Stolen Hearts: A Dark Billionaire Collection

by Elizabeth Knox

  “Morning, Bunny.” Jordan mutters, yawning at the same time.

  I smirk, not even complaining about him using my old pet name. “Morning,” I think about saying something else, but stop myself. I have so many questions I’ve never had the courage to ask, but maybe now isn’t the right time.

  Jordan turns over on his side, places his hand on my hip and stares into my eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

  I’d be shocked if we were on a first date or had just met, but knowing one another means he’s read every chapter in the book that makes me who I am. “I hate how you do that.”

  He cackles, “Yeah, best you get over it.”

  “I’m going to ask you something and I need you to be honest. Promise me you won’t give me some bullshit, alright?” I say, not wavering my eyes from his own. If we start this off again with a lie, I’ll never be able to trust him.

  “I promise.”

  “Why is there so much danger that surrounds the Steele family? I don’t understand it. I can tell there’s something you’re not telling me, and I’ve felt this way for such a long time.”

  “I knew this day would come and I’d always planned about lying to you when it came to the bitter truth about my family. But I can’t do that. In fact, I won’t. And I need you to know that I’m not going to lose you again, Lace. Even if you fight me every step of the way I’m going to make sure at the end of every day you’re in my bed, by my side in every aspect. More importantly, I need you to fully understand I’m going to protect you.”

  The last bit of what he said causes my heartbeat to quicken a bit. I take a gulp, “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re going to protect me? So, there is dangerous stuff that surrounds your family?”

  Jordan nods, “We have a successful enterprise and invest in a lot of legitimate businesses, but that isn’t the only business we have. Our father started another type of business back in the 1970s.”

  I don’t even try to mull around in my mind, thinking of what it could be. “Please continue.”

  “We’re gunrunners, Lacey. We transport guns for various mafias, motorcycle clubs and anyone else who needs them. We’ve also moved into selling them as well as of recent. Allow me to apologize for holding this back for so long, but it’s something I didn’t feel you needed to know until recently, especially if we’re rekindling our romance.”

  The overall shock of what Jordan has just said is too much for me to take. Almost as if he’s a record on repeat I keep hearing what he said over and over again. But the realization is what hits me the hardest— they’re criminals. They act in illegal activities as a huge way to make their income. Fuck. Can I handle that? I knew it was something big, but never did I anticipate it would be something like this. I honestly don’t know what to think right now.

  “W-what do you do in t-that part of the b-business?” I stammer out my question, nervous about what I’ve just asked.

  “Do you really want to know?” The one thing that frustrates me more than anything else is when someone answers a question with a question. Jordan runs his hand along my hip and over my leg in a soothing fashion.

  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” I snap back, frustrated with how he responded. The suspense is agonizing.

  “I’m the one who organizes the transactions.”

  “So . . . you’re the one who picks and chooses who to do business with?”

  “Ah, not exactly. We do business with everyone, Lace. It’s how we remain impartial and stay in business. We’re simply a third-party contractor.”

  “To their wars . . . and whatever else they’re doing.”

  “In more or less terms, yes. You sound like you have a big problem with it.” I open my mouth in shock at what he’s just said. Of course, I have a fucking problem with it.

  “I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, Jordan.” I retort, rolling my eyes as I turn and get out of bed. My robe is on the armchair next to my bed so I slip it on, feeling the need to cover myself up.

  “What do you want me to do, Lace?”

  “That’s easy to answer, leave it behind. Stop doing it. If you want this to work between us, you need to do that.”

  Jordan jumps up out of bed. There’s a good ten or so feet between us as he glares at me from across the room. “Ultimatums aren’t cute, Bunny. You’re smart enough to realize there is no leaving this business. Logan has been trying to move more of our assets in the hopes that we can, but the moment we do we’ll all be dead. We know too much to live strictly civilian lives. He has this elaborate dream for us to legitimize our businesses, but it won’t happen and when he realizes it I’ll be the one taking over the darker one.” Wow. Jordan just subtly confessed Logan is in charge of it for now but he’ll be the one to be the boss at some point. This is mind boggling.

  “Who would kill you?” I question, not understanding his logic.

  “Whichever one of our clients got to us first,” Jordan instantly responds, “I’m not trying to be crass but you need to understand things aren’t that simple. I can’t leave. None of us can.”

  “This feels like some fucked up nightmare,” I confess, speaking lowly. I don’t know what I’m going to do, or how I’ll react but I need some time. I need to be able to process this without him being around. “I . . . can you leave? I need time alone. This is all . . . so much.”

  “Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.” Ah, crap. I forgot I’m now Jordan’s assistant. This will be fucking great.

  Jordan walks around the bed and presses a chaste kiss to my lips.

  “Please don’t tell anyone about this . . . about what we did.” I ask. After one thing got out now I’m a bit nervous.

  Jordan draws his brows together and lets out a soft chuckle. “We’re both adults. Why does it matter?”

  “It matters because I’m asking you not to say anything. That’s all the reason you should need.”

  Jordan holds his hands up in surrender, “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

  He walks out of my bedroom after getting dressed and I dread how I’m supposed to be going to my abuela’s house this evening for dinner. It’s Sunday after all. Oh well, I’ll text her and say I’m feeling a little under the weather but I’ll bring up the babysitting thing to her and plant that idea in her head. Christian and Selena really need the help.

  Chapter Ten

  “She’s proof that you can walk through hell and still be an angel.”

  ~ R. H. Sin

  Jordan

  The elevator is stuffed with stuck up suits, too much cologne and perfectly done hair as I venture up to our floor. Logan is hosting open interviews, meaning everyone in the tri-state area is coming here to Steele Enterprises today.

  I even had one guy mistake me for my brother and when I informed him who I was I could tell he felt stupid, as he should’ve. Who walks into their new potential employer and doesn’t know who one of their bosses would end up being? Ridiculous if you ask me. Alas, this is why Logan handles certain things and leaves me to other responsibilities.

  The doors to the elevator open and every man and woman inside steps aside to allow me passage first. Shit, I didn’t realize I was this intimidating, but I’ll go ahead. I walk through the lobby and pass the general reception desk where some of our interns and office receptionists work, go down the hallway and pass Logan’s office, spotting Esme outside at her station.

  I stop in front of her all white desk noticing it’s new. It has metal legs and they stick out in a v like pattern. “New desk?”

  “Yes. Your brother is trying to buy as much time with me as he can on a literal level.”

  I chuckle, smirking. “Can you blame him? You’re the best one in this joint.” Esme has been working for the Steele family for over thirty something years if my calculations are right. She worked alongside my father and then began working for Logan. She knows exactly what makes him tick, so I don’t blame him for wanting to keep her.

  “I know, and I’ve tried
to change the others to be as good as I am . . . but girls these days . . . they don’t listen.” Esme complains, sifting through a stack of papers, applying sign here tabs on certain parts.

  “Not just the ladies, Esme. The last one I had wasn’t any good.”

  “Mhm, which is why you have my darling Lacey working with you now. Christian hasn’t complained yet, but I’m sure he’s very angry. She knew everything about his preferences the way I know everything about Logan’s.”

  “Esme, we both know Christian doesn’t really need an assistant. He barely does a thing around here.”

  “It’s about perception, mijo. He demands the same respect you and Logan do. But Logan may be in the same boat Christian is right now. Lacey said Christian spoke to her about when I retire to come and work part time for him and Selena, helping with the little ones.” Hmm, didn’t know about that. Esme’s eyes sparkle when she talks about it, giving me everything I need to know. She doesn’t want to keep working in this stuffy office anymore.

  “It would make you much happier,” I state.

  She nods, “Yes, it would. All of your babies are basically my grandkids.” She isn’t wrong. Esme was our second mom. Hell, there were even times where I thought her and my father had a thing going. When our mom left after her trip to Paris, Esme stepped right in making sure we got all the life lessons we needed from a motherly figure.

  “That they are. Carson adores you,” I say, thinking about the small boy whose hair keeps getting redder by the day. He has all the features of his mom, with his dad’s personality.

  “Oh, little Carson is my nugget. I love him loads.” Esme smiles from ear to ear.

  “Fuck, I hate—”

  “Language, Jordan!” Esme smacks my hand, glaring at me as sternly as she did when I was a boy.

  “Sorry. I hate saying this, and if you ever tell Logan I told you to do this I’ll deny it. But I think you should retire and go work for Selena and Christian. You’ll be much happier with the kids, and you love them so much.”

  “I want to, Jordan. I only worry about your brother. He has so much on his plate and he needs someone who will be able to handle everything I do.”

  I can read between the lines here. “There won’t be anyone who will be able to replace you, Esme. No one will ever measure up and if you keep sticking around, searching for someone who is worthy, you won’t ever get the time with the kids that you want.”

  “Ugh, you are just like your father. Too smart.”

  “It’s probably why he and I argued so much when I was growing up.”

  “Yes, you two were both stubborn as mules.” Esme’s expression falters for a moment, looking a tad bit somber.

  “You loved him, didn’t you?” I ask before I realize I’ve spoken and catch Esme’s eyes going wide.

  “Yes, I did. He was never going to replace my late husband, but he was a great man, even with his . . . issues.” Esme puts the stack of papers down and grabs her coffee cup, taking a sip.

  “If things had been different you would’ve been an amazing step-mom.” I tell her, offering a genuine smile. There aren’t many women we would’ve accepted with open arms, but Esme would’ve been the one. “Actually, you already are.” I correct myself and the second I do I start to see tears well behind Esme’s eyes.

  “You are mi familia, Jordan. All of you are. I love you all so much.” Esme rises from her seat, walks around her desk and wraps her arms around my body. For a minute we simply hold onto one another until she takes a step back.

  I turn my neck and look down the other hallway, noticing Lacey’s office door is shut and the lights are off. “Did Lacey call out again?”

  “Yes, the poor thing. She has the stomach flu I think.” Esme says. I call bullshit. Esme is the only one outside the family who knows about our other business venture. I grab ahold of Esme’s hand and lead her into Logan’s office, not bothering to knock on the door before we enter and I shut the door behind us.

  “I’m pretty certain Lacey isn’t sick. I told her about—” I’m cut off as I’m speaking to Esme, about to tell her I told Lacey about what we do. Only, I feel like I’m in a dream as the unmistakable Boston accent causes me to turn toward her.

  “Jordan, is that you?”

  I blink a half dozen times before I fully realize she’s here in the flesh— Fiona Steele.

  Chapter Eleven

  It is not the strongest of species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.

  ~ Charles Darwin

  Jordan

  “Mom? What are you doing here?” I ask. Before she has the chance to respond, Christian does.

  “She’s leaving, going back to the wretched city she came from.” He’s held the most animosity toward her than anyone else. Whereas I give her more leniency than she deserves. She left when we were young, after I wasn’t sick anymore. As a kid I blamed myself for her leaving in the first place, told myself it was because she was so exhausted from needing to be with me all the time.

  When I was eleven I was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease. My kidneys failed and I ended up needing a transplant. I don’t remember much about it besides the pain, being exhausted and hearing my parents fighting all the time. Christian was only one when I was diagnosed and went through it all.

  I might’ve been post-op for maybe a year when my mom took the girl’s trip she never returned back from. She’d become so distant with us that maybe I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t come back. Christian barely remembered her, but he grew to loathe her for abandoning us. Logan had so much anger and still back then I cut her some slack.

  I look to Logan who’s always the more levelheaded of the bunch. While Christian will act out of anger, Logan never will.

  Our mother grins, sitting up a bit straighter in the chair that sits on the other side of Logan’s desk. “I’m here for business, sweetie. Something Christian has never seemed to understand from the looks of it.”

  Christian is about five seconds away from blowing his gasket. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m allowed to be pissed at you for up and leaving when I was little. No fucking birthday card, no visits. You just vanished into thin air. I’m allowed to be pissed.”

  She nods, digging into her purse and pulls out a cigar, cutting the end and lighting it up, proceeding to smoke. “You’re right. You can be pissed, but holding onto the past doesn’t make you money, little one. It appears your emotions cloud your judgement just as they did with your father. That’s how that little surprise sister of yours was created anyway, because he was weak.”

  “You don’t get to come in here and say the shit you are right now. You have no right.” Christian hisses at her.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was in.” Esme says to me, then looks to Logan who seems like he’s about to burst too.

  I place a hand on Esme’s shoulder, “It’s alright. How were you to know?”

  “Because it was her job.” Logan seethes.

  Both Esme and I are taken aback by Logan’s choice words. There’s no mistaking what he means by that. “Clear out your desk, Esme.” Her mouth falls open and before I can even think of a word to say she rushes out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Christian is shocked as well, staring at our brother. I wouldn’t have ever seen this coming.

  Mom giggles in her seat, “Oh how I love coming back to corporate dramatics. I knew I missed this place.”

  “More than your children,” Logan fires back at her.

  “Do I need to repeat myself? I’m here for business, not for our long, climatic personal history.” She groans.

  “Business? You’re here for business. Right.” Logan grumbles, glaring at her from his seat.

  “Yes, I need a hundred thousand units.”

  Logan chuckles at what she’s asked for, while I’m narrowing my eyes trying to figure out if she’s asking for what I believe she is.

  “What do you need that much firepower for?”

 
“That’s my business, not yours.” She responds, combing her long natural nails through her short, curled silver hair. She’s extravagant as ever in her black fur coat.

  “I’d say forgive me if you were a typical client but given our vast personal history I feel it’s in my best interest to discover what’s happening to our product. You’re a bit of a wildcard, and that makes me . . . leery of doing any business with you.”

  Our mother is obviously taken aback but I didn’t know what she expected walking in here and demanding we do business with her after not seeing her in thirty years. “Well, if we’re talking about this you should open up your stash and pour us all a drink. Things are about to get heavy, my boys.”

  “We’re not yours,” Christian snaps.

  “Oh Christian, how you have your father’s temper. Logan, obviously you have his business sense . . . and Jordan, seeing you now I think I know what you have.”

  “Cut the shit. If you really want the firepower you’ll start opening your trap. Otherwise, get the fuck out and don’t ever come back. If you do, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Mom laughs, clapping her hands together. “And how you’ve so proven my last statement.”

  “Speak up,” I order her, following my brothers lead. I spoke to her a couple years ago, but it was entirely brief while running into each other when I was in Boston.

  “Again, I’m correct. Let me ask you a question, boys. Do you know who I am?”

  “Besides the bitch who left us?” Christian shoots back.

  She snickers, “Yes.”

  “Cut the shit and tell us where you’re headed with this conversation,” Logan tells her.

  “I’m assuming your father never told you about my family, about the O’Deas.”

  “As in Colin O’Dea?” I ask, widening my eyes, wondering where she’s going with this. Colin O’Dea is the most powerful Irishman in the United States.