Yours Completely: A Cinderella Love Story (Billionaires and Brides #1)

by Krista Lakes

  I took the frame over to the table, pointedly ignoring Mr. Belrose. I could feel his temper heating from across the room. He wasn't a man that was used to being ignored. He was a billionaire after all. I rolled my eyes. He probably had people begging to ask “how high” at just the thought of him saying jump.

  But I wasn't jumping. I wasn't even bending my knees to prep for a jump. This was the one thing that I was good at. The one thing that I knew made me worth something. He may be a billionaire, but an art connoisseur he was not. The painting was far from being worthless. Very far.

  I smiled down at the painting without realizing and heard him let out a frustrated sigh. I peeked up just in time to see his back stomping off down the hallway. I rolled my eyes and told myself to be nicer next time. He was the one paying my salary and he was definitely not pleased that I had ignored his suggestion to start on the Degas. But, if he wanted this done right, then he had to let me do what I was good at.

  I pushed him from my mind and focused on the painting. If I was right, and I usually was, it was a Berthe Morisot painting and probably worth around at least fifty-thousand dollars. The last time I had seen her paintings up at auction, a painting of similar size and style had gone for over one hundred thousand dollars.

  I hummed gently, starting my real investigation of the painting. I was at peace whenever I held artwork like this. I loved this part of my job. To touch things that were little windows into the souls of painters, to hold something in my hands that had moved the lives of others, was exhilarating. To have it all to myself for just a moment, to be able to see every brush stroke and every careful line of color filled me joy.

  I loved the challenge of authentication and appraisal. It was a puzzle that never ended. I always imagined that it was a game to see if I could distinguish real from fake, and I loved having to use all my knowledge of art and painting to make sure that something was what it appeared.

  This particular piece was relatively easy as it had a certificate of authenticity from a museum I knew and respected, though, I still had to double check it, and check the certificate in order to catalog it for the auction.

  I opened up my tablet to begin putting in the details when I heard a loud thunk from the room next door. Frowning, I carefully set down the painting and went to investigate the noise coming from the room where my father was working.

  “Dad?” I called out, stepping into the large room next door to mine. “You in here?”

  Silence answered me. I frowned and then gasped as I saw my father's form on the floor next to a large wooden desk.

  I screamed a sound of pure disaster and ran to his side. He was ashen and clammy to the touch, but I thought he was at least breathing. Panic welled up in my chest and my heart threatened to beat right out of my ribs. I could hear every beat echo in my ears, whooshing and rushing as I cried for someone to come help us.

  Everything moved in surreal time. Some seconds, like the one where I waited for him to take that single shaky gasp, seemed to drag on while others flitted away faster than the speed of light.

  “What happened?”

  Mr. Belrose was suddenly filling my vision, his hands on my shoulders and shaking me. I looked down at my father, unable to move and unable to make my mouth work. My Dad... Daddy...

  I looked helplessly back up at Mr. Belrose, focusing on his gray eyes. Something in them helped loosen the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe. His hand on the bare skin of my arm was a tether back to sanity.

  “I heard a thunk and I came in. I...” I stammered, the words sounding off-key and hollow to my ears. I knew there was something I should be doing, something I should have done by now, something that would help my father, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it was.

  “Bastian?” Charlotte's soft voice echoed through the room. Her brown eyes went wide as she saw my father on the floor. “What's going on?”

  “He's alive,” Bastian said quietly, holding his fingers against my fathers throat and feeling for a heartbeat. Somehow, he was ridiculously calm, while silver cords of panic wrapped around me and threatened to strangle me. “Charlotte, please call Dr. Verner. Tell him we have an emergency that appears cardiac related. It will be okay, Ava.”

  The word “cardiac” resonated in my mind, reverberating and cinching the cords of panic even tighter. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I needed my father to wake up.

  “Ava.” Mr. Belrose grabbed my wrist, his eyes connecting with mine. When I looked at him, the slender threads of panic holding me in place lessened. He knew how to be in charge and what need to be done. I was so glad he was taking control because I was freaking out. “Ava, I need you to go get the AED. It's in the kitchen next to the door. Lucia will know where it is if you don't see it right away. I need you to bring it to me, okay?”

  I nodded, my head bouncing wildly. His words were my direction and I took off running the moment he let go of my wrist. I ran as fast as my legs could pump, skittering and sliding across the wood floors like an overgrown puppy all the way to the kitchen.

  I stumbled into the bright yellow kitchen, panting and eyes wild. The smell of breakfast was still in the air. I looked for the AED, but since I wasn't sure what it would look like, I couldn't find it. The rush of having something to do, of doing something to help my father, quickly wore off in the face of my defeat. The panic from before returned full force as I had no idea where the AED was, yet knew my father needed it.

  “Miss Ava? Are you looking for something?” Lucia asked, coming around the center island and wiping her flour covered hands on her dark apron. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

  “The AED, I need it,” I gasped. My voice came out squeaky, like I had forgotten how to use it.

  Lucia's face paled and her eyes grew wide. She scurried over to the door, moving faster than I would have thought possible. Hanging on the wall to the side of the kitchen door was a small white and blue briefcase with a red cross on it. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it. Lucia took it from the wall and placed it in my hands.

  I nearly dropped it I was shaking so bad, but as soon as I told my fingers to wrap around it, it would have taken pliers to make me release it. “Thank you,” I whispered, turning around and running before I had even finished saying the words.

  “No, don't sit up just yet,” Mr. Belrose scolded as I sprinted into the room. He had his hand on my father's shoulder, keeping him pinned to the floor. I didn't care what he was doing, my father was awake.

  “Daddy!” I cried, rushing to his side and going hard to my knees. I was fairly sure I hit hard enough to leave a bruise, but I barely felt it. I threw the AED at Mr. Belrose so I could wrap my arms around my father's neck.

  “For the second time, I'm fine,” Dad said, giving me a weak hug back. I wanted to sob into his neck, but I knew I needed to keep myself under control. Tears could come later. Right now, I needed to be strong for him.

  “Lift up your shirt, Mr. Fairchild,” Mr. Belrose instructed, pulling several pads out of the now opened AED case.

  “Why? What are you doing?” Dad asked with a frown. He didn't move to adjust his shirt.

  Mr. Belrose didn't wait for him to actually lift his shirt, and instead just did it for him, placing the big square stickers across Dad's chest. “Just attaching the monitor and shock pads,” Mr. Belrose replied, turning to the machine and pressing a button. He looked right at me and gave me an gentle smile. “Excellent job, Ava.”

  “Well, obviously I don't need a shock if I'm a awake, now do I?” Dad grouched, his eyebrows nearly coming together. I gripped his hand tight, holding onto him as if I could keep him here with me through that connection alone if necessary. He looked back and forth between Mr. Belrose and me like we were crazy. “I don't know what has the two of you all worked up.”

  “Daddy, you were out cold on the floor,” I said quietly. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and I wiped it quickly away with my shoulder. I couldn't cry right now. “You weren't wakin
g up and you were barely breathing.”

  Dad's face went from ashen to ghostly white. “What do you mean?” He looked over at Mr. Belrose and the AED. “What's going on?”

  Mr. Belrose turned the AED monitor to face Dad. “I'm not a doctor, but I'm fairly sure your heart isn't doing what it is supposed to.”

  Instead of the rhythmic peaks and valleys that I had seen on every medical show I could remember, the monitor was making strange patterns that only vaguely resembled the traditional ones on TV. My father's heart was obviously beating, but something wasn't right with it. I tightened my grip on my father's hand, even more determined not to let him go.

  “Right this way, Dr. Verner.” Charlotte's voice floated across the silent room as she escorted someone in. A man in a pale blue dress shirt with a stethoscope slung across his shoulders hurried through the doors. He was probably mid-thirties, with messy brown hair and sharp eyes, but he moved with confidence to my father. He had a large, black leather bag that reminded me of the old school bags doctors once used to make house-calls with.

  Mr. Belrose moved back to give the doctor his spot next to my father. In doing so, he moved closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder. Just having someone else there was comforting and I took a deep breath. I felt like I wasn't holding up the weight of the entire mansion on my own anymore.

  “He's in here, guys,” Charlotte called down the hall, motioning to the thunderous footsteps I could hear coming. Two men dressed in paramedic gear entered the room. Mr. Belrose raised an eyebrow at Charlotte. She shrugged. “Dr. Verner told me to call them.”

  “Beat us to the scene again, Doc,” said the first of the paramedics as he came over to where Dr. Verner had just finished listening to my father's heart. “What do you need?”

  Mr. Belrose squeezed my shoulder, giving me strength. His hand was warm and steady, keeping me from shaking like a leaf. He was helping me stay grounded instead of floating off into a cloud of panic. The small gesture meant the world.

  “Health history, and let's get an IV going. I don't like the look of that EKG, so I'd like to have something ready if we need to push meds,” the doctor replied, opening up his black bag and beginning to pull medical supplies out. I swallowed hard. There was nothing in that statement that I liked.

  The other paramedic came over to my side. He had a pad of paper and an easy smile, but I was glad Bastian was sitting beside me. Even though I hadn't known him very long, I felt like he was on my side. Like he was there for me, supporting me and helping me find my own strength.

  “I just have a couple of questions for you,” the paramedic began. “I'll ask your father too, but the more information we have, the better it is.”

  I nodded, trying to gather my chaotic thoughts. “Okay,” I replied.

  The paramedic began his first question, and I felt like throwing up. Bastian squeezed my shoulder again and I felt stronger. I could do this. With a deep breath, I focused on the paramedic and began to answer his questions.

  Sunrise Kisses: Chapter 8

  I watched the sun rise from it's morning resting place to crest at high noon through a window in the bedroom adjacent to the one my father and Dr. Verner were in. Outside, the world was sunny and bright, full of bright green and cerulean that seemed at utter contradiction with what was going on in my world.

  Daddy.

  I had nearly lost him. I still could lose him. The idea of losing both him and my mother was just something I wasn't ready to come to terms with yet.

  Bastian had helped carry Dad up to his room with the paramedics. He had even sat with me for a little while, but he had a company to run and couldn't sit with us all day. I had replayed it in my head for the past couple of hours.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Mr. Belrose asked, putting his phone in his pocket and sighing. His eyes watching my face carefully.

  I looked over at my dad, laying on the bed with the doctor watching the monitors attached to his chest. My soul was shaking.

  “I'm not sure...” I whispered. “But you should go.”

  He hesitated. “Really, I can stay with you if you'd like. I can cancel meetings. They're just meetings.”

  For a moment I considered having him stay. I felt better when he was with me. He had practically saved Dad's life after all. When he was around, I couldn't help but feel like I was safe. Like he would never let anything happen to me. Like Dad would be okay as long as Mr. Belrose was nearby. It didn't make any sense, but then, nothing today made much sense.

  “No,” I told him, putting on my closest approximation of a smile. “You should go to work. I'll let you know if there's any updates.”

  He frowned, his dark brows coming to a beautiful point. I didn't know why he wanted to stay with me. Maybe he just felt sorry for me. Maybe he saw something of himself in my situation. I knew he couldn't possibly want to stay because he had any interest in me. That was just crazy thoughts. He was a billionaire with far better things to do than sit with a random girl who wouldn't do the Degas painting first.

  “I'm fine. I was actually thinking of taking a nap,” I lied. I didn't want to feel guilty about having him stay with me instead of running his billion dollar company. I wasn't worth that.

  “If you need anything,” he said, pausing to make sure I understood. “You let me or Charlotte know.”

  After he reluctantly left, my nerves had kicked into high gear again.

  When I started pacing the floor, Dr. Verner and my father had kicked me out of the room so they could concentrate. Instead of sitting and fretting, I worked. I went through all the paintings in the hallway and started on an empty bedroom just to keep myself busy. While Dr. Verner with his van of equipment ran his tests and kept my father calm in his room, I let antique paintings and furniture distract my mind from the potential doom that could still fall upon my family.

  I was sitting in the doorway of a bedroom, waiting for an update from the room at the end of the hall while I put in the details of a very nice Matisse sketch, when Charlotte came by with a tray with tea and some food on it.

  “How's it going?” she asked, settling the tray of tea and cheese and crackers on the floor next to me before sitting herself. “Bastian would like an update as soon as there's any news. He's trapped in a meeting or he would have come down himself.”

  “Nothing yet,” I replied, glancing at the closed door. I picked up the tea pot and poured a cup. It smelled wonderful, and a little bit like lavender. “Are you sure this is okay? I feel like we should be at a hospital.”

  Charlotte smiled gently and put her hand on my shoulder. “It's more than okay. Dr. Verner is the best.” She shrugged. “Besides, why go to the hospital if you don't have to? Dr. Verner has all the same equipment.”

  “But...” I set the cup down in my lap and sighed. It just felt strange, but I supposed medicine could be practiced anywhere. It was just odd to think of her father getting lab work without having to go to the lab. Add on to that, that I was sure we couldn't actually afford Dr. Verner's services. I was fairly certain he wasn't covered on our insurance.

  “It's one of the perks of working for a billionaire,” Charlotte assured me, as if reading my mind. “Don't worry. These kind of things are why Dr. Verner is on Bastian's payroll. Your dad's in good hands.”

  I played with my teacup, spinning the delicate china around in my fingers. If I dropped it, it would shatter and the similarity to my father's life frightened me.

  “You need to eat something,” Charlotte coaxed, handing me a cracker with cheese on it. “Or you'll get hangry.”

  Her reference to this morning made me smile and I took the cheese. Despite knowing that it was probably the best, most expensive cheese on the whole island, it was tasteless to me. I chewed automatically, more to make Charlotte happy than because I was hungry.

  The door at the end of the hallway swung open and I jumped to my feet, nearly spilling my cup of tea. I set it on the tray, spilling most of it, before hurrying to talk with Dr. Verner.
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br />   “Does he need to go to the hospital? Is he going to be okay?” I asked, the words coming out faster than I had intended. “What's wrong with him?”

  Dr. Verner straightened the stethoscope around his shoulders. “He's stable for now, but I want him to stay in bed and wear the heart monitor for a while.” He motioned to the tea and crackers. “Please, have a seat.”

  I anxiously hurried over to my spot and sat down, hands in my lap eagerly awaiting the doctor's news. He didn't look tired, which I took as a good sign, but the last time a doctor told me to “take a seat,” my whole world had spiraled out of control. “So?”

  Dr. Verner's face was serious and he took a deep breath before giving me the news. “Your father had a heart attack.”

  I was glad I wasn't holding the tea because I would have dropped it. Charlotte gasped and grabbed my hand. I was glad she did, because I needed someone to hold on to.

  “But he's so healthy!” I exclaimed. It didn't make any sense to me. “He doesn't have high cholesterol, he's not a smoker, and he just passed his physical a few months ago...”

  “This wasn't caused by his lifestyle. Apart from running a stress test, there would have been no way to know about this,” Dr. Verner explained. “From the tests I ran, it appears to be an arrhythmia, which means that his heart's electrical system isn't firing properly.”

  “Arrhythmia,” I repeated. The word was bitter in my mouth.

  He nodded. “Today, the electrical system in his heart malfunctioned. Instead of sending the normal beat pattern, it sent gibberish, which made his heart spasm. Luckily, it reverted back into a sustainable rhythm before too much damage occurred.”

  I took a deep breath, focusing on the fact that my father was okay. “What happens now?” I asked, almost afraid of what the doctor might tell me.

  “First, I'd like him to rest while I monitor his condition,” Dr. Verner replied. He tugged at one of the ends of his stethoscope. “There are some tests I'd like to run once he's feeling a little bit better, but he needs to relax and recover for a few days. Once I've had a chance to run those tests, we'll be able to look into treatment options.”