Embrace: The Secret Billionaire Asher Christmas Duet, Two (The Dark Christmases Book 9)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  Her jaw dropped, and she swallowed.

  “Remember him?” he asked her.

  Bryn’s pale skin had turned deathly white as she nodded stiffly.

  “I figured the only way Valentine could’ve known about the drugs was if he sent Moore to you. So I checked.”

  She gasped. “Brian was paid by Valentine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you just have a hunch, or have you already confirmed it?” I asked.

  “It’s confirmed.”

  Impressed, I raised my eyebrows, nodding. “That was fast.”

  Jasper shrugged. “It was easy. And what I’ve done about it was easier.”

  “What did you do?” Bryn asked.

  Jasper clamped his lips together and narrowed his eyes. She must’ve known she wouldn’t receive an answer. I’d changed, she’d changed, and so had Spencer, but Jasper hadn’t.

  “So, I can fire Julia?” I asked. I couldn’t wait to send her packing.

  “Monday morning. She’s going to receive a package from you, Asher.”

  I frowned. “A package from me?”

  He sat back in his seat, pushing his steepled fingers against his chin. “Yes, the morality clause in the Valentine trust prohibits funds being used for bribery or extortion, which means Julia is on the verge of losing whatever little she receives from that financial source. And now that we have Penina, it’s a done deal.”

  “Oh no,” I said, shifting abruptly, picturing how that was going to play out. “Leave her out of it.”

  “Do you really think Julia’s going to let Dr. Ross skip off into the fucking sunset?” Jasper asked. “The answer is no. Which is why we have to strike before she does.”

  I closed my mouth, and swallow as my gaze ping-ponged between Jasper and Bryn.

  “Julia is the queen of vengeance and self-dealing,” Bryn said, I suspected in an effort to make me wake up and smell the snake.

  I opened my eyes after absorbing her words, and then nodded.

  “Excellent. The plan is set. Now sell it,” Jasper said. “I also figured out Julia was the one who told Boomer that you and Bryn had murdered Randolph.”

  Shit, he had moved so rapidly to the next subject that my head was still spinning.

  “That makes sense,” Bryn said, shaking a finger. “Because Valentine never knew Father was in a semi-coma for months before he died.”

  “True,” Jasper said. “You want to know who Julia extorted?”

  “Who?” Bryn asked, frowning curiously.

  “The nurse, Laura, and Dr. Carlisle.”

  Bryn and I looked at each other. Suddenly, the dread of telling Penina that my brother, who she never met, was planning on giving her all of Julia’s money had left me. I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat as I saw the incident replay in my head.

  His bedroom at the mansion. The respirator. Father opening his eyes. The beeping going off as he takes his last breaths. To stop the noise, Bryn rushes over and pulls the plugs.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” I ask.

  Her eyes expand, warning me to keep quiet.

  Father is sucking air. We’re aware that Laura, the nurse, should be called into the room. It’s her job to resuscitate him. I refuse to watch my father struggle like a fish out of water. Instead, I keep my curious gaze on Bryn. She wants him dead. I’ve asked her more times than I can remember if Father ever crossed the line with her. She’s always denied it. Watching her, I don’t believe her. She was lying. Father indeed crossed the line with her. How far did he go? She’ll never tell me.

  “I spoke to Nurse Laura. You pulled the wrong plug, Bryn,” Jasper said. “You didn’t kill him. When you two left the room, he was still alive.”

  Jasper said that Nurse Laura’s granddaughter had been abused by Randolph. She had been poisoning him gradually, and that was the reason our father never recovered. Dr. Carlisle was aware of her actions and was an accomplice to them. The doctor also regularly cheated on his wife, and that was how he fell into Julia’s web. She seduced him, and on one drunken, lustful night, got him to admit that Nurse Laura killed Randolph.

  “And he mentioned that one of you pulled the wrong plug, so the family never suspected he’d been poisoned. But I had learned post-autopsy. I thought you poisoned him, Bryn. I never suspected Laura. That was one I missed,” Jasper said then rubbed his top lip, frowning as if he was disappointed with himself. “Nevertheless, Julia twisted the facts for her benefit. Carlisle was paying her to keep quiet, and Boomer paid her for proof of the false accusation she made against the two of you.”

  Shit. Jasper was spot-on about convincing Penina to take Julia’s money. Julia would do anything to remain wealthy, and that meant getting rid of the competition. As far as Julia was concerned, Penina would have to eat or be eaten.

  “But what about the cousin she was supposed to marry, Jasper? The guy who owned the sports team?”

  “Brandon Valentine?” Jasper asked.

  “Is that his name?”

  Jasper nodded. “He caught her embezzling money out of his business accounts but couldn’t prove it because she’s so fucking slick.”

  Bryn sniffed. “But you can prove it, can’t you Ace?”

  Jasper smiled big. “You better believe it. And we’ll use it when we need it.”

  When our meeting ended, I called Penina. She was on a private airplane with Greg Carroll, on the way to see her mother in Madison, Wisconsin. Next, I placed a call to Nestor, the investigator I hired to assist Penina’s aunt’s investigator. He gave me the report on Mary Ross. It had been a long time since I flew in one of the family’s fleet of aircrafts, but I booked a flight, and not long after, I was on my way to get my woman.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Penina Ross

  The airplane raced down the runway, pinning us to our seats. Even as we climbed into the sky, Greg and I sustained our stare down. He was wrong to gloat about a perceived blip in my relationship with Asher. Asher would understand that I had to leave. I would see my mother, and that would suffice. One look—that’s all.

  “Don’t worry. I’m on your side, not his,” he said finally.

  I rolled my eyes. “There are no sides. Asher and I are on one side, together, the same side.”

  “So, what’s going on, anyway? What’s up with your mother?”

  A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach, and I pressed a hand over my navel. I stared into Greg’s eyes, deliberating whether I should share or not. A line would be crossed if I chose to do it. However, there was no need to fool myself. I’d lost all credibility as Greg’s doctor the moment I chose to drive his Hummer and ride in his airplane. My judgment was off, and I wondered why.

  I shook my head and gazed out the window. It was still light out, but clouds were thick beneath the aircraft. “It’s personal.”

  “Oh, come on, Penina. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “You’re my patient.”

  “I was your patient. You healed me.”

  I turned to see how he looked when he said such a thing. His grin was stretched from ear to ear.

  Wanting to say it, I sighed. I wanted to get it off my chest. “My mother has changed her name, remarried, and started a brand-new family.”

  Greg’s features expanded. “Wow, that’s fucking awful.”

  I went on to tell him about my upbringing and how my mom had dragged me from one rat- and roach-infested hovel to the next—and in front of the occasional letch, who hoped my mom was willing to sell me for her next hit.

  “She never would’ve done that. At least that’s one thing I’m grateful to her for.”

  Then I told him about how I came to be. As a runaway, Mary was sexually abused by a man named Arthur Valentine.

  “The Arthur Valentine? The one who’s serving time for raping and sexually exploiting little girls for over three decades?”

  I was shocked that he knew about the notorious Arthur Valentine and when I hadn’t until a few days ago. I’d been spending far too
much time in a hospital, detached from anything outside the world of medicine. But finally, I was no longer a resident. Soon, and as early as the next day, I would be joining the real world again. I would make it a point to learn all there was to know about society.

  “Yes,” I said with a sigh. “That guy.”

  “Wow,” he said, rubbing his chin. “That’s heavy.”

  “Tell me about it.” I let my head fall back as I groaned. “But let’s stop talking about the past and discuss the future.”

  He smirked. “Our future?”

  I sniffed, rolling my eyes. “Sort of. Monday morning, I’ll call the Voyagers’ front office and ask—”

  His hands shot up. “Hold up there. You’re talking about me. I’m talking about you. What are you going to do when you see your mother?”

  Suddenly, I felt numb inside. “Nothing. I’m just going to look at her and leave.” The hardness of my heart made my ears burn.

  “Just a look? You’re not even going to say, ‘Fuck you’?”

  I set my jaw. “Don’t need to. But I want to see it all—the house, the kids, the husband, the minivan, all of it.”

  Greg snorted. “You’re envisioning a utopia, huh?”

  The answer was yes, but I didn’t want to admit it, because I was sure he wouldn’t understand why I knew that to be true, so I shrugged.

  Greg readjusted in his seat and stretched his massive neck from left to right. “The first time I was hit hard, playing football, I was eleven. A big kid named Webber Smith nailed me good. My helmet flew off, and when my head slammed into the ground, I saw a white light and felt nothing. I thought I was dead, but then everything came into focus. Pain was pounding in my head, blood gushing from my nose.

  “My dad was one of the assistant coaches. He asked, ‘You okay?’ That look in his eyes—” Greg gazed at me, but his eyes were unfocused. “I knew what to say to make him proud of me. And I wasn’t going to have him ashamed of me. I nodded. He slapped me on the back and told them to clean me up, and somehow, I fucking finished that game.”

  Riveted by his account, I gulped.

  Greg cleared his throat. “That night, I felt death trying to take me. But I’d take a hit from Hercules to get an ‘atta boy’ from my father.

  “In high school, the hits got harder. College, they got worse. And now, each one feels possibly life ending. I hated the shit then and even more now. Training starts the end of next month, and I’m dreading it. My dad is going to be calling the front office, asking for favors and shit. Asking about my training plan. You know who he is, don’t you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know who anyone is. I spend too much time in a hospital.” I smiled tightly, thinking of how pathetic that sounded.

  “Randy Carroll, head coach of the Miami Sun Lords.”

  He paused to see if that name rang a bell. I shook my head again because it didn’t.

  “You know who I’d be if I wasn’t trying to make Randy happy? A fucking farmer. I like making shit grow. They call me the wall of steel. But this body”—he slapped himself on one shoulder and the other, and the sound of muscle being smacked filled the air—“it’s not mine. It’s fucking heavy, and I fucking can’t stand it. That’s why I take whatever the fuck they give me. Those supplements that messed with my brain, they bulk me up. I’m telling you this, Penina, because if you think being raised by two parents is the litmus test for having a happy, normal life, then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

  I could tell Greg was rattled by what he had shared with me in the same way I had been after recounting my childhood.

  I swallowed to moisten my tight throat. “I know that,” I whispered. “Sometimes when I’m wallowing in self-pity, I forget it.”

  We smiled gently at each other as the pilot announced that we should prepare for landing in ten minutes. I almost felt like a fool for being in Madison, Wisconsin, stalking Lizzie Thompson, who used to be Mary Ross.

  “It’s not self-pity,” Greg said. “It’s just how it is. See, they want to make us feel ashamed of feeling the bad shit. But you went through it. I went through it. And that’s it.”

  I nodded. “You’re really a smart guy. You know that?”

  He winked. “That’s why I like smart girls.”

  I sniffed, shaking my head. The guy was relentless.

  “Think about it,” he continued. “You and me in bed on a Sunday afternoon, having long conversations about deep shit, fucking like rabbits.” All his teeth showed when he smiled. They were all white and pristine. He took very good care of them.

  “Okay, I’ll think about it.” I closed my eyes. I really gave it a go, picturing the shower from that morning. I saw myself lying on the bench, two strong arms curled around my thighs. The biceps weren’t extra large, but they were muscular. Wet skin against skin. The softness, heat, stimulation against my clit. The tingling in my inner thighs. Extreme pleasure expanding through my pussy. I whimpered and sucked air. One sensation built on top of the next, bringing me to a full blast of orgasm. And when I looked up, steadying my breast, gazing into the eyes of the one who made me feel that way, I saw a color as blue as the Caribbean Ocean as seen in a travel brochure and just as alluring.

  “I love him,” I said finally. “I love his face, his voice, his gait, his smell, his intensity, the way he handles a scalpel—that’s sexy. He’s fun. We like to dance and laugh together. He’s promising. When I think of loving Asher Christmas, I can give it all up for an apple farm and babies.” I opened my eyes again. “I love him.”

  Greg cleared his throat. “Then he’s a lucky man,” he whispered.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Penina Ross

  Greg and I were in a rented SUV. I had never gone from an airplane to a rented car so fast in my life. When we’d disembarked, we walked down the ramp into a private terminal and out the door. Since we had no luggage, we went straight to the big black Suburban that was waiting for us.

  I looked up at the sky before we got in. The clouds were thick, gray, and foreboding. Streaks of lightning raced through the air, and I jumped when I heard a boom. The dreariness added to the fact that I felt as if I were living in the world of a video game or a bad futuristic film in which everyone died in the end. What was happening didn’t feel real at all.

  Greg asked me to program the address into the navigational system. He turned the air conditioning on full blast. Even though the evening was dark, it was hot and muggy too. As soon as the address was in and Greg pulled away from the curb, the heavens opened, and it started to pour. Water crashing down onto the roof intermingled with the pop music that Greg turned up way too loud for my taste.

  I bit down on my back teeth to keep my chin from trembling. Watching the trees as we passed them by, I wondered what in the hell I was thinking. It wasn’t too late to abandon my mission. It seemed Greg had quit flirting after I passionately revealed how much I loved Asher. He was quiet, and I liked not having to converse with him or anyone else at the moment.

  Taking the opportunity to bargain with myself, I decided that all I needed to see was the house—or maybe only her face. I didn’t want to see the kids or her respectable husband. Is she still fucked up?

  Suddenly, the music was turned off. “So, how are you feeling?” Greg asked.

  Hugging myself tight, I turned to him. His gaze was distant, yet he seemed to be searching for something in my expression—something lost.

  “Scared,” I mumbled.

  “We can go get a hotel room, and you can do this tomorrow.”

  “No,” I said emphatically. “I have to be back in New Orleans by tonight.” I wanted to call Asher again, but I also didn’t want to hear how angry my decision had made him. I wasn’t ready to admit I was wrong for taking off without thinking it through. And with Greg Carroll too.

  “You do see the weather, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. What about it?” I asked, clutching my stomach.

  He glanced at me then did a double take. “Are
you okay?”

  The navigation system told Greg to take a right on Cherry Street. I remembered the address by heart—1298 Cherry Street. We were near.

  I opened my mouth to answer him but found that I couldn’t breathe—no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t.

  “Penina?” he asked, trying to watch the road and me.

  I clutched my throat. “Pull over,” I strained to say, tugging at my shirt and ripping the buttons open. I needed air, fresher than what was coming out of the vents.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Greg said, sounding panicked.

  As soon as I could feel the car was no longer in motion, I shoved open the door. Falling onto my knees on a stranger’s lawn, I gasped for air. But the humidity and heat made my breathing worse. My head was spinning, and my body was tense. I thought I might die.

  It didn’t take long for Greg to be right by my side, coaching me to calm down and breathe. I tried to come to the awareness that I was having a panic attack so that I could stop myself. The next thing I knew, I broke down sobbing.

  “I can’t,” I kept repeating. “I can’t see her.”

  “You don’t have to,” Greg said, holding me tight. “We can get back in the car, get back on the airplane, and get the hell back to New Orleans. You like that?” He looked me straight in the eyes, trying to get me to hold eye contact with him.

  Calm yourself, Penina.

  I didn’t nod or say yes, because I didn’t know if I truly wanted to abandon my mission. Something inside me still had to see her.

  “Could we sit for a moment?” I asked.

  Just then, lightning streaked through the sky as thunder boomed. I could finally feel the wet grass soaking through my pants.

  I shot to my feet. “Maybe not.”

  Perhaps the thunder and the discomfort from being wet were signs that I should get as far away from Cherry Street as possible.