The Irish Prince (The Billionaire Dynasties)

by Nelson, Virginia

  For some odd reason, the whole consideration brought to mind his parents. They’d never been the type to discuss divorce, even when they had rough patches over the years. Instead, they seemed to come out of every challenge even closer than when they started. They weren’t overly affectionate in public, but every so often…

  When they thought he wasn’t paying attention, mostly, he caught them holding hands. Or when something went wrong, he’d seen that his father’s first reaction was to reach for his mother.

  That was, really, what he craved for the long term. Maybe he’d never put it to words before, but part of the reason none of his other relationships—if he could call them that—worked out was that they weren’t with someone he could see reaching for when he was upset.

  Chelsea was already that person for him. And now, she was his lover, too.

  Her hand grazed his side, and he glanced down to meet her warm brown eyes. How would they look when time carved wrinkles into the corners? He tried to imagine it—to imagine forever with her—and found he couldn’t.

  He might not be able to picture her old, but he could see her smile being something he looked forward to every day. Hell, he’d already been doing just that for years.

  “We’re about to head to the gift shop to buy some magnets. Care to join?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “I do.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chelsea

  Waverley peppered the guide with questions and seemed glued to her side, right from the outset of the nocturnal tour. At first, Chelsea lingered toward the back in hopes she wouldn’t overstep. After all, she reminded herself, you’re here to help him bond with his daughter.

  But it quickly became apparent that Waverley didn’t need either of them to enjoy the tour. She stuck by the guide’s side, and the woman even held her hand as she asked everyone to turn off their flashlights to better enjoy the light of the stars and the sounds of the creatures around them.

  The darkness around them was absolute. Following near to the person in front of her, Chelsea practically bumped into them when they came to a stop. The tour guide’s voice carried easily to her ears, even from her position near the back of the group. “If you listen closely, we might be able to hear some owls…”

  The guide went on to describe a few of the different kinds of owls indigenous to the region, but Chelsea tuned her out. She could practically feel Aiden’s presence somewhere behind her—a palpable heat that didn’t compare to the intensity of the lasting warmth from the day. If she listened very closely, she could even hear his breath.

  After a full day of things being normal between them, she craved his touch. Longed to find out if the magic from the night still lingered or if it’d been some kind of weird fluke.

  A silly part of her thought they were breathing in tune, synchronized at some cellular level, but likely she actually listened to the sound of the breeze or the other people. At that moment, she realized the group had moved on, the droning of the guide farther in the distance than moments before, but she wasn’t alone.

  He’d stayed behind with her. “I really do appreciate all you’ve done for me and Waverley. And I know…I’ve heard it before. I’m a control freak and an asshole, so I’m lucky you put up with me.”

  Although he tried to wash the words with a playful tone, Chelsea heard something in his voice that she’d never noticed before. Was it always there, and had she just never paid attention? What she heard was loneliness. Which was silly, really, because a man like him wasn’t lonely. He was powerful, handsome, rich…hell, he could buy all the companionship he might want.

  But that might be the root of it. Maybe he was like her, looking for a real connection. Looking for someone who saw beyond the curtain to the person inside? “I haven’t called you an asshole for ages. I deserve a raise,” she joked. Because saying any of the things she was thinking would be idiotic.

  Crazy.

  Yet she moved closer to the sound of his voice, as if drawn to him. His soft chuckle wrapped her in decadence, and she shivered. “Yeah, you can’t call me an asshole, even if I deserve it.”

  Smiling, she felt the need to remind him, “Nope. I shouldn’t. Not that it ever stopped me. But you don’t pay me for calling you names… I throw that service in for free.”

  His laugh again, but this time closer. She couldn’t help but remember their kiss. When he’d tilted her head back and taken her lips, she’d felt alive for the first time in such a long time. As if none of the rest mattered, just the magic of his skin rubbing against her own.

  And then she didn’t have to remember because his hand tilted her head and his mouth was on hers. The kiss was slow, lingering for long moments at teasing before it suddenly changed. He went from teasing to plundering in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

  Her pulse hammered, as if her heart was trying to beat its way free of the cage of her ribs. His hands traced across her hips and scraped her shirt upward until his hands palmed her breasts over her bra. She arched into the touch, craving more.

  He delivered, dragging open-mouthed kisses down her throat as his hand found her breast and then tugged at her nipple. Somehow, one of his legs was between hers, and she bucked against it, riding the denim in a need to get closer. To get more.

  His teeth scraped her neck, and she moaned. “Aiden,” she whispered.

  And his mouth returned to hers, the kiss drowning out the night and anything past the flavor of him. The feel of him.

  Her need for him.

  She cupped him over his pants, and his head dropped to her shoulder. Something about the powerful man being so vulnerable to her touch just made her hotter. She nipped his chin, and he again kissed her, grabbing her ass to pull her closer.

  “I need you,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Tonight?” he asked.

  She couldn’t deny him. She tried to calm her breathing, to remind herself they were in the forest and it wasn’t the time or place, but she didn’t care.

  She wanted him.

  “Waverley?” a female voice called. “Waverley, where did you go?”

  The sound was like ice being poured down her spine. “Waverley?” she whispered.

  Aiden had stilled, his head turned toward the voice. In seconds, he was gone, and her arms felt cold and empty. A sense of foreboding came over her, the same kind she got when the music changed on a scary movie.

  Surely, the kid was just a few feet away from the group in the darkness. She couldn’t have gone far, not really. But as flashlights lit up the night, Chelsea couldn’t see the red hair of the child anywhere in the group.

  But she could see Aiden’s face. And the look of accusation on his chiseled features carved a hole in her chest.

  …

  Aiden

  He was a fool. He’d only just found his daughter, not knowing she was out there for years without him, and he’d lost her. Margo would never forgive him if something happened to the kid—

  Hell, he wouldn’t forgive himself.

  They were by the Grand Canyon, for Christ’s sake. She could’ve fallen off a cliff. She could be hurt somewhere, bleeding. Dead.

  The thought froze him in his tracks. What if he’d been fooling around with his assistant against a tree and lost her forever?

  No, far more likely she’d been kidnapped. No one seemed to have recognized him, but someone might have. It only took one person, desperate enough in need of money, to grab a child and run off with her. They could ransom her. He’d seen stories…

  Shit. This was all his fault. He didn’t know how to be a father, and he’d failed her.

  “Waverley!” he called out again, and he couldn’t hide the panic and desperation in his voice.

  Please answer me. Please, please, I’ll do anything…

  “Dad?” came back an answering voice. It was soft, as if she worried she was in trouble or was scared, and it came from somewhere above him rather than on ground lev
el or—worse—from someplace down a cliff side.

  He looked up. On a branch that didn’t look safe and likely wasn’t stable enough for it to support her weight, Waverley perched. She was about five yards from where he stood, illuminated by his flashlight. The little girl let go of the branch with one hand, covering her eyes. “Hey, get the light out of my eyes!”

  He quickly re-aimed the flashlight, directing it at the tree next to her, afraid she’d lose her precarious balance and fall because he blinded her with light. At a dead run, he reached her pretty quickly but still wasn’t sure how to help her. “Can you get down?” he asked. His tone was sharp, and the kid looked a little nervously at him.

  He tried to calm his heartbeat, his fears, so he didn’t scare her more, but he just couldn’t quite staunch the panic in his chest.

  “Well, yeah, if you quit blinding me. I was trying to see if I could get close to the owl.”

  Her explanation made him feel worse. If he’d been paying attention to her like he should’ve, she wouldn’t have had time to climb a tree.

  In the dark.

  In the Grand Canyon.

  “Okay, well, come on down. Nice and slow.” Twice, her foot slipped. Each time, he thought for sure she’d fall, breaking a leg or her neck, but she quickly adjusted herself and managed to get down the tree close enough to the ground for him to scoop her into his arms.

  Holding her close, he hugged her until she protested. “Geez, Dad. Don’t freak out. I’m fine.”

  She’d called him Dad again, but he didn’t feel he deserved that name. He set her on her feet but couldn’t forgive himself for her being endangered in the first place. He’d known better.

  He’d been distracted by his dick. He could try to pretty it up however he wanted, by telling himself Chelsea was different and that his feelings for her were more than common lust, but at the end of the day…he’d endangered his child because he’d been thinking about sex.

  Chelsea burst into the small clearing between the trees and bent at the waist, panting. “Oh, he found you! Thank God.”

  “This is all your fault,” he snapped before he thought better of it. “You were the one who suggested we go wandering around in the dark in the Grand Canyon. This was all your brilliant idea. If you hadn’t distracted me, she never would’ve been lost to begin with.”

  Even as he said it, he blamed himself for taking out his fears and panic on her, but once he said it, he couldn’t take the words back. Besides, maybe it was for the best. Better to drive Chelsea away now, before he ruined it all and more feelings were involved. He needed to focus on Waverley, not this thing with his assistant.

  “I wasn’t lost. Like I said, I wanted to see the owl—” Waverley began.

  He shook his head. “You’re right. That was an overreaction. But I think we’ve had enough of the Grand Canyon. We’re going back to the cabin and flying home in the morning. I’ll set up the transportation. When we get back, to bed with both of you. We’ll pack and fly out in the morning.” Even he could hear how somber his tone had become.

  But he already loved Waverley. More than he’d assumed possible, considering he hadn’t known about her for long. Not knowing where she was for a few minutes—it terrified him. What would it be like when she went home to her mother? It wasn’t like they had an agreement or even that he had legal rights to Waverley at all.

  He wanted to be with her all the time.

  And he had the right to none of her time, really. He had to think of a way to become part of her life. A solid part. He didn’t want to have gotten to know her just to lose her again. There had to be some way to ensure it…

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chelsea

  He’d had the security team seat Chelsea in a separate room on the plane, claiming she could get more rest in the small bedroom. The reason he gave was that they had a lot of work to do once they returned to the office, but he sent her that notification via text, and she hadn’t seen him. A member of the security team had driven her to the airport, and although she could hear that Aiden and Waverley had boarded, she hadn’t seen either of them.

  As a matter of fact, he hadn’t said a word to her since the night before in the woods.

  He was still mad, and she couldn’t even blame him. She’d known the folly of sleeping with her boss before she’d done it, yet it hadn’t stopped her. She knew why he invited her on this trip—and it wasn’t for sex. He wasn’t even wrong—it was her fault the little girl had gotten lost. She’d been so busy wanting him to kiss her, to touch her and prove that the moments they’d shared in the night hadn’t been a fluke, that she disregarded all responsibilities and…as he’d claimed…distracted him.

  It was likely for the best anyway. It wasn’t like they were going to begin some long term, meaningful relationship just because they’d had sex in a cabin. What happened on vacation stayed on vacation, right?

  And she couldn’t even text Kimmie about it. She trusted her friend—she did—but in this case? One slipped word from her could cause a media scandal which would cost Chelsea her job. Not to mention it could expose Waverley… No. She couldn’t take that risk, and she wouldn’t put Kimmie in that sort of position, anyway.

  So it was just her and her circular thoughts, trapped on a plane for a few hours.

  Chelsea did what she always did in times of stress or strife. She opened her laptop, pulled up the company email and messaging services, and got to work. There was plenty she could accomplish on the flight home and lots that she’d neglected when she had been distracted by Aiden.

  Now, if she could just see past the tears that kept blurring her eyes, she’d be good to go.

  The next day at the office wasn’t any better. He called her into his office, and instead of even trying to talk about what happened, he simply began rattling off emails for her to send so fast that she had to type quickly to keep up. There was no time for gazing at his face and remembering how it had twisted in passion or how he’d seemed more vulnerable and real over their trip than she’d ever seen him before.

  Just work.

  They worked right through lunch, so there was no opening for her to ask how Waverley was doing. No chance to see if he’d talked to Margo or ask anything personal whatsoever. She set up his video conference and closed the door to give him privacy, not even able to blink back tears outside his office because she feared someone would see her crumbling and guess at some of what had transpired.

  All in all, it worked out to be the worst day at work she’d ever experienced, and working for Aiden on a good day was quite a challenge.

  Once, and only once, during the long day did he for even a second lose the cold and snapping tone he’d been using since they returned to work. He’d asked her to get the file on James so they could review some of the early numbers on the campaign they were working on, and she’d accidentally mumbled something about how she was sure that the Penthouse Prince’s assistant didn’t have to put up with being snapped at like that.

  “You know how I hate it when you mumble,” Aiden said.

  And she met his eyes across the desk. For a second—a brief moment that might’ve been less than a second, if one were to measure it in real time—his mask slid away, and she saw her Aiden in there. The man with the smile that crinkled lines around his eyes and who said her name like it was his salvation.

  But then the shutters snapped back into place, and he asked if she had the file up yet.

  After almost ten hours in his presence, she wanted nothing more than to curl into her bathtub with a romance by Sara Arden. Maybe she could rinse her tears and troubles down the drain or at least forget about them for a little while. Get lost in a story and remember why love was worth the trouble…

  But he called a staff meeting of all the top-level security clearance employees, so she ended up sitting at his right in a conference room instead of heading home.

  He reviewed a few more plans with them, went over the coming week’s schedule—busy, of course—and
she coordinated all of the information, selecting what could be shared with which department and how those emails would be worded.

  She was ready to shatter by nine that evening, and she closed her office door with a snap before crumbling to her knees on the carpet. How could she go on like this? How could she work by his side even one more week and pretend none of what they’d shared had ever happened? At least she had a little more time here to smooth things over and make sure Aiden would be okay.

  Her earpiece beeped, so she scrubbed her face with both hands and took a few deep breaths before tapping it to answer. “Chelsea Houston,” she finally said.

  “Miss Houston,” Aiden said, his voice too calm. “In appreciation for your service this weekend, I’d like to offer you the option of ending your employment today. I’ll offer you paid leave as you fulfill the end of your two weeks’ notice.”

  She swallowed. He was scared, but she’d show him he could still rely on her. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Kelley.” She barely restrained herself from referring to him as Aiden. “But I promised I would be here for two full weeks, and I always honor my obligations.”

  After a moment, he said, “Very well, Miss Houston.”

  The click in her ear rang with a painful emptiness that left her trembling.

  She really thought they had something, even if it was only for a moment. But he wanted her to just go away. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be for the best if she did quit now. But she’d be damned before she admitted it to him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chelsea

  “Are you going to spill or just keep shoveling ice cream in your face like an animal?” Kimmie asked. “Because either one is fine with me, but I gotta admit…when you called me over, I figured you needed someone to talk to. Not just a witness as you tried to eat your feelings.”

  Chelsea stretched her legging-covered legs toward the end of the couch, shoving Kimmie in the process. “I’m not eating my feelings.”