Anything He Wants 4: Collateral Damage (Dominated by the Billionaire)

by Sara Fawkes

  “Family.”

  The grumbled word held a wealth of meaning but Jeremiah was already exiting the car before I could ask for more details. He helped me out of the vehicle as the blonde woman made her way towards us. She was older than I’d first thought, although it was hard to tell her exact age; her lips looked too full and the skin of her face looked artificially tight and stretched. Only the semi-loose skin on her neck and prominent collarbones, courtesy of a super thin frame, gave away her maturity.

  “Darling, it’s so lovely to see you.” The woman opened her arms and embraced a stiff Jeremiah, who didn’t return the favor. “The men up front said you were on your way so I waited. Would you believe they wouldn’t let the Dashwoods in? They were so looking forward to a tour of the estate.”

  “The Dashwoods are not on the approved guest list.” Jeremiah’s voice was polite but strained, as if he was reining back his temper. “What are you doing here?”

  The chilly reception didn’t seem to faze the woman at all. “I told you darling, I was merely giving the Dashwoods a brief tour of the estate. They were so looking forward to it and I think you hurt their feelings turning them away. Perhaps now we can call them back?”

  My presence hadn’t yet been noticed which was a relief. The woman was dressed to the nines in a tailored blouse and skirt that matched her shoes and small purse perfectly. I, on the other hand, wore wrinkled and travel-worn clothing, and I’d lost enough weight in the hospital for them to sag on my frame. I hadn’t cared how I looked until this moment, and I tried to keep myself as invisible as possible, a skill I’d spent a lifetime perfecting.

  Jeremiah sighed at the other woman’s statement. “This isn’t your house anymore.”

  The argument sounded old, and the woman shrugged it off. “Nonsense darling, I’m still allowed to visit the old place from time to time.” Her gaze turned to me, taking in my haggard and travel-worn appearance, and her eyes chilled. “Really Jeremiah, must you bring your bits on the side to the family home? What if the press were to see her?”

  My jaw dropped open at her words and my hands curled into fists, indignation spreading through my body. I was so angry my mind couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t cursing or didn’t lead to some kind of physical altercation. That bitch!

  Even Jeremiah was annoyed by the implication, stepping forward and partly between the two of us while I fumed, body tense. “That’s enough, mother,” he snapped.

  I stared between the two, incredulous. This harpy is his mom?

  The woman sniffed in irritation, rolling her eyes at the reprimand. “Well then?” she asked after a brief pause, looking annoyed. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  Jeremiah looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon but his manners prevailed, even if he didn’t like it. “May I present Miss Lucille Delacourt, my new assistant. Lucy, this is my mother, Georgia Hamilton.”

  “Back to this charade again?” The condescension in his mother’s tone was palpable.

  Jeremiah didn’t seem inclined to belabor the point, but I was suddenly unafraid to give the woman a piece of my mind. I opened my mouth to defend myself as the woman in front of us rolled her eyes, then inspiration struck and I plastered a smile on my face. “Hello,” I said sweetly in French, laying on the false charm. “You should know that your lips and boobs look like they were done by the same doctor, except he got them backwards.”

  Georgia blinked, obviously surprised. “Ah, you’re from France?”

  My grin widened as I realized she had no idea what I was saying. “I can see why your sons both have issues,” I gushed, gesturing toward her immaculately matching ensemble. “It’s a wonder you’re still allowed here if this is what he has to put up with every visit.”

  “Lucy will be helping with the French segments of the business,” Jeremiah interjected smoothly as his mother’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He slanted me a glance but I couldn’t keep the self-satisfied grin off my face. “I’ve hired translators too long and need someone in-house that speaks it fluently.”

  I gave Jeremiah a questioning look, but he chose this moment to ignore me. Was he serious, or was this another ploy to derail his mother?

  “Ah, well.” Georgia smoothed her already impeccable clothes with thin hands. “I still think you had a total peach with that Russian girl, Anya. It was such a shame you let her go.” She shrugged, seemingly oblivious to her son’s displeasure at the change of topic. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear. Perhaps we can do lunch?”

  Not on your life. I gritted my teeth somehow keeping the smile in place as Jeremiah wound his arm through mine. “If you’ll excuse us, I must show Lucy to her room.”

  “Won’t you call the Dashwoods first and apologize? They were quite put out.”

  “Good day, mother.” Jeremiah ushered me toward the door, no more interested in staying with the woman than I was. There was a frustrated sound behind us then I heard the car door slam as we entered the huge wooden doors leading into the building.

  When I stepped inside the house I wasn’t sure what to expect. The walls were lined with wood paneling and the sparse pieces of furniture were similarly dark, but the high ceilings and pale walls kept the atmosphere from being too dour. A large staircase twisted up on both sides of the entrance, and light streamed in from both a skylight above and the opening beneath the balcony leading into the rest of the house. Past the stairs and through the opening was a huge kitchen with dark wood cabinets and a large island in the center. The living room was set off by a large television, easily taller than Jeremiah, along the far wall. The back wall was almost entirely lined with glass, leading out onto a large patio overlooking the ocean.

  The view took my breath away, but beside me Jeremiah growled in annoyance. “Why is that glass clear?” he said, holding my arm to keep me from entering the room.

  “Sorry sir,” one of the men behind us said, “your mother requested it this way.”

  “This is no longer my mother’s house. Turn it on.”

  A second later, the view to the ocean disappeared, the glass fogging suddenly. Startled by the change I tensed, but Jeremiah harrumphed and led me into the room. “Smart glass,” he said, answering my silent question. “It uses electricity to make the windows opaque. I had it installed throughout the house for privacy.”

  I’d never seen anything like it before. While I missed the view, the light still scattered through and lit up the room. Across from the TV room was a dining area with a giant dinner table and chairs; beside the table was a fireplace with a large mantle. The tall wall above it looked empty and I wondered what used to hang there.

  “Anything else, sir?” Ethan asked, and when Jeremiah shook his head the security detail faded back toward the front door, leaving the two of us alone.

  “It’s beautiful here,” I breathed, looking up at Jeremiah. “This is where you grew up?”

  “One of the places.” Jeremiah stepped into the kitchen as I looked around the open living space. “Do I want to know what you said to my mother?” he asked after a moment.

  I smiled at the question. “I made a few keen observations, nothing more,” I replied, slanting him an amused glance. When he didn’t return my smile, merely nodding in response, some of my pleasure diminished. “I promise, I didn’t say anything too rude,” I added more soberly, not wanting to offend him. This was his mother, after all.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  I thought about it a moment, then shook my head. “Do you cook? With a place like this, I’d think you would have your own chef.”

  “My parents did employ a chef when I was growing up, but I found it a waste.” He checked inside the refrigerator and the pantry, grunting in approval, then looked back at me. “How do you feel?”

  I yawned and stretched. “Tired.” I’d slept a lot on the plane but it still didn’t seem like enough. Watching Jeremiah and thinking about bed however made a shiver go through my body that had nothing to do with the poison. Hmm, pe
rhaps I’m not as tired as I thought. He had changed out of the suit and dress attire I normally saw him in sometime during the flight, and now wore a pair of expensive jeans and a white button down shirt. When I’d saw him in the ensemble for the first time, the change had been a shock but a pleasant one; the way his body filled out the denim made my mouth water, and my hands itch to touch.

  “Let me show you up to your room then.” He laid a hand on my back and escorted me out of the room toward the staircase. I leaned against his body as we went up the stairs, winding my arm around his waist. He felt stiff beneath my touch, unresponsive, and I looked up to see him staring straight ahead, a frown deepening his brow. Confused, I pulled my hand back and was disappointed to see him relax. What’s going on? I wondered, baffled by his response. I thought I’d finally started to understand him, but now he was like a stranger again.

  The bedroom he led me into was large by any standards, with a king size bed and attached bathroom. All the windows had the same opaqueness and I realized the smart glass I’d seen earlier ran the entirety of the house. The room, while grand, didn’t quite fit what I pictured the master bedroom would look like, more like a large guest bedroom. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what my status was during my stay, but as he settled me into the bed something told me I’d be sleeping alone. Reaching out spontaneously, I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips, laying a kiss on one thick knuckle.

  He stiffened at my touch, freezing for a moment; I thought I saw a flash of yearning race across his face but if I did the moment was fleeting. Gently pulling his hand from my grasp, he pressed me back onto the bed. “You need rest,” he murmured.

  I need you. The thought made my mouth turn down in disappointment. He seemed reluctant to touch me, which hurt more than I thought, but I was tired. Perhaps this is his way of making sure I sleep?

  Taking a deep breath to relax, I snuggled beneath the covers and closed my eyes, hoping my worries about Jeremiah’s actions wouldn’t keep me awake. As it turned out, my body did need more rest and before Jeremiah even left the room I was out like a light.

  3

  The sun shone through the nearby window when I woke up again, feeling more refreshed than I had since my disastrous run-in with the poison-laced champagne. I stretched under the covers before pulling them aside to stand on the carpet. I noticed immediately the glass of the two windows in the room was fogged; I hadn’t realized the whole house was set up this way. At the end of my bed lay a towel and robe as well as a sleek grey suitcase I assumed was mine, but my stomach rumbled, reminding me I’d turned down a meal before bed. Deciding to skip the bath for now, I padded down the stairs, hoping to find Jeremiah.

  Unfortunately it was Ethan who sat at the foot of the stairs, perched atop a barstool that looked out of place in the entryway. He stood as I made my way to the bottom floor. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” I replied cautiously. Unsure what to do, I made my way around him and headed for the kitchen, but didn’t see Jeremiah there either. Sunlight shown in through the clouded glass and I frowned. “What time is it?” I asked.

  Ethan looked at his watch. “It’s oh-nine-thirty hours.”

  I blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, it’s nine thirty in the morning?” At his nod I asked incredulously, “How long was I asleep?”

  “Approximately sixteen hours.”

  No wonder I felt good. Blowing out a quick breath, I looked inside the refrigerator. “Where’s Jeremiah?”

  “He’s chasing down some possible leads. Left the compound about two hours ago.”

  I slanted him a glance, setting a carton of milk on the counter. “He left you in charge of me then?” At Ethan’s nod, I swallowed down my disappointment and headed to the pantry. Don’t be silly, he probably didn’t want to wake you when he left. Coupled with the standoffishness from the previous day however, I was confused about things. I wanted desperately for someone to hold me and tell me everything was alright.

  Except that everything was not alright, a fact I was having trouble coming to terms with. One problem at a time, Lucy, I told myself, pulling open a pantry door.

  A few minutes later I was munching on some Lucky Charms I’d found, staring at my new bodyguard who was reading a gun magazine. He appeared to be ignoring me, but every so often I’d see him touch the microphone in his ear and knew he was connected with the men outside. I watched him for a few minutes then pointed my spoon in his direction. “Your wife told me you and Jeremiah used to be Army Rangers together.”

  Ethan grunted, not looking up from the magazine. Another man of few words, I thought, remembering the first limo ride in France and how silent he’d been then too. Trying another tack, I gestured toward his lower body. “How’d you hurt your leg?”

  “Mission went sour.”

  “Were you with Jeremiah?”

  “No, it happened after he left.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  “Father died.”

  Getting answers from the bald man was like pulling teeth, but he was talking so I persisted. “What did Jeremiah do with the Rangers?”

  “Sniper.”

  My eyebrows shot up. Really. I digested that bit of information for a minute, munching on cereal, then asked, “What happened when he left?”

  The big man was quiet for a moment; I matched his silence for a moment, hoping to ride him out, and finally he answered. “Pissed off a lot of people.”

  My jaw stopped working, and I swallowed my food. “Why?”

  “He left. Found a loophole or put pressure on the right people to get a full discharge. Most people thought he was selling out, abandoning his post. It’s tough, becoming a Ranger, and he just gave it up.”

  “What did you think?”

  Ethan glanced up at me. “I made my opinion known to him well enough.”

  “So you didn’t like the idea either?” I asked, guessing that’s what he meant.

  He hitched a shoulder, eyes back on the magazine. “He gave up a life many dreamed having, abandoning his squad. Yes, I had some thoughts on the matter.”

  “So how did you become head of security for him?”

  Ethan sighed and set the magazine on the counter then turned to face me. Despite his scowl he was answering my questions so I tried not to feel guilty about my persistence. “After I had my accident, Jeremiah shows up at the hospital. Offers me a job if the Army doesn’t want me anymore. I tell him to get the fuck out and he leaves. Lo and behold, a few months later I get my discharge papers and Jeremiah shows up again, offering me a chance at the business we used to talk about starting when we retired.”

  “Your security business?”

  Ethan nodded. “Jeremiah funded the initial costs but I hope to buy out his portion soon enough.”

  “Why leave the partnership? Don’t the two of you get along?”

  Ethan shrugged. “He has bigger fish to fry and I’d rather be in business for myself.”

  That seemed to conclude any more on the subject but I was still curious. “What was Jeremiah like back then?”

  “Younger.” At my droll look, a hint of a smile twitched one corner of the man’s mouth. “He felt the need to prove himself constantly,” Ethan continued, thinking. “He always wanted to be at the forefront of anything, so it came as a surprise when he settled on being a sniper. It helped him, I think, to hone his patience.” Ethan cocked his head to the side. “He was never the life of the party but he did know how to relax. Since his Father’s death though, I don’t think he’s been given much time to do that.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. I was getting my questions answered so might as well ask what else was on my mind. “What about Anya? How did they come together?”

  His eyes narrowed and he peered hard at me. I chewed another mouthful of cereal, trying my best to appear innocent. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he muttered.

  I just munched on my food, giving him an expectant look. It took a minute but he finally roll
ed his eyes and answered. “Jeremiah had some big Russian deal going down and he needed someone to translate, both for written and verbal communications. Anya fit the bill and became his new personal assistant, moving the previous one to a management position.”

  “So were they...” An item? I couldn’t bring myself to say it outright and wasn’t sure how much the big bodyguard knew about my relationship with my boss. I colored at his probing look, reaching and pouring more cereal even though I was already full.

  “Their personal relationship wasn’t any of my business. I could tell she carried a torch but he was impossible to read. Either way, when he found out she was sneaking secrets to his brother, Jeremiah fired her and threw her out. That was probably close to three years ago now.”

  “What was she like?” I couldn’t help but asking.

  “Young. Naive. ‘Fresh off the farm’ like my grandma would say. Smart though, and fluent in two languages. Jeremiah actually found her in Russia and brought her over here, but once he kicked her out she was on her own.”

  Poor Anya. Despite the blonde woman’s arrogance now, I felt bad for the poor displaced young girl. Maybe she got what she deserved, but it was harsh nevertheless. “What about Lucas? Why did Jeremiah call him Loki?”

  Ethan shifted, his frown deepening into a scowl. “Loki is the rotten vine on the family tree, and that’s saying something. Fucking waste of space if you ask me.”

  The sudden vehemence in the bald bodyguard’s voice surprised me. Wow, tell me how you really feel. “What happened between him and Jeremiah?” I asked, wondering if I had pushed my luck bringing up the volatile subject.

  “Besides Loki becoming everything Jeremiah and I once stood against?” Ethan growled. “His problems with Jeremiah happened before I left the military, but the little shit stole $30 million from the company right as Jeremiah took over then fled to parts unknown.”

  I blew out a breath. That’s a lot of money. “What did he do with the money?”

  “Hell if I know, probably started buying weapons.” At my shocked look, Ethan nodded. “He’s an arms dealer, makes his money selling weapons to countries that want to blow others up.”