Nobody's Girl: A Billionaire Romance Novel

by Michelle Love

  They all fell on the food as if they had been starved. Penn had been staying with them now for a week, helping out with the decorating. Sofia and Ivo loved having him there and although they didn’t repeat their sensual night at the club – Sofia made it clear that only she and Ivo shared their bed at home – the three friends grew even closer.

  Now, as they ate, Sofia nodded at the wall they had just painted. “Looking good,” she said, her mouth full of bread and Penn smiled at Ivo.

  “See?”

  Ivo shrugged, as Sofia continued. “Another couple of coats and taking care of some of the missed spots and we should be done.”

  Penn’s face fell and both Sofia and Ivo burst out laughing. He mock-scowled at them. “Oh, I see, this is a set-up?”

  “Welcome to the wonderful world of text messages,” Ivo held up his phone. “You’re so gullible, Black.”

  Sofia punched Penn’s shoulder. “Seriously, bro, nice job.”

  Penn grinned, but felt a small jolt. Sofia saw it in his eyes. “’Sup?”

  “I just miss this, you know? With Willa, we always used to joke around. Now that she’s gone…”

  Sofia went to him and hugged him. “I’m so sorry, Penn.”

  He nodded, gathering himself. “Thanks. You have any siblings?”

  “Step. My step-brother, Jonas is wonderful, a real brother to me. My step-sister is a psychotic murderous harpy. So, a mixed bunch.” Sofia said it lightly, but she winced a little.

  “Murderous?” Penn looked shock and Ivo nodded grimly.

  “She killed her own mother, by all accounts – actually she practically told Sofia she had done it. Tamara’s very much a Daddy’s girl.”

  Penn had gone very still, very white. “Tamara?”

  “Tamara Rutland is my step-sister. You might have heard of them? Anyhow, Tamara, when she was just a teenager, decided her mother was in the way and pushed her down a flight of stairs. Of course, nothing was ever proved – and besides who would imagine a young girl doing that?”

  Penn clambered to his feet and stumbled towards the bathroom. Sofia and Ivo looked at each other in alarm. “Penn?”

  They both heard him throw up and up. Sofia darted in to help him, as Ivo grabbed some ice water from the kitchen. Sofia rubbed Penn’s back.

  “Penn?”

  She realized with horror that he was crying and cursed herself. Willa had died in the same way as Judy Rutland – fuck, how insensitive was she to tell Penn that?

  Ivo arrived and made Penn sit down and sip the water. Sofia shot an agonized glance at her husband. “Penn, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.”

  Penn shook his head. “It’s not your fault, it’s just…god. My god…my god…”

  He sounded so distraught that Sofia began to panic a little. “Penn, it’s okay…it’s okay…”

  He looked at her, his eyes showing a world of pain. “No, it’s not, Sofia. It’s not and I don’t know how the hell it’s ever going to be right again…I have to go.”

  He stood suddenly and pushed past a confused Ivo to go to the guestroom. They found him shoving his belongings into his case. Ivo went to his friend.

  “Penn, come on, come sit with us and calm down.”

  “I can’t, I have to go…you’ll understand soon, I promise. I need to go home.” He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut, then hugged Ivo. “I’m okay…there’s just something I need to do. I love you both, remember that.” He kissed Sofia’s cheek, then before they knew it, he was gone.

  In the silence, Sofia and Ivo stared at each other. “What the hell was that?”

  Ivo shook his head. “I don’t know, baby. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything about Tamara, about her mother. What was I thinking? It’s just…more and more I feel close to Penn – as family, I mean, darling,” she said hurriedly, but Ivo smiled.

  “I know that, sweetheart. I hope Penn’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around Sofia and kissed her forehead. “And somehow, I don’t think this is anything to do with what you said – not directly. Something else is up. I’ll call him later.” He tightened his arms around her. “Try not to let it bother you. Shall we finish the painting?”

  Sofia nodded and they cleared their supper things away and finished the painting, moving around each other quietly. When they had done, Ivo smiled at her. “Now we only have the bedroom to think about.”

  Sofia, still deep in thought, nodded. “I’ll make up some more mood boards.”

  “I think you like doing that more than that actual painting,” he teased. He snagged them a couple more beers from the fridge and taking her hand, led her out to the balcony. The sun was setting over the city and the streetlamps were coming on. Sofia took a slug of beer and felt the tension in her body fall away.

  “I’ll never get over just how lucky I am. You, this place, this city…How did I get so lucky?”

  Ivo leaned over to kiss her. “It wasn’t luck. You deserve the world.”

  Sofia kissed him back, but her eyes remained troubled. “Do I? Really, what have I done that I deserve the world? Not much, Ivo, but I intend to change that.”

  Ivo frowned. “Sweetheart, you are kind, sweet, intelligent and caring. You care about other people, you help other people. Why are you so down on yourself?”

  She smiled ruefully. “I’m not, but I still think I could do more. I swore blind, I wouldn’t be a kept woman, but here I am, working on canvases part-time to show in your friend’s galleries and don’t think I’m not grateful but…”

  “I do understand, Piccolo. You want to forge your own path and you will. But don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, either. If your paintings were trash, no amount of influence from me would get you exhibited. None. You’re twenty-one, Sofia, there’s plenty of time.” He rested his head on her shoulder and gave her his best puppy-eyes. Sofia giggled.

  “I love you, crazy man.”

  “I love you too, funny face. Now, when we bought this place, I seem to remember we had plans to make love on this balcony…I say we keep that promise right now…”

  He kissed her, pushing her onto her back and Sofia started to giggle as he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them down her legs. “You’re insatiable, Zacca.”

  He grinned up at her as he moved down her body. “I have good reason.” And he buried his face between her legs.

  Tamara was laying on the chaise-longue in her office, sated from an afternoon of fucking. A couple of good-looking twins had ventured into the club at lunchtime, and she wasted no time inviting them back to her office. As they fucked her, she imagined herself as Sofia, being fucked by both Penn and Ivo Zacca, and it was surprising turn-on. The beautiful boys had left now, promising to return but Tamara couldn’t have cared less. She knew now that this was the way to go – no commitment, no feelings. Just sex.

  Her cell phone rang and she snorted as she saw who was calling. “Penn Black, as I live and breathe.”

  There was a slight hesitation. “Tamara, I’m flying back to New York. I need to see you.”

  Tamara rolled onto her front. “Do you?”

  He gave her an address. “My flight gets in just after midnight. Meet me there. Please.”

  “Fine.” She couldn’t resist the chance to taunt him about Sofia one last time.

  A few hours later, she pulled up in her car at the cabin out in the woods. Penn had spoken of this place, somewhere he and his sister had come to chill out away from work. She knocked at the door.

  Penn opened it, unsmiling and stepped back to let her in. The place was covered in plastic dust sheets. Tamara smiled at Penn, leaning forward to kiss him.

  He stepped away from her and sat down. Tamara frowned. What the hell was going on?

  “How was Paris?”

  “Enlightening.” Monotoned.

  Oh, so, he was going to play it like this, was he? “Did you have some fun while you were there?” Meaning…did you enjoy fucking my step-sister? Bastard.

 
Penn said nothing, but pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is an autopsy report. I want to read it to you.”

  Tamara sat down, crossing her legs and sighing. “Surely we can think of better things to than that? A bit morbid.”

  “It’ll just take a second.” He looked down at the paper. “Injuries to head include multiple fractures of the skull, consistent with an impact with a hard surface. Internal hemorrhage of the brain would have resulted in instantaneous death.”

  “You’re reading your sister’s autopsy report to me?”

  He ignored her. “All injuries consistent with a fall. Some bruising on the scapula indicate that force could have been applied but this is not conclusive.”

  Tamara felt her skin begin to prickle. “I though you said your sister fell? That it was an accident.”

  “Cause of death – injuries sustained in a fall. Whether the fall was accidental or not is still to be investigated. Therefore, I conclude death by misadventure in the case of…”

  Tamara shifted in her chair, irritated. “Penn, what the fuck?”

  “…in the case of Judith McClelland Rutland.”

  Tamara felt her heart stop. Of course. Sofia blabbed, that fucking little…The next moment she cried out as Penn grabbed her throat and dragged her by force to the ground.

  “You killed my sister, you fucking psychopath,” he growled at her and his hands tightened around her throat. Tamara kicked and fought with him but he was far too strong and she began gasping for air. She cast around desperately for something to help her – and realized exactly why the place was covered in plastic.

  “You’re going to kill me…just do it,” she gasped, then felt the pressure release. Penn stood, looking down on her in disgust.

  “You would think that. No, Tamara, I’m not going to kill you. But I am going to make you go to the police and confess what you’ve done.”

  Tamara heaved herself away from him, clutching her sore throat. “And why should I?”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Kill my sister? Kill your own goddamned mother? Why?”

  Tamara shrugged. “Because they got in the way of what I wanted.” She had her hand in her pocket now, ready to take out her cellphone. “I did you a favor. A pregnant sister hanging on every moment? Where would you find the time to fuck my step-sister?”

  Penn’s expression changed. “You’re having me followed?”

  “Not you,” Tamara coughed, “That little bitch Sofia.” She squeaked in alarm a Penn advanced again and backed up, feeling something hard press into her back. Penn squatted down to stare into her eyes.

  “Why? She’s out of your life, why bother with Sofia anymore? You had everything on a plate, Tamara, everything. Leave Sofia alone. She deserves her happiness.”

  Tamara smirked, remembering the shock on Ivo Zacca’s face when she’s confronted and then kissed him at his mother’s funeral. Maybe it was time for the world to see the same thing…if she, Tamara, made it out of this mess. Play nice.

  “Look, Penn, darling…I am sorry about your sister. It was a misunderstanding, but I swear, she did fall…”

  “Don’t.” Penn almost spat at her. “Don’t lie. Don’t attempt to cover up what you’ve done.” He stood, staring down at her with such hatred it made Tamara’s heart falter. God, he was so beautiful like this…but she wasn’t stupid. She’d lost him. If she could get out of here alive, that’s all she wanted right now.

  “So, what now, Penn?”

  “Now…nothing. But I’ll be watching. One wrong move and I’ll make sure everyone, including Daddy Dearest, knows about your murderous little ways. Stay away from me, stay away from Sofia, and you get to keep your pathetic little existence.”

  Penn strode to the door, not looking back, slamming it behind him. It echoed in the silence of the cabin.

  Tamara could barely believe she was still alive. She took out her cellphone and found the photograph of her and Ivo Zacca. She had promised Grant that she would hang onto it until the right moment but that moment was now. She quickly typed an email to a gossip columnist she knew and sent the photo. By morning the whole world would know that Ivo Zacca cheated on his beautiful wife at his own mother’s funeral. Tamara grinned to herself and called Grant.

  He was, as expected, unhappy at the move, but sighed. “Fine. This just means we’ll have to move things up. I have a feeling how Sofia will react and I’ll just have to take advantage. You make sure the room is ready. I’m bringing Sofia back to New York.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Hey, sugar lips.”

  Ivo chuckled. “That’s a new one. Look, I have one more appointment and I’ll be home, baby.”

  “Good. You have some more mood boards to okay.” Sofia laughed, but Ivo couldn’t help notice there was something else, an edge to her voice.

  “You okay?”

  “Absolutely fine. I’ll see you later.”

  Ivo hung up, something shifting inside him, an unease building. He put his phone away and smiled at his colleague. “Sorry, what were we saying?”

  An hour later, he took the Metro back to the apartment. The evening was falling and all was setting in, a sharp breeze making the fallen leaves start to jump and dance. Ivo stopped to buy Sofia some peaches from a market stall then took the stairs up to the penthouse apartment.

  He knew it was empty as soon as he walked in. It echoed with emptiness. “Sof?”

  No answer. He walked from room to room, but she was nowhere. Maybe she had just stepped out for some food or…

  Her sketchbook, which always sat on the kitchen countertop was gone. Ivo didn’t know why he felt panic rush through him – it could be anywhere in the apartment but as he searched again, he saw several of her most prized possessions were gone. He ran to the bedroom and checked the closet – her clothes, her practical jeans and t-shirt uniform were gone, as was her backpack.

  Io didn’t understand. A cold draft hit him then and he noticed the doors to the balcony were ajar. He pushed them open and stepped out. Sofia’s mood boards were resting, side-by-side, against the stone balustrade, not covered in ideas for décor, but on every inch, plastered with the photograph of him kissing that strange woman at his mother’s funeral – or rather, her kissing him.

  “Oh Jesus, Jesus, no…” Ivo was about to leave, desperately to find Sofia, when he noticed the one photograph that wasn’t like the rest. The woman was still the same but younger but it was the rest of the people in the shot that made his heart stop…especially the youngest, most beautiful girl and the woman who was undoubtedly her mother. Ivo stared at the photograph of his wife, her late mother and the family they had married into, and knew without a doubt that the woman he was kissing in the photograph, was Tamara Rutland.

  Ivo ran down the stairs out into the street and screamed his wife’s name. But there was no answer.

  Sofia was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Do you have her?”

  Grant Christo looked over to the sleeping woman next him on the plane and smiled to himself. “Oh yes, I have her.” He heard Tamara’s soft laugh.

  “Good.”

  The flight attendant glared at him then and he hung up, giving her an apologetic look. “Sorry, all done.”

  The attendant looked appeased. She nodded to Sofia’s sleeping form. “Would she like another pillow?”

  “That would be lovely, thank you.” Grant needn’t tell the attendant that with the strong sedative he had drugged Sofia with, she wouldn’t notice if she was sleeping on a rock, she’s be out until they landed in New York. The attendant brought the pillow and Grant dutifully tucked it under Sofia’s head. She didn’t even stir. Grant swept a lock of black hair away from her face and pressed his lips against the soft skin of her cheek.

  When she had burst out from the apartment, tears streaming down her face, her movements jerky and uncoordinated, Grant had known how easy this would be. Bumping into her, he’d acted the conce
rned friend, trying to make her go back to the apartment, until she’d begged him to take her to the airport. When he had insisted on accompanying her, she resisted but gave it. After they’d boarded the plane, she had told him that she just wanted to go to sleep and he offered her an Ambien. Of course, what he gave her was much stronger, would make her more pliable when they reached the States. She’d still not told him why she had been so upset, but, of course, he knew. Tamara’s photo was all over the internet. The betrayal Sofia felt was written all over her face – she looked utterly broken-hearted.

  And now she had willingly handed herself over to the man who would, in a few hours, make the rest of her life a living hell. Grant could barely wait. When the plane had taken off, and the flight attendant had pulled down the shades, people falling asleep, Grant released his seatbelt, and covered both he and Sofia in the blanket. Under it, he slid his hand under her short and stroked her belly, the soft and silky skin of her, imagining how it would split under his knife. Sofia murmured and Grant withdrew his hand with a smile.

  There would be plenty of time to explore her body later. He hoped Tamara had kept up her end of the bargain and prepared the killing room for him. He would keep Sofia drugged until he reached the club, unless her altered state became an issue, or attracted attention. For now, he would have to be satisfied that she was on the plane and on her way back to where he wanted her. Slowly, slowly, his plan was coming to fruition and he couldn’t wait for the next part.

  Ivo called Desiree, called everyone he knew Sofia was friends with in the city, but none of them had seen her. Desiree listened to everything Ivo told her and nodded. “I have a contact at the Direction générale de l'aviation civile. If she got on a plane, they can find out.”

  Two hours later, she called Ivo back. “She got on a plane to New York this evening. They’ll be landing in about a half hour…Ivo? She boarded with a man named Grant Christo.”

  Ivo felt his heart shudder. “What?”