The Undercover Billionaire

by Jackie Ashenden

  The gun. And the barrel was still hot.

  Grief and horror turned over inside her, making her feel sick, and she was conscious that she was shaking.

  Wolf had killed her father and now he was using her as a shield to protect himself.

  She really had lost him.

  “Come any fucking closer and I’ll kill her like I killed your boss,” he shouted to the men gathering around them. “Now get the fuck out of my way. Let me go and nothing bad will happen to her.”

  Her heart was racing and nothing made any sense. She was crying, tears running down her face and down her neck.

  She’d spent all morning quietly gathering evidence on her father’s activities, because weirdly, she was still able to access all her files. Her father hadn’t blocked them from her, which he really should have done.

  Apparently he still trusted her, which had caused her a few moments of grief. But she’d shoved them all aside, doing what had to be done. Contacting a DS Corp R&D staff member and asking for help with some encryption. Turned out decrypting files was easy when you had the key and the right instructions.

  The files she’d decrypted had turned out to be a list of merchandise. Illegal merchandise. Experimental weapons that should never have left the lab, let alone the country. And her father had sent them to Daniel May.

  It was all the evidence she needed.

  She’d sent the list off to her brother Rafael, CEO of DS Corp, with instructions that it go to the correct government official, and to be careful because she wasn’t sure who was in her father’s pocket and who wasn’t. But Rafael would know, and if he didn’t, he certainly had the contacts to find out.

  He would handle it.

  Her father was going down.

  Turned out that was all for nothing though. Because Wolf had killed him.

  She tried to stifle the sobs as Wolf walked her out of the living room into the hallway, moving fast toward the front doors. Her father’s men were following, guns pointed, looking for an opportunity. Not finding one.

  Wolf walked backward to the front door, keeping her in front of him, his hot body like a furnace against her spine. He opened the door then paused in the doorway. “I want a car. Now.”

  One of the men—Clarence, Olivia saw belatedly—put a hand to his ear and said something into it.

  A minute later a car screeched up outside.

  “Nice work,” Wolf growled. “Now you can give me half an hour. Anyone follows me, she’s dead. Understand?”

  He didn’t wait for a response, dragging her outside and pulling her down the steps. The car’s engine was still running as he bundled her into the passenger’s side then basically slid over the hood to get in the driver’s side.

  An impact sounded, then another, but by the time she could figure out what they were, Wolf was pulling away from the curb in a screech of tires.

  “Seat belt,” he instructed curtly, turning down one street after another, reminding her of the night that felt like a lifetime ago when he’d kidnapped her from her room and driven her to that hotel.

  Her hands were shaking as she reached for the belt, automatically obeying him. She should simply open the car door and leap out, but they were moving so fast and she wasn’t that stupid.

  You are pretty stupid though. You thought you could change his mind. That you would be enough.

  But she wasn’t enough, was she? She never had been, not for anyone.

  “You killed him.” Her voice was thick with tears. “I’ll never forgive you for that.”

  “He’s not dead,” Wolf said shortly.

  At first Olivia couldn’t quite take it in. “What? What do you mean he’s not dead. You pulled the trigger—”

  Wolf’s gaze was firmly on the traffic ahead of them, his hands gripping tight to the wheel. “There was no fucking blood. None at all. He was wearing body armor.”

  Body armor …

  Olivia stared at Wolf’s strong profile, her brain replaying those last few horrific seconds after he’d pulled the trigger. Her father had collapsed onto the floor, but … there hadn’t been any blood. And she would have seen if there had been, because the mantel was white marble.

  Oh God. No wonder her father had been so calm, insisting on no pat-downs. Seemingly not at all concerned that Wolf was likely to be armed and hell-bent on killing him.

  No, he’d wanted to “talk” face-to-face. And he’d wanted Olivia to be in the room. She’d agreed, because she’d thought she’d be the only thing standing between her father and certain death.

  But no. Her father had been wearing body armor. Even then, he hadn’t really needed her. The only reason she’d been there at all was so he could use Wolf’s feelings for her against him.

  Her heart squeezed tight, pain of a different sort filling her, and along with it, anger. “Did you know that?” she demanded. “Did you know he had armor on before you pulled the trigger?”

  Wolf’s mismatched gaze flicked to hers then back to the traffic in front him, weaving through the cars. “No.”

  She clutched onto the seat belt as the car lurched. “So none of what I said made any difference at all, did it?”

  He said nothing.

  “I told you,” she said, her voice scraped raw. “I told you who you were. I told you how I saw you. But you didn’t believe me, did you?”

  A muscle jumped in his hard jawline.

  “You didn’t listen. You didn’t hear. You didn’t want to. Because you’ve still got your father’s voice in your head. You’re still trying to prove yourself to him even now.”

  Abruptly Wolf pulled hard on the wheel and the car lurched again as he screeched to the curb, jamming his foot on the brake, making her jerk against the seat belt.

  Then he turned, his gaze on hers, full of fury and heat, the strength of it filling the car so much that it felt like she couldn’t breathe. “You’re wrong,” he said hoarsely. “You’re just fucking wrong. I don’t want to prove myself to him. You know why? Because I found out that Dad never put his name on my birth certificate. He promised me it was there, but it wasn’t. He was never gonna acknowledge me as his son. He was never fucking gonna do it. And it just came clear to me now, why. Cesare’s right. I was desperate for all those things he said, and Noah knew it. So he used me. He told me I was the perfect weapon, and I thought it meant because I was strong. I didn’t have the smarts, but I sure as hell had the fucking strength.” His mouth twisted, pain stark in his eyes. “It wasn’t that at all, though, was it? I was the perfect fucking weapon because I was weak. Because I could be used. Because I didn’t question and I didn’t think. I did whatever he said, like a good soldier boy, because I wanted to be his son. Because I loved him. Because he was my fucking dad and all I wanted was for him to love me back!”

  He was clutching the wheel, his knuckles white, and despite everything, her heart ached for his pain. She wanted to put her hand over those white knuckles and stroke him, soothe him. Tell him he didn’t need that man’s twisted love, that he deserved so much more.

  But he was never going to listen to her, was he?

  She would never be enough.

  “He never did though, did he?” Wolf’s voice was ragged and full of anger and pain. “He never loved me. He didn’t give a shit. He used the fact that I wanted a family against me so I’d do exactly what he wanted. I was just a tool to him, a weapon. And what else can a weapon do, but find a target?” The grief in his eyes leapt high. “That’s all I am, Liv. That’s all I’ll ever be.”

  Her eyes filled with helpless, stupid tears. “So you’ve made your choice then. Sounds like a great decision to me, to be your father’s loaded gun even when he’s dead.”

  “It’s not my fucking decision—”

  “Yes it is!” Her voice rang in the car, bouncing off the surfaces, but she didn’t care. She stared into his beloved face, so angry with him she could barely think straight. “You’re still doing exactly what he wants even now. You had a choice, Wolf Tate. You had a c
hoice to be someone different, to not be Noah’s weapon. But you didn’t take it, did you? You believed everything he said about you. Everything Dad said about you. And you’re still believing it now. You’re still letting both of them use you.” She took a breath, clutching on to her seat belt. “Why? What the hell do you think you’ll get from this? His approval? His love? He’s dead, Wolf. He’s dead.”

  Fury leapt in his gaze. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

  “I fucking dare everything!” She leaned forward, getting in his face, so they were nose to nose. So close she could see the glittering sparks of sapphire and emerald in his eyes. “I loved you then and I love you still, and I told you what you were. I told you that you were better than that, that you were smarter than they ever gave you credit for. I told you that you didn’t have to do what they said, but did you listen to me? No, you didn’t. You believed everything Noah said, and you’re still believing, still listening to him and Dad. You’re still letting them use you.” The words were spilling out of her and she was helpless to stop them, fury pouring out along with them. “Maybe your father was right, Wolf Tate. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re too stupid to understand after all.”

  An emotion flickered across his face, bright and brilliant. Pain. And for a second the anger in his eyes was gone and there was nothing but heat, nothing but something that looked terribly like sadness.

  She’d hurt him, but she didn’t feel bad, no, not one shred. He’d done nothing but hurt her all this time and even now, he was still hurting her. And though her heart was breaking into tiny little pieces inside her chest—because it was obvious that there couldn’t be anything between them, not now, and that a part of her had been desperately hoping there could be—she couldn’t let him go without some scars. Not when she would carry the ones he’d given her for the rest of her life. She had to leave her own mark on him in some way.

  “Olivia,” he said hoarsely, her name jagged with pain, and he reached out to touch her face. But she jerked back, jabbing at the button of her seat belt then pulling it free.

  “No,” she whispered. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come anywhere near me.” Loss was choking her, grief aching like an open wound in her chest. “You wanted a family, Wolf. You wanted someone to love you. I love you. And I could have been that family. You could have belonged to me.”

  Agony flared in his eyes. “Liv—”

  “It’s too late,” she cut him off. “It’s too late for us. You made your decision and so I don’t want to ever see you again, understand? You don’t come to my house, you don’t knock on my door, you don’t call. And the next time you try to use me as a means to an end, whether it’s to get information or lure my father out of hiding, or as a goddamn human shield, I’m going to scream. And if I manage to get your gun, then God help you, because I’ll pull that fucking trigger.”

  The agony in his eyes deepened, and as she grabbed the door handle and opened the car door, he half reached for her, as if he wanted to grab her and pull her back inside.

  But she looked him straight in the eye, fury and grief shaking her apart. If he stopped her now, she didn’t know what she would do.

  He didn’t stop her. His hand closed into a fist inches from her arm and his expression closed up like a door shutting in her face, the pain in his eyes dying, leaving them nothing but cold, glittering chips of glass.

  “Okay,” he said in a dead sounding voice. “If that’s how you want it.”

  She didn’t reply. She didn’t even look at him as she slipped out of the car and slammed the door after her.

  And she didn’t turn to watch him leave as she heard him pull away in yet another screech of tires, so he wouldn’t see the tears streaming down her face.

  It wasn’t what she wanted, not at all. But this was the way it had to be.

  He was a man, and yet he refused to see himself as anything but a weapon.

  And he was the man she loved.

  Which meant there could be no future for them. None at all.

  * * *

  Wolf drove, though he had no idea where the hell he was going. He kept randomly turning down streets and driving, not paying attention to anything but making sure he didn’t crash.

  It felt like he’d been the one shot at point-blank range, and not with a handgun, but a shotgun. And he wasn’t wearing body armor so there was a huge hole in his chest and nothing he could do to stem the flow of blood.

  He was bleeding out, getting weaker, paler, the pain making him insane.

  “Maybe you’re just too stupid to understand…”

  That shot had come from the one person he’d never expected it to, hitting a place he was already vulnerable, and like the coup de grâce, it had killed him.

  Eventually he had to pull over in an abandoned lot by the river, and simply double over because the pain in his chest was so bad it was physical.

  She’s only telling you what you already know. Why are you being such a fucking pussy about it?

  He didn’t understand that. Because it was true, wasn’t it? He’d accepted all this time that he was a dumb fuck and everything he’d done up until this point had proved it. The botched kidnappings and then the shooting that hadn’t even happened, because that prick had been wearing body armor. And he hadn’t seen it because he’d been so consumed by rage, by his own agony.

  His hands gripped the wheel, holding on so tight the metal creaked.

  He’d shot a man in cold blood, right in front of that man’s daughter. It didn’t matter that Cesare had been wearing body armor, the intent had been the same. Wolf had been determined to shoot him regardless, and for what?

  “What the hell do you think you’ll get from this? His approval? His love? He’s dead, Wolf. He’s dead…”

  She was right. She’d been right all along.

  He was still clinging to the role his father had given him, still desperate for his approval. For his love. For anything that would fill the gaping hole in his soul. But nothing ever would, he knew that now.

  Noah was dead, and he shouldn’t have pulled that trigger.

  What you should have done was fallen on your sword the moment you knew Cesare was still alive.

  Yeah, fuck, he should have. He should have let de Santis’s security shoot him where he stood. But he’d taken one look at Olivia’s horrified face and known he couldn’t let her watch him be gunned down. She already thought he’d killed her father and to have him be actually killed right in front of her was just too much.

  So he’d grabbed her, using her to draw attention away from Cesare’s unconscious body so he could leave alive, it was true. But he’d wanted to explain. Except that hadn’t gone so well, had it? He hadn’t been able to do that properly, either. She’d been so furious, so angry. And every word she’d said had been like a hammer on a nail, driving that nail through his skin and deep into his flesh. Into his heart.

  You’re too stupid to understand …

  Now she’d gone. She slipped from the car and he’d made only a cursory attempt to stop her. He’d had to let her go though, because she was right about everything. The decision to shoot Cesare, to become what his father had made him, had been his. It had been a choice.

  “I could have been that family. You could have belonged to me…”

  The hole in his soul grew wider, deeper. Aching with loss, with grief.

  Yeah, he’d made a choice and the choice hadn’t been her. He’d literally turned his back on her, refused to hear what she was telling him—what she’d been telling him all this time—in favor of satisfying his own rage.

  He could have chosen her, belonged to her, and he hadn’t.

  He’d chosen his dead father instead.

  Wolf slammed his hand against the steering wheel, a low moan of anguish escaping him.

  “Earn your Trident everyday,” was the part of the SEAL code and yet what had he done? Every day he’d made wrong decision after wrong decision. Bad choice after bad choice.

  If he didn’t dese
rve Olivia de Santis, then he certainly didn’t fucking deserve his trident.

  Forcing himself to sit up, Wolf made a decision and started the car again, pulling back onto the street.

  Some time later, he pulled up outside a familiar building and got out, stalked up the steps to the front door. He pressed the buzzer and a second later the door was pulled wide. But it wasn’t Noah’s old butler standing on the doorstep of the Tate mansion, or even the housekeeper, but his brother Van.

  Van’s hazel eyes narrowed. “About fucking time you arrived,” he said gruffly. “Come on. Lucas and I have got something to say to you.”

  Shock pulsed down Wolf’s spine. “Why are you here? You weren’t supposed to be in New York.”

  “Got here this morning. Heard some shit on the grapevine about how my youngest brother had kidnapped Cesare de Santis’s daughter. Thought I’d better come and check it out.” He stood to the side. “Are you going to come in or not? And the answer had better be yes, just saying.”

  “How did you know I’d come here?”

  Van shrugged “Knew you’d have to turn up eventually. Especially given the de Santis situation.”

  Wolf hadn’t expected this. He’d expected to see an employee, to give whomever it was the message, and then go back to Virginia, back to base, and hand his fucking trident in.

  The last person on earth he wanted to see was his goddamn brother, who apparently had “something to say.”

  Van’s gaze narrowed even further. “Wolf. Don’t make me ask again.”

  He didn’t have the energy for this all of a sudden. It was like all the fight had simply drained out of him, so he shrugged and stepped into the hallway.

  “Good decision,” Van muttered, moving past him and toward the door that led to the sitting room. He pulled that open too and jerked his head.

  Wolf went through, moving on autopilot, coming into the warm, comfortable sitting room with the familiar photos on the mantel and the tasteful art on the walls. It was decorated in shades of cream and full of soft edges, in stark contrast to the hard white and sharpness of the de Santis sitting room.

  Lucas was standing near the fireplace, his hands thrust in the pockets of his jeans, his silver-blue eyes clear and icy. Though, maybe now that Wolf thought about it, they weren’t quite as icy as they once had been.