The Billionaire's Betrayal (Highest Bidder Book 3)

by Carmen Falcone

  He’d managed to lose everything, including what he hadn’t had before he’d begun searching for the truth about his sister—a phenomenal woman. Alexa had left a mark on him, like an invisible tattoo he couldn’t remove. Damn it, they were good together. He didn’t need a country club Stepford wife to have his babies or wear his ring. He needed Alexa, with her sass, her attitude, and her endless compassion. He’d realized that too late.

  He sighed, scratching behind Duke’s ears. With physical therapy and the right meds, his mother seemed to be on the mend. Vanessa kept him up-to-date, but he’d refrained from visiting her again. I am a bad son.

  He’d punched his father in front of his mother. Something he promised himself he’d never do. Yet, he would have done worse to keep Craig from insulting Alexa.

  His cell phone rang, and he picked it up from the coffee table. “Hello,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

  “Brooks. It’s Alexa,” she said, as if he’d have a sliver of doubt after he heard her say his name. No one pronounced his name like that, with the seductive tone that sizzled his scalp.

  He straightened himself up on the sofa and sat the beer bottle on the side table. His body tensed up, his heart flipping in his chest. “Alexa.” That was all he could say glancing around his living area to make sure this wasn’t a dream. She called me. She called.

  “A sex worker from Kace’s ranch contacted me, and she gave me some information you should know.”

  Shock surged through him, and he clenched the phone tighter. “What?”

  “She said one of the security guys we talked to was your sister’s boyfriend. He was against her doing the virgin auction, but she insisted. I don’t know if this will take us anywhere, but he lied to us when he said he didn’t remember her.”

  He rose to his feet, dashing to his bedroom and grabbing some clothes. Why the hell would that guy lie unless he was hiding something? “That’s Mike, right?”

  “No. Mike led us to Kace. The other one was Tony.”

  “And he was working that night.”

  “Yes.”

  He gritted his teeth. The bastard had said he didn’t remember Pamela. “Thanks for telling me. I’m leaving for Vegas now.”

  “I’ll pick you up from the airfield.”

  Hours later, he sat next to Alexa in her BMW. She’d probably offered to pick him up to be helpful, and perhaps a side of her wanted to know how it all unraveled. She’d gone too far to go back. He trained his eyes to focus on the road, to glance at his phone, and to shoot her a blank stare when she spoke with him.

  “We should call the gym to see if he’s working. Pretend we’re clients. If he’s not there, we can go straight to the address Liam gave you,” she said, driving fast through the green lights.

  “Good idea,” he said, scrolling through his contact list to find the number of the gym where they’d visited Tony once. As the phone rang, an automated message picked up and put him on hold. He slanted a look her way, almost as if something inside of him was so drawn to her, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to bask in her beauty.

  His chest squeezed. Damn it. He should be mad at her—she’d broken his heart when she’d decided not to fight for them. Hell, she didn’t even want to give him time to try. One inconvenience, and she’d abandoned ship. A current of resentment made tides inside him. Had he been wrong all along? Had their affair meant so little that she could act like nothing had ever happened? The Alexa behind the steering wheel reminded him of when he’d first met her—no-nonsense, focused and professional. “Why are you here?” he asked, chastising himself for doing so. He’d thought he was a stronger man, but even with everything going on, she was still his weakness.

  She made a wide turn, then shot him a coy smile. “I have to be here. That woman came to me to say these things, and she risked her job and God knows what else. Wouldn’t be fair to just hand you the information without following through.”

  “And you’re great at following through,” he said, his voice almost as bitter as his mood.

  She didn’t reply, which only added to his frustration. Damn, the last week had been miserable. He’d missed her too much—her sexy voice, her warm smile, the one she flashed just for him. Or so he’d thought. What if he’d misread everything? Imagined them, because he’d wanted to see them so badly—wanted her so badly?

  She drove through the streets of the old part of Vegas with grace and speed. When she parked in front of an old apartment complex and they slid out of the car in tandem, he decided not to throw jabs at her anymore. Whether she had her reasons or not, she was helping him, and he had to grow a pair and move on. Moving on from a woman like her was the toughest thing he’d ever do, but fuck it, he’d have to.

  Moments later, he knocked on the apartment door. Adrenaline pumped in his blood. When the door opened, the flow of blood stopped in his veins, much differently than a second earlier.

  In front of him, wearing shorts and a sweatshirt, stood Pamela, in flesh and blood. “Pamela?” he asked, needing to hear himself speak to make sure this was real.

  Besides longer dirty blonde hair, she looked exactly like she had before. Maybe a few pounds lighter, but with the specks of challenge still in her dark eyes.

  She popped her head out, glancing around before opening the door wider, silently inviting him in. As if in a trance, he entered the apartment, and Alexa followed behind him. A glance at Alexa showed the surprise in her eyes, too. She touched his shoulder, squeezing it with encouragement. He sighed, scanning the area—a well-appointed, if small, living room with a plasma TV and rugs on the floor.

  “Why?” he asked, lifting his gaze to Pamela’s. Why had she faked her own death? Then he looked at her hands, her pinkie missing. She’d cut her own finger? “Why?” he repeated, raising his voice.

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot, playing with the ends of her hair. A shade of red covered her cheeks for a moment, before she took a deep breath and faced him. “I wanted to become someone new.”

  “Couldn’t you do that without faking your own death?” Restless, he paced the room, running his fingers through his hair to alleviate some of his edginess. “Hell, you could have told me you were going to do this.”

  Pamela shook her head. “Why is Madam Alexa here?”

  “She’s helping me. Don’t change the subject,” he snapped, gritting his teeth. Anger poured over him, the memories of all the nights he hadn’t been able to sleep because of the staggering guilt suffocating him. How he’d missed her—his little sister, the woman he’d seen grow up. They’d had their differences, especially after she’d become an adult, but he’d never stopped loving her. Disappointment zapped down his spine. None of it mattered, did it? The only member of his family he’d thought understood him had abandoned him.

  Alexa stepped forward. “When I heard about what happened, I was worried about you. Kace isn’t known for being forgiving.”

  “All of a sudden, everyone gives a crap.” Pamela walked past them, striding into a kitchen. She opened a cupboard and grabbed a bottle of Jose Cuervo and put it on the countertop. “It wasn’t personal, Brooks. I wanted to begin again, and I knew if I went through with the auction, I’d have to get rid of who I was. I wanted the money, but not the consequences.”

  “Why? I could have given you the money.”

  She chuckled, the bitter sound a smack in his face. “Yes. You could have given me the money. Like our daddy gave my mom money to shut her up about me. But you never gave me time—not when I needed you the most.”

  “Don’t you dare compare me to him,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve been trying to find out what happened to you. You think I know so little of you, yet I knew there was no way you’d have fallen asleep at the wheel. How did you pull that hoax?”

  She poured tequila into three glasses and downed hers before giving him one. Alexa shortened the gap and grabbed one, gulp
ing it down. Hell. He took his, and the liquid burned down his throat, but not enough to numb the pain. His sister had compared him to Craig, and assumed he’d simply not search for her.

  “I met this homeless woman in Vegas. A crack addict. I visited her every other day and brought her food. Two days after I had my night with the buyer, I went to take some food for her, but she’d died.”

  “So you had this crazy idea of putting her in a car and driving off the road?”

  “Tony thought it was crazy, too.” She grabbed the bottle and took another shot. “But I used her death to help me become reborn. I needed it, to forget what I’d done.”

  “Christ.” Crashing into the gas tanks had removed any way to discover the woman’s DNA, but had left remains of a body. “You cut your pinkie?”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol, but for the first time she looked at him with the same eyes as when she’d been younger. When they’d gotten along. His heart squeezed in his chest, and he almost reached out to hug her and whisper everything would be all right, like he had when she’d fallen off a horse.

  A tear slipped out of her eye, but she didn’t wipe it off. “I couldn’t forget.”

  “How about Tony? Is he—”

  “He’s a good guy. He didn’t want me to do anything. We want to move to Colorado, but he was finishing a course to get a higher fitness certificate, so we stayed here. He told me you were asking for me a couple of weeks ago. That’s when he quit his job. One more day, and he’s done with his course and we can go.”

  “When you found out I was trying to find out what happened, you didn’t consider telling me the truth?”

  The vein in her neck pulsed. “I couldn’t. I didn’t know if you had talked to the police, or who else knew.”

  He ran his fingers down his face. “I came to Vegas to find out what happened, and I have. I won’t tell anyone what you did,” he said.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry—”

  He lifted his hand to interrupt her. “Don’t.” Why waste his time listening to her about the crappy brother he’d been, and how she hadn’t considered him for a moment? His gut clenched. “My job here is done. You’re alive and well.” He nodded, more to himself than to her. She stepped forward, eyes filled with surprise, but he waved her off and headed to the door, ignoring her calling his name.

  With powerful strides, he exited the apartment complex, walking briskly, even if he didn’t have a place to go. He passed the parking lot, his face tightening with sadness. What the fuck. Emotions welled up his throat, and he’d either throw up or cry.

  “Brooks!” Alexa shouted, jogging to him.

  He turned around. Why did she follow him? The shock from his recent discovery and Pamela’s betrayal stung him deep. One glance at Alexa and his heart skipped a beat or two. “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, nearing him, her breath hoarse.

  “’S okay. At least I found out,” he said.

  She clapped her hand to her heart. “She didn’t do this to hurt you. I get it. She wanted a new life.”

  “Fuck having a new life,” he said, his jaw clenching. The excuse once again shot an acidy taste up his chest, burning his throat. Why hadn’t Pamela said goodbye to her old life first? Why hadn’t she told him? And why did Alexa have to be so fucking worried about diplomacy at this point? “What happened with owning up to your actions, instead of fucking pretending to die to move out of state?”

  Raw pain glittered in her eyes. “It’s not that simple. She went through something traumatizing, and—”

  “She asked for it. No one ever held a gun to her head.” He curled his fingers into fists.

  Alexa leaned closer. He didn’t need to see kindness in her expression. Not when she wasn’t honest with her own emotions. What a hypocrite. “She needed to make it on her own.”

  “Well, she has. Obviously she didn’t need me or my money. Like you don’t need me,” he snapped. Shit, he was exhausted from dancing around the subject.

  “Brooks—”

  “What? Why did you come after me?”

  She thinned her lips. Specks of silver flashed in her irises, but unlike in the past, these weren’t happy. They spoke of pain and regret. She threaded her fingers together, hands trembling.

  He leaned in, every part of him throbbing for her answer. Her hesitation was a blade in his heart. “I’ll grab a cab. Goodbye, Madam.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  One month later…

  “Okay, I’m done for the day,” Gina said, before leaving his home.

  Brooks waved, then grabbed the beer from the coffee table. Duke snuggled next to him, making a whimpering sound in sympathy. He stroked behind the dog’s ears, downing a generous amount of beer. Shit.

  For the past few weeks, he’d worked during the day, and stayed home at night. He’d refused invitations to country club parties and texts from acquaintances. He wanted nothing to do with anyone.

  Even now, the TV was on but he had no clue what was playing.

  A painful, nostalgic sensation snaked its way through his body. Pamela had called him, and the small gesture meant a lot to him. She’d apologized again, and told him once she’d gotten settled in Colorado, she’d love for him to visit.

  He scratched his head. Now, to solve the other problem…

  He played the moments he’d shared with Alexa in his head—the good, the bad, and the ugly. She was now thousands of miles away. Did she miss him as much as he did her? After seeing Pamela, she’d followed him out of the apartment to check on him.

  Her action had infuriated him then, because he’d been so frustrated and taken aback. But if she didn’t have feelings for him, she wouldn’t have cared. And he’d thrown it all away.

  A knock startled him, and Duke barked.

  He surged to his feet, walked to the entrance, and opened the door to find Gina.

  “What?”

  She scurried inside. “I forgot my cell phone.” She dashed to the kitchen and grabbed it. When she returned to the living area, she studied him with an inquisitive look. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but isn’t it time you sorted things out?”

  His throat went dry. He hadn’t told her the true story about Alexa, but she probably gathered they were no longer together. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Well, don’t do it for too long. That pretty lady will have a line of guys asking her out.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement,” he said bitterly.

  She chuckled, waving him off. “I’m just being honest. Take it from someone who’s lived more than you. Life doesn’t always give you second chances.”

  “I tried,” he said more to himself than to her. “I don’t know what she expects from me.” He’d proposed a relationship and she’d broken off the one they’d had after his father had insulted her. Then in Nevada, she’d helped him figure out what had happened to Pamela but—realization dawned on him. He’d been angry and bitter, and he’d expected her to care for him like an injured bird. What had he done to deserve that? For all he knew, she still believed he was ashamed of her and her past. “Besides showing her I’m not my father,” he said, more to himself than Gina.

  “What was that?” she asked, cocking her head as if making an effort to comprehend his low voice.

  “I need to show her I’m not my father,” he said out loud. How had he not seen it sooner? After the stupid and sexist way Craig had behaved in front of her at the hospital, Brooks had done nothing to show her he was any different.

  He popped his knuckles. Damn it, in his heart he knew he couldn’t be prouder of being by Alexa’s side. Her early life had been abusive and plain wrong, but she’d taken charge as a teenager, and had thrived. She’d become the woman he loved.

  Gina shortened the gap between them and patted him on his shoulder. “You are right. Thankfully, yo
u’re everything your father is not. And if she doesn’t know that, you have to make her understand.”

  Strands of determination coursed through him. He’d do better than that. I’ll show it to her. “I need to make a phone call.”

  …

  Alexa looked at the airline website. She slid her fingers down the mouse of her laptop, the same way she had for the last two weeks. Heat pitched low in her stomach, and her palms were clammy. Anxiety wrapped around her neck, squeezing her throat, and for a moment or two, her gaze fixed on the screen.

  “Would you like anything else, señorita?” asked the waiter.

  Alexa put down her small cup of black coffee and glanced at the Spanish waitress smiling at her. “No, I’m good.”

  Was she? Not by a long shot. For the past three weeks, she’d been volunteering at one of Europe’s largest organizations for assisting victims of abuse—battered women and children. She was now Amanda Snowden, and had bought a charming apartment in a nice area of Barcelona.

  She turned her laptop off and focused on the hustle and bustle of downtown. An old lady walked her French bulldog. Taking another sip of her coffee, she mused. She couldn’t buy a ticket to see Brooks in Texas—she was no longer Alexa. She’d become Amanda, an American with fat pockets who decided to do volunteer work and perfect her Spanish.

  Her phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her bag, immediately recognizing Jackie’s number on FaceTime. She flicked it on, and Jackie waved at her enthusiastically.

  “Hey,” Alexa said, her pulse fluttering with excitement.

  She missed Jackie. Thankfully, Jackie had continued to run House of Alexa with a lot of success—which was why Alexa didn’t ask for updates very often, because she knew how busy Jackie must be.

  And she had a life now, too. Enjoyed the work, even if a part of her felt like she ate delicious food without tasting the flavor.