The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Kaswell, Crystal

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  No limo today. Blake drives a black sports car. It's spotless inside and out. Matches him perfectly.

  Apparently, he wanted to give Jordan the week off. More likely that Blake wanted the privacy. I'd bet good money that no one has ever seen Blake cry, not as an adult, at least.

  The drive is quiet. This late, the roads are empty. Everything is a blur of asphalt and sky. I rest my head against the passenger’s seat door and watch the stars fly by. The farther we get from the city, the brighter they are.

  The suburbs sneak up on me. I blink, and we're parked in front of Meryl's house. Funny, it seems so peaceful.

  He insists on carrying my suitcase. We creep up the steps and into the house. There's a nurse sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He nods to Blake like they know each other.

  "Miss Sterling is resting," the nurse says. "She asked not to be disturbed until eight tomorrow."

  "Thank you." Blake sets our suitcase at the base of the stairs. He turns to me. "You're staying in Fiona's room tonight. Last one on the right."

  "What about Fiona?" I ask.

  "She's coming up in the morning." He brushes the hair from my eyes. "You can stay in my room when she arrives."

  I swallow hard. There's something very nice about sharing a bed with Blake, but that's a quick trip to feelings-ville, that awful place where I'm crazy about him and he "cares about me," or some bullshit like that.

  "I can't kick you out of your room." I slide my hands into my pockets.

  "I insist." He nods to the bedrooms upstairs. "Let me put these away."

  I take a seat at the table, next to the nurse, and offer my hand to shake. "I'm Kat."

  "Vincent." He shakes.

  "How are things? Is she okay?"

  "I can't talk about that."

  Yeah, of course not. Some doctor-patient confidentiality thing. Fair enough. I nod, of course. "You any good at chess?"

  "Not at all."

  "Me either. I might have a chance to win a game without a handicap."

  Vincent checks his watch. "You're on."

  I find the game and set it up on the table. I even give him white. Vincent stares at the board for a minute then moves one of his pawns two spaces forward. Most of his attention is on his coffee. Well, most of his attention is somewhere else entirely.

  Mine, too, but the game is a perfect distraction. I weigh every move like it's critically important.

  The stairs creak. Blake. He sits next to me, rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb as the nurse and I play. Blake’s touch is a perfect bit of comfort. It would be so easy to surrender to it, but I keep my eyes, and my attention, on the game.

  I win. Truth be told, Vincent isn't trying. But a win is a win. Vincent excuses himself, grabs another cup of coffee in the kitchen, and goes to wait in the den. His seat is taken by Blake and he sets up another game.

  "You need a drink?" he asks.

  I shake my head.

  We play in silence. No queen handicap. He discards a rook instead. The game goes slowly. I keep my eyes on the checkered board instead of looking at him. There is too much in his expression. It hurts too much.

  Blake puts me in checkmate. Figures.

  "Play another?" he asks.

  My eyes still on the board, I nod. I focus on my pieces. They're little plastic things, cheap and flimsy. This is one of those chess sets you buy at the drug store for five dollars, but it's served as a distraction for hours and hours.

  I'm more aggressive this game. We start trading pieces quickly. I ignore my endless strategy contemplation and make the first move that comes to mind. It's pure instinct.

  "Check," Blake says.

  "What?"

  "You have me in check," he says. "Didn't you notice?"

  I look down at the board. Holy shit. How did I miss that?

  "You won't get me that easily, Wilder." He laughs.

  Oh, that laugh.

  He moves his queen in front of his king. Figures the stupid king is sacrificing his wife. Asshole king.

  Well, fair is fair. I take his queen. "Checkmate."

  "Now you're paying attention."

  "I was too in the zone to pay attention to you and your wife’s sacrificing ways."

  "It was the best tactical move." His voice is light, joking.

  "You always make the best tactical move, don't you?"

  He takes my hand. "Not if it's a poor long-term move."

  "But that's always it—it's always strategy."

  "It's chess."

  "But it's always strategy with you." I pull my hand into my lap. "Should we play again?"

  "Kat."

  "I'm not discussing this. I'm here for Meryl. Not for you."

  "Reconsider." He stares into my eyes. "We would have a very nice life together. We don't have to rush."

  "Yeah, right, as long as I mention it to your mom tomorrow?"

  "That's not it."

  He reaches for me, my cheek or my hair or something, but I push his hand away.

  I plant my hands on my knees, and I stare back at him. "I'm not marrying someone who doesn't love me. Why would you even want that?"

  "Kat."

  "I'm going to bed." I push off the table and walk up the stairs without looking at him once.

  ***

  The suburbs are damn quiet. Even at our place way out in Brooklyn, New York City is loud. There are taxis, pedestrians, subways rumbling underground. But out here, there's nothing. Not even a fan for white noise.

  I toss and turn. Sleep isn't happening tonight. I shouldn't have spent the afternoon in a state of near unconsciousness.

  There's a soft knock on my door. It's so soft I barely hear it. I push out of bed and answer.

  Blake is standing there. He works this doorframe, too.

  "Come to my room," he says.

  "That's not a good idea."

  "Do it anyway." He slides his hand around my waist and pulls me closer. "You shouldn't sleep alone."

  "I shouldn't sleep with you."

  He presses his lips to mine. "So don't sleep."

  Warmth spreads through my body. It's a compelling argument. I'm not going to get any sleep in Fiona's room.

  I nod. He takes my hand and leads me back to his room. I try to get a look around, but it's too dark.

  The bed is about the same size as the one I have at home. I lie next to Blake with my back pressed against his chest. He brings his arm around my waist and holds me close.

  It should be illegal for someone so bad for me to feel so good.

  It should be illegal for something to feel this much like love when there's no chance of that.

  ***

  Once again, I wake up alone. The room is bright, and there's conversation in the rest of this house. Everyone else is up.

  I brush my teeth and sneak back into Fiona's room to change. The kitchen and living area are empty. The conversation must be in Meryl's room. I pour myself a cup of coffee and hike up the stairs.

  Soft knock.

  Meryl answers. "Come in, dear. Watch your step."

  I push the door open. The room is crowded. A nurse, not Vincent but a woman in her thirties, is in the corner replacing an IV. Blake sits on an ottoman. He looks perfect, the way he always does.

  The nurse makes a signal to Meryl and sneaks out of the room.

  Meryl pats Blake's hand. "Go eat breakfast."

  "I'm fine," he says.

  "And take a shower while you're at it." She makes a gesture like she thinks he stinks. "Right, Kat?"

  "Absolutely."

  He kisses her on the cheek. "I'll give you an hour. I love you."

  "I love you, too," she says.

  Funny, I've never heard anyone in the Sterling family use those words before. No matter. They won't be using them on me anytime soon.

  I move aside to give Blake room to pass. His body brushes against mine, waking up all my tired nerves. Not happening, not today.

  I steal h
is seat. "How are you feeling?"

  Meryl motions to her IV. "Fantastic. This must be half morphine. I'm very comfortable."

  I let out a half laugh, half gasp. Take a long sip of coffee to give myself time to think. "Your room is really clean."

  She laughs. "That's a nice look on the bright side. I like that about you, Kat." Her voice softens. "You're so sweet to come see me."

  She motions for my coffee and I hand it to her.

  "Even if you're in it for the sex." She takes a long sip, her face filling with delight. "You forget the little things in life. They're what matters—the taste of a good cup of coffee, the joy of sex with someone you're mad about—"

  My cheeks go bright red. "Jesus."

  She laughs. "Believe me, honey. Life moves so fast. You've been busy surviving, I know, but you can't forget the little things."

  "Please, no more about sex," I say.

  She returns my cup of coffee. "Okay, the cherry blossoms in the spring." She folds her hands. "Have you reconsidered marrying Blake?"

  "I suppose this is what it would be like if my mom was around—she'd be pestering me about when I was getting married."

  Meryl smiles. "I like you together, but you have to follow your heart. I should have done that. I never would have married Orson."

  "You didn't love him?" I ask.

  "No. He didn't love me, either." She looks out the window, at the bright blue sky. "Maybe you're right to stick to your guns."

  "I'm sure Blake will be happy." I press my fingers into the porcelain mug. "I hope he'll be happy."

  "Make me a promise, sweetheart?"

  "Not until I know what it is," I say.

  Her expression gets serious. "Give my son another chance."

  "Meryl."

  "One date. One chance to change your mind."

  "It's really not fair for you to ask." I stare into my coffee cup. "It's not like I can say no."

  "Like I told you, you have to grab what you want and hold on for dear life." She leans back into her bed. "Now, Blake told me you're applying to schools. I want to hear all about it."

  I go over every single detail about my applications—the deadlines, the portfolio requirements, the different cities where I might end up. I even tell her I have no chance of paying without a scholarship. She listens and responds thoughtfully. It's so nice to have someone looking out for me. Meryl may not be around for long, but she's been great to me. Like the mother I lost way too soon.

  We don't stop until Fiona arrives. I excuse myself and spend the rest of the morning working on another vignette.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Meryl sends us to lunch at a nearby restaurant, insisting she needs the time to visit with her lawyer alone. Fiona excuses herself and disappears in her car. Blake and I eat at a nearby chain restaurant. Not that there's much eating going on. I don't have an appetite.

  We walk there and walk back to the house. Blake holds my hand the whole time. He squeezes it until my fingers turn white. I study his face for any signs of weakness, but there's nothing. He remains steel.

  At home, Meryl is sipping coffee on the couch with Fiona. She mutters something about not wasting away in her bed. We all pretend like she didn't remind us she's dying.

  We pass the afternoon with coffee and cake, reminiscing about easier times. Meryl does everything she can to bring up embarrassing moments from Blake and Fiona's childhood. The room is bright with laughter.

  The sun sets. We order pizza. This meal, everyone has an appetite. We drink too much. Meryl waves her night nurse away, asking him to wait in the den. She rearranges the chess pieces.

  "Fancy losing to your mother?" she asks Blake.

  "No, but I could stand to destroy her," he says.

  "I'll give you a fighting chance and take black."

  Blake laughs. I'm all warm and fuzzy. Sure, Blake doesn't love me, but he's happy. There's life happening all around us. There's a different kind of love all around us.

  They play half a dozen games and Meryl wins every single one. We stay at that table, talking and laughing until the wee hours of the morning. Even Fiona is nice to me. No sign she still wants to get rid of me.

  Meryl hugs me goodnight. "Whatever happens, honey, it's been great getting to know you."

  ***

  I know she's gone the minute I wake up. There's something different in the air—an ugly stillness.

  I throw off the comforter and rush into the hallway. Blake and Fiona are sitting at the kitchen table. She's crying into her coffee cup, and he's comforting her.

  I squeeze the railing. "Is she... did she?"

  Blake looks up at me. He nods. "She died around five this morning."

  My stomach twists. I scratch at the railing. Tiny flakes of wood peel off under my fingernails. Meryl is gone.

  I force myself to breathe. It's not as hard as I thought it would be. She was happy. She was at peace.

  And, whatever happens, it was great getting to know her.

  It really is going to be okay.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Everything is a blur. Blake takes over organizing things. I sit on the couch, staring at my sketchbook like it will offer some comfort. But it's not enough.

  Fiona is a wreck. She stays in her room so no one will see her cry. It's an admirable strategy.

  I manage to sleep a little.

  In the morning, I manage to eat a little breakfast. Drink a little coffee. I manage to get into the black dress I brought for the occasion, just in case.

  I even manage to listen to a few eulogies at the funeral. Well, a few words of them.

  Meryl was a lovely woman.

  A great mother.

  She always told me to find what I want, and grab it, because no one else would give it to me. Because that was the only way I'd ever get it.

  She really was amazing.

  ***

  A man in a suit taps me on the shoulder. In his fifties at least. Very proper looking.

  "Miss Katrina Wilder?" he asks.

  I nod.

  "You're a named beneficiary of Miss Sterling's will. Can you come with me to the reading?"

  "Yeah, sure." My senses catch on slowly. Meryl left me something in her will even though I've only known her a few weeks.

  I'm not about to insult her memory by refusing.

  I follow the lawyer through the chapel's entrance. There's a small office around the back of the building. Blake and Fiona are already inside. No sign of Trey, thankfully. I really can't stand the guy.

  Blake's eyes catch mine. A flutter collects in my belly. It's not the time for nerves.

  The lawyer points to a chair. I take a seat.

  He shifts behind the desk and pulls out a contract. "Mr. Sterling, Mrs. Crane. You know that your mother left most of her estate to charity."

  They nod. Apparently, they know. There are no signs of anger on their face. No signs they find this unfair.

  "But there was a last minute change," he says. "To add Miss Wilder as a beneficiary."

  Irritation flares in Fiona's eyes, but she doesn't say anything.

  "Mrs. Crane, your mother left you the house." He reads a passage from the will. "God knows, Blake isn't going to grace my home with children. Fiona, sweetie, it's yours. Enjoy it with or without your husband."

  A tear rolls down her cheek. She turns away so no one can see her. "Thank you, Larry."

  The lawyer, Larry, I guess, nods. "Mr. Sterling. I'm afraid Meryl left you nothing of material value. Only the antique chess set."

  Fiona laughs but not in a smug way. It's more like she appreciates how much it meant to them. Blake is unreadable, as usual.

  "Miss Wilder, well." He makes eye contact with me. There's a kindness in his eyes. But there's an incredulity, too. Larry looks at the will. He starts to read. "To my new friend Katrina Wilder, I leave two hundred thousand dollars. Sweetheart, I hope you'll use that money for your college education, but it's yours. Just go out and grab what you want."

&nb
sp; My heart skips a beat.

  Two hundred thousand dollars. That can't be right.

  "Miss Wilder." The lawyer is staring at me. "Are you going to be okay?"

  I must be blushing. I must be beet red. Everyone is staring at me. Well, Fiona, Blake, and the lawyer are staring at me.

  Breathing. It's important. Something I need to do. "Can you read that again?"

  He begins. "It's two hundred thousand dollars, Katrina."

  I nod. Two hundred thousand dollars. All the money I need for college.

  Larry continues. "I can go over the details of the charities if you'd like."

  "No, thank you." Fiona stands, brushing her perfect black outfit smooth. "I should get to the house for the memorial." She looks at Blake. "Are you coming?"

  "I'll meet you there." He waits until Fiona leaves then turns to me. "Are you okay?"

  I adjust my dress. "I will be. Are you?"

  "I will be." He stands and offers his hand. "Can we talk?"

  I take his hand. "Okay."

  Blake nods a goodbye to the lawyer and whisks me out of the room.

  ***

  We go to the diner around the corner. It's a greasy spoon place. Vinyl booths. Checked tile floor. Big plates of fried eggs, hash browns, and bacon.

  Blake holds the door open for me. He motions to one side of a long, red booth. The next best thing to pulling out a chair. He really is a gentleman.

  Somehow, he doesn't look out of place here. Even in his two thousand dollar suit. He nods to the guy behind the counter like they're old friends. That must be some freaking skill—fitting in everywhere you go.

  I adjust my dress and cardigan. Both black. Thank God for Blake forcing me to buy all those designer clothes. I'm wearing a nice pair of black pumps instead of those discount pieces of shit that almost broke my ankle. I guess they're responsible for this whole relationship.

  Who would have thought shoes could change your life so dramatically? Especially shitty ones.

  "Is that the Winter Formal dress you mentioned?" he asks, his eyes still on mine.

  God damn, the man has quite the memory.

  "Yeah," I say.

  "You were right. I do like it." He glances at my cleavage—mostly covered by a black camisole. "Though I'd like it better without the under shirt." He raises an eyebrow and cocks a half smile.