The Bastard Billionaire

by Jessica Lemmon

  Maybe she was babysitting?

  Months had passed and Michelle had refused to talk to him. Perhaps he’d deserved that for approaching her with nothing more than a veiled excuse of wanting her blessing to post Benji’s photo. He should’ve told her the truth. That he wanted her forgiveness over all else.

  On the porch, he wiped his hands down his slacks and knocked—three sharp raps.

  The door swung aside a moment later and Michelle’s mouth dropped open. Her blond hair was tied back in a short ponytail, her blue eyes wide.

  “Elijah.”

  “Hi, Michelle.”

  “I didn’t expect company.” She fidgeted, first with the dishtowel in her hand before running that same hand over her ponytail to smooth it.

  “I didn’t expect to visit. I was in the neighborhood and I decided to try you.”

  “Oh.”

  The breeze blew the flowers on a potted mum at his feet. What the hell was he doing here? But before he could excuse himself and chicken out yet again, Michelle spoke.

  “Do you want…dinner?” Her face pinched like she wasn’t sure she should invite him in.

  “That’s not necessary.” He wouldn’t force her to endure his presence. She’d been through enough.

  A soft coo in the background drew her attention and when she faced Eli again, she no longer appeared to doubt her invitation.

  “You know what? Let me rephrase,” Michelle said with a smile. “Eli. You’re staying for dinner.”

  * * *

  Dinner was macaroni and cheese, chicken cutlets—which he politely declined—and steamed broccoli. Michelle and Eli sat at the table, glasses of milk in front of them. They ate and caught up on the mundane while her attention was focused on her daughter. That’s how Michelle had introduced her.

  This is Destiny, my daughter.

  Her daughter. He was still wrapping his mind around it, and Michelle had yet to explain.

  “Okay, snuggle bug,” Michelle told her towheaded daughter as she lifted her out of the high chair. Destiny was yawning and had barely made it through dinner. “She skipped her nap, so I’m going to put her down.”

  Eli cleared the dishes, looking around at the Hough kitchen as he did. It was tidy and neat, country blue and yellow everywhere. The colors suited Michelle—and Eli knew Benji well enough to know that if his late friend hadn’t wanted a giant painting of a rooster crowing in the kitchen, he’d have let Michelle have it if she wanted.

  “You didn’t have to clean up,” Michelle said as Eli loaded the last dish into the dishwasher.

  “Your leftovers are in the fridge.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, unsure how to begin to apologize for failing her that scorching, fateful day.

  “You must have a million questions,” she said.

  He returned her half-smile and leaned on the kitchen counter with one hip. “Just one.”

  Benji had been young and newly married, no children. We’re waiting, he’d told Eli one day. Till I get back. But he’d never returned. That conversation haunted Eli more than any.

  “Benji and I were secretly in the adoption process. We wanted two children and thought we’d adopt one and have one of our own and wind up with two children around the same age at the same time. The adoption went through two months ago.”

  A gurgle came from the baby monitor and Michelle’s eyes lit with her smile.

  “She’s everything, Eli. She healed me. I never thought I’d recover from losing Benji, and well, I haven’t recovered. Not completely.”

  Join the club.

  “There are times I wish so much I had been pregnant when he died because then I’d have a piece of him. You know?”

  Nothing pained him more than her quiet confession. So, he offered his.

  “I’m not here about permission for the photo, Michelle.”

  She nodded at the floor. “I know.”

  The heavy fall of her shoulders dragged her into a seat at the dinner table.

  “You cleaned off the high chair,” she said absently, her eyes filling with tears.

  He went to her and sat, leaning an elbow on the small, round table. “I’m sorry, Michelle. I’m so damn sorry.”

  She watched him long enough that a tear trickled out of one eye. “For a long time, I blamed you.”

  Blackness coated his soul. She was right to blame him. He blamed himself. How could he not?

  “But I’m the one who owes you an apology, Eli,” she said.

  “What? No.” He straightened in the chair, frowning at the woman in front of him who he’d bet never owed an apology to anyone in her sweet, young life.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice a lot more grown up than she looked. “Benji loved you. Whenever we’d talk, he’d mention you and what an amazing person you are. He talked about the advice you gave him about everything. Fixing up his old Camaro. The best kind of beer for a hot summer evening.”

  They did talk about those things. And more.

  “He loved you, Michelle. I feel like I know you, he mentioned you so damn often. I never should have tried to get your blessing when what I was really seeking was your forgiveness.”

  Those were the most open, honest words he’d said since he stepped foot inside her home. Raw and real, they left him exposed. He was starting to understand that was how sharing felt. The risk of sharing was rejection. He waited for Michelle to reject him again.

  “After Destiny arrived in my life,” she started, “I realized things happen for a reason. Generic, right? I was so angry every time someone would console me with that platitude, but it’s true. Things happen. What no tells you is that the ‘reason’ is personal. It’s up to you to figure out why you’re going through what you are.”

  She reached across the table and palmed his forearm below his semper fidelis tattoo. “I’m sorry you lost your leg, Eli. And I’m sorry I didn’t take your calls. I told myself I was busy, but I was avoiding you. You reminded me of Benji, and having Destiny without Benji hurt at first.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he told her. “You have to know that I would swap places with—”

  “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re about to say, Elijah Coolidge Crane.” Her eyes hardened as her voice wavered. She sniffed, visibly pulled her spine straight, and looked him in the eye. “Benji told me your middle name, too.”

  He couldn’t rustle up a smile, not even when her mouth twitched at the edges.

  “Don’t you dare tell me you’d rather be in the ground,” she said, “because I promise you there are people in your life who would be worse for it. You lost a limb, but you lived.”

  “I know. That’s what has me drowning in guilt every damned day.”

  “Refurbs for Vets is a good thing. You’re giving back in an active way. And yes.” She squeezed his arm. “You can use Benji’s picture on the website. I’d be honored.”

  She startled him by wrapping her arms around his neck. “I forgive you. I don’t need you to be sorry, but if you need me to say I don’t blame you or hold you accountable, believe me when I say I don’t.”

  He hugged Michelle, both arms wrapped around her back as one hand soothed her while she cried. Softly, gently, but she cried. When she pulled back, she smiled through those ebbing tears. A full-fledged smile like the one she’d given Destiny.

  “Keep doing what you’re doing, Eli. Benji is watching you, and he is proud. I promise. He wouldn’t trade places with you. If the situation were reversed, he’d be honored if you’d traded your life for his. Since he traded his for yours, I suggest you live yours to the fullest.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Eli swallowed hard, his throat full, his heart fuller.

  The moment was broken by a shrill cry coming from the baby monitor. Michelle wiped her eyes and shrugged, a busy mom with a routine. “I didn’t think I’d get that lucky.”

  “I have to go anyway.” He stood and she walked him to the door, Destiny’s loud cries piercing the air.

  “Thank you.” M
ichelle squeezed his hand and all he could do was nod. When he was on the porch, the door shut behind him, and he stood observing the sky over the house for a long minute.

  “If you’re really watching, buddy,” he said, hoping Benji could hear him, “fuck you for telling your wife my middle name.”

  Then with a smile, Eli stepped off the porch, and damn if he didn’t feel as if Benji—from wherever he was—smiled back.

  * * *

  “Dad is going to shit.” Tag’s smile parted his trimmed beard.

  Reese’s smile matched their brother’s, big and blooming like Eli hadn’t seen in a long time. There was the smile he wore whenever Merina was around, and then there was this one. Like he’d come home from battle with the head of his enemy.

  Since talking with Michelle, sharing dinner with her daughter, and hearing from her lips that whatever had happened had happened “for a reason,” Eli was absolutely, one hundred percent positive he’d done the right thing.

  By visiting her, by handing off Refurbs, and by coming home to Crane Hotels.

  Eli was the one who’d called this meeting and he’d taken the lead. The second Reese and Tag sat at the conference room table down the hall from Reese’s office, Eli had told him the decision he’d made.

  He’d be stepping in as chief operations officer, effective immediately.

  “Do you need an office?” Reese asked, pulling his phone out to take notes.

  “I’ll work from home, but I’ll be here on occasion,” Eli answered.

  “Need an assistant?” Tag asked with a wry smile. “Or will Isabella Sawyer be performing that duty among others?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Unless she refuses to let you pay her. Rachel was that way—she didn’t want any part of my money.” Tag leaned back in his chair and pulled both hands over his broad chest. “Parts of me, however…”

  “Moving on,” Reese muttered with a peeved glance at Tag. It bounced off their youngest brother like he was surrounded by a force field. “There are several staff members performing parts of the position in your absence, Eli. I never truly replaced myself when I moved on from COO, so it’s up to you how you want to run it. General operations is comprised of several jobs. You can keep the men and women I’ve appointed in place and oversee them, or you can place them elsewhere and carve out an eighty-hour-a-week grindstone like I did.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a masochist,” Tag interjected. “And Eli has a new girlfriend.”

  “All right. I give.” Eli held his hands up in a surrender pose. “I have a girlfriend.”

  “Duh,” Tag said. “She move in yet?”

  “I’m not you.” The teasing jab had Tag narrowing his eyes. Served him right. “She’s not going to move in with me. And I’m not you.” He turned to Reese. “If I asked her to marry me, she’d have a heart attack that would immediately precede my own. We’re good. We’re together and we don’t feel the need to define it past that.”

  The words felt and tasted like stale bread. Eli and Isa weren’t “good,” and Isa did need to define what they had. He’d known that since the night in the bathtub. But he felt closer than ever to figuring out what a future with a woman might look like, and he needed his brothers off his back.

  “Now that we’re done with the small talk, can I get to the rest of these bullet points?” Eli tapped the pad of paper in front of him with the end of his pen.

  Reese’s smile wasn’t as big as before, but it was there, suggesting he knew something Eli didn’t know.

  “Give it time, bro.” Tag’s grin was as shit-eating as ever.

  Hadn’t Eli asked the same of Isa? She’d granted him time, but Eli wasn’t sure how long she’d given him. Or how long he’d need.

  “Next item,” Eli said, once again focused on the present and his new position at Crane Hotels.

  Chapter 18

  Isa changed from a black dress to a pink dress. Then to a white dress.

  She peeled off the white one and groused at the discarded frocks on her bed before pulling on a pair of slim jeans, a ruffly blue top she’d bought because it matched Eli’s eyes, and a pair of black heeled boots.

  There.

  Whatever he told her tonight, she was ready. He’d phoned earlier in the day and invited her over, saying, “I have dinner handled, Sable. Bring yourself and your appetite. I have big news.”

  “Business or pleasure?” she’d asked, trying for cheeky while her heart thundered.

  “A bit of both.”

  She had no idea what he’d meant, but she was prepared to hear whatever he had to say. Including a profession of his feelings. Oh, she hoped it was a profession of his feelings. Things had moved fast for her, but she wouldn’t second-guess herself. Not when everything felt so undeniably real and right. He’d asked for time, and she’d granted it. Maybe he was as ready as she was to step things up between them.

  She regarded her outfit in the mirror on the closet door and bit her lip. Nope. Better go for the dress instead.

  She peeled off her boots and started over.

  * * *

  Isa arrived at Eli’s house wearing a skinny black dress and high heels. She wore a coat. As October grew to an end, there was no “showing off the dress” without also “freezing off her ass.”

  She slid the elevator door aside to reveal a heart-stopping table setting.

  Candles.

  Flowers.

  Eli had never struck her as the flowers and candles type, aside from the time he’d dug one out of the back of the pantry for their shared bath. But there they were: two elegant, slim tapers nested in crystal holders.

  “Hello?” She was smiling as she slipped her coat from her shoulders and walked in.

  “Have a seat. Out in a sec,” he called from the direction of the bedroom.

  The flowers were hodgepodge in a glass pitcher. The ends weren’t cut, and the iris in the center had a dead petal. Eli hadn’t hired a florist. The fork and knife were on the wrong side of the plate for a formal setting, and the napkin was a paper towel.

  Her smile grew even wider. He’d done all of it himself. Which meant he’d gone to the trouble to impress her. She gave up trying to calm her excitement as her heart galloped. This was clearly a romantic gesture—and she was ready to hear him out.

  “Hey,” she heard behind her. Eli strolled out of the bedroom buttoning the sleeves on a white dress shirt, his black slacks and shiny black shoes throwing her off. This was much different from the man in torn jeans and a tight gray T-shirt, yet he was as appealing either way.

  “Wow, you look…”

  He lifted his face and she lost her breath. Just gone, like a vacuum had sucked it from her. She could see his face. All of it.

  “You shaved your beard. Completely.”

  He brought up his tattooed arm and scrubbed his cheek with one hand. “Yeah. Is it weird?”

  “Different, not weird.”

  God, he was gorgeous. The dark angle of his jaw sharp and leading to a strong chin and perfectly firm, kissable lips. His hair was trimmed and neat, a little wavy on top—just the way she liked it.

  “Wow.”

  “You said that already.” He grinned as he approached, his steps shortening when he came close. His touch was familiar and welcome, blazing a trail along her waist as he tugged her close. “Want to see how it feels and make your judgment call after?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Since she wasn’t capable of words at the moment, she went with an affirmative hum. He kissed her and she made the sound again, only it was more of a moan, and turned her knees to jelly. His warm tongue traced hers and instead of feeling the rough texture of his facial hair, she was met with a smooth face, caressing lips, and his ever-present wandering hands.

  He smelled like pine and cedar. Tasted like mint.

  Felt like heaven.

  Every part of her leaned closer and before she knew it, she was standing on her toes absolutely devouring him as she shoved him toward the bedroom. When she went for the b
uttons on his freshly pressed shirt, he didn’t bother stopping her. Good thing. She wasn’t in the mood to be dissuaded.

  “What about dinner?” he asked between kisses, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He palmed her neck and kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  “You sound like a good dinner to me.” When he raised his head, she kissed then nipped his bottom lip.

  With a growl, he took over, deepening their connection, his hands on her face, his tongue stroking hers at a torturous, languid pace. Fingers on the waistband of his slacks, she was hit with a sudden desire—an absolute need. Him, raw and naked and under her.

  Button open, zipper drawn, she slipped his pants and boxers down narrow hips. Hard and ready, his cock landed heavy in her hand and she stroked once.

  Twice.

  A desperate sound left his lips as his fingers trailed into her hair. “Isa.”

  She shuddered. Hearing her name on his lips was sexier than the nickname he had for her. She bunched his shirt and slid down his body, lifting the material and kissing his flat stomach. He was toned and hard and she explored the many dips with her tongue and teeth. Especially when she drew lower.

  She paused to look up at him from her position on her knees—to take in the hunger in his nighttime blue eyes, the muscles in his abs taut as he cradled her head with gentle pressure. Then she took him in. Inch by inch, she slicked her tongue past the head and down the shaft as the most glorious sound of pleasure left Eli’s lips.

  He rocked, hips tilting forward as he shifted his weight.

  Air hissed through his teeth as she bobbed and sucked, licked and kissed.

  “Sable.” A groan. “I have to…” An exhale, short but powerful. “Sit down.”

  She let him loose and he swore as he plunked down on the bed, his eyes filled with dark intent, his fists wrapped around the bedding.