our father to have a dignified send-off.’
‘Of course.’
‘We’ve made security aware of the names of these women and they are to be kept well back—’
‘No, no,’ Khalid interrupted. ‘You are to let them into the funeral.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Ethan stated. ‘We are not turning Jobe’s send-off into a Vegas show.’
‘Ethan, I thought you invited me here for advice.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Do you want a scene outside with the cameras where you have no control?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then add these women to the guest list. If they arrive, have security watch them and my detail shall keep an eye out too. You focus on saying farewell to your father. And remember, if any of them do turn up it might just be to pay their respects. No one should be denied that chance.’
‘No.’ Ethan let out a long breath, but it hitched when Khalid spoke on.
‘If they are at the funeral they are to be invited back to the private wake.’
‘No way! That really is just for family and close friends.’
‘You don’t need me to tell you to keep your enemies close, Ethan.’
‘And risk his wake being turned into a circus?’ Ethan gave a shake of his head, but he knew Khalid well enough to know that he never offered rash advice and so, rather wearily he nodded. ‘I’ll speak to Abe.’
‘This will all be sorted,’ Khalid reassured him. ‘Your father might have had some secrets, but he was inherently a good man.’
‘I know.’ Ethan nodded. ‘Look, thanks for being here. It would have meant an awful lot to Jobe.’
‘Your father meant a lot to me,’ Khalid said.
With that out of the way, they went through the details for the next day. Khalid’s royal title had been omitted from the order of service at his own request.
‘You’re sure about that?’ Ethan checked, as Khalid stood to leave.
‘Absolutely. That was always the best thing about being here,’ Khalid admitted to Ethan. ‘I wasn’t treated as a prince, or next in line to be King. Here I was just Khalid.’ He grew serious then. ‘Tomorrow you are to focus on remembering your father. Any problems are now mine to deal with.’
Ethan gave a grateful nod, for he knew that Khalid would take care of things.
As formidable as he was to outsiders, Khalid looked after his own.
‘What about you, Khalid?’ Ethan asked as he walked him out of the study.
‘What about me?’
Khalid frowned.
‘If everyone has a shadow side, what’s yours?’
‘You really don’t expect me to answer that, do you?’ Khalid said, and opened the door.
Of course not.
For no one really knew Khalid.
Here the press described him as a playboy, but that was inaccurate for he did not play.
At anything.
His emotions were always kept strictly in check and he allowed no one close to him, even in bed.
Especially in bed.
For his own reasons he had chosen not to have a harem. He loathed how his mother had suffered when his father had taken himself there. How he had taunted her when another infant had been sired and he could tell her the ‘problem’ with her failing to provide more heirs was clearly not his.
Those children had no status and were considered unrelated to Khalid, and he did not want those ways to be his own. So he had rejected the harem, but here in New York he dated sophisticated, experienced women who accepted there would be no feigned tenderness.
It was sex.
Khalid’s absolute lack of affection was paid for in diamonds, gifts and sometimes plain old hard cash.
Tonight he had plenty with him.
Copyright © 2019 by Carol Marinelli
ISBN-13: 9781488044519
Billionaire’s Mediterranean Proposal
First North American publication 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Julia James
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