BIG SHOT LOVE: 5 Billionaire Romance Books Bundle

by Kristina Weaver

  Six! What the fu—

  “You know what? I was sitting here wondering what the hell is wrong with you all of a sudden, maybe thinking that I inadvertently said something to anger you, something I don’t remember by the way, but I think…you may be the problem here, Cameron. Are you like, bipolar or something?”

  Shut up, now!

  He’s hands are full on white by the time we reach the wrought iron gates of home, and I’m so uncomfortable I’m practically hanging onto the door handle and waiting for him to slow down before trying to make my escape.

  He hasn’t said anything, and I’m just…should it hurt this much to know that I’ve been living in a freaking lie bubble for the last few months? Somehow I don’t think the person I was when I got shoved down the stairs would be this meek and docile in the face of Cameron’s anger.

  Unfortunately, I also suspect that this love I feel is not as old and comfy as I’d fooled myself into believing. This scares me because I’d been so ready to accept what he told me in that hospital, so easy to trust, that I haven’t even considered that there is a reason that Molly had started telling me about the night of the treasure hunt.

  I don’t know much right now, save for two very important things. Cameron does not love, trust, or even like me much—despite the act he’s been putting on. And someone shoved me down those stairs.

  No, not just someone. Robert. I know him. I know that face, and if Cameron doesn’t want to believe that his precious brother would do something that evil, I am alone. In danger. And so is my precious Angel.

  “I don’t want you telling Mum or Dad about the baby yet.”

  That gives me the freaking chills. “Why?”

  “Because they’re still getting over—just keep your fucking trap shut until I make a few arrangements.”

  “What arrangements?”

  It’s paranoid, but that statement makes me go Godfather, and I can’t keep the image of that horse’s head from flashing in my mind’s eye.

  “Never mind.”

  “Cam, please, I don’t understand what’s going on here,” I whisper, pleading for a little warmth and comfort. “I thought that if I told you the truth, you’d be happy. God, I’ve been agonizing about this since the nightmares started.”

  That gets me an even deadlier glare, and I shrink back, retracting the hand I’d been inching toward his arm.

  “Tell me. How do you expect me to believe Rob pushed you?”

  “Why would I lie, Cameron?”

  “Why indeed? One would think that a little con artist like yourself would be more original than to name a dead man as her attacker.”

  He slams out of the car before my befuddled brain can catch up, and I’m left slack jawed and wide eyed.

  Robert’s dead?

  But then that would mean…

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Shaw

  I don’t get to call Alec that day or the next or the next after. Cameron is on my ass like white on rice for the next while, his attitude loving and warm any time we’re not alone before returning to that arctic chill that threatens to give me frostbite when we go to bed.

  Strangely, I wake up with him wrapped around me every morning, as if he can’t help gravitating towards me in his sleep, even when I scoot to the very edge of the bed to try to escape him.

  Hussy that I am, I inevitably relax and allow his arms to cuddle me closer, soothed by the heat of him as he covers me, his face shoved into the nape of my neck, his hands cradling my breasts.

  In the morning though, well, let’s just say he’s none too pleased about being my blanket and waking up to the slow grind of his morning wood on my ass.

  Every time is the same. He vaults out of bed, shaking with rage, yelling at me to keep my hands to myself. As if I was the one grinding all up on that wood!

  Then he stalks to the bathroom and takes a long shower. I’d smirk and feel all smug about that if it weren’t for the fact that he takes so long in there that I’d had to puke into the wastepaper basket.

  Morning sickness waits for no one, not even an enraged, sexually frustrated man, trying to rub one out instead of doing me with that wood.

  This morning had been a shocker because instead of vaulting for the bathroom first chance he’d stood glaring and waited for me to bolt for the toilet for my morning ritual.

  And then he’d tossed a damp washrag in my face and tossed a bottle of water at me. Oh, the gallantry! Siiiiiigh.

  “You look awful. Shouldn’t you start taking those pills the doctor gave you last time?”

  Snarly. Just the way I like my men in the morning. Not.

  I shrug, feeling ten shades of screwed up and embarrassed because he’d growled that same thing at me yesterday, and now I’m too angry to admit to him that I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  Pills? For the nausea? If I knew that shit existed I would have taken them already. Since he so staunchly believes I’m faking my memory loss, he also thinks I know about half the stuff I’d been through while pregnant with Angel.

  Sad truth. I don’t even remember decorating the nursery, or any of the ultrasounds, though I’ve seen every one of them in Margery’s scrapbook.

  “Just”—he sighs and pinches at the bridge of his nose—“take the fucking pills, please. You’re pale and losing weight that you can’t afford to lose right now. And you’re still breastfeeding so you need to keep your milk up.”

  That snaps me out of whatever void I’ve been floating in—yeah, it’s easier to just drift when I feel this unsettled—and I do what I swore I wouldn’t do. I start crying silently and biting at my lips, as he stares, his eyes narrowing.

  “I don’t know about the pills, and I…I can’t remember where they are. And I didn’t want to tell you that because you get mad every time I mention not remembering, but I swear I’m not lying!”

  Great. Yeah. Go high pitched and teary at the end. As if I don’t already look like a total idiot already.

  The worst part about not remembering shit while the guy you dig is hating on you? He doesn’t believe you and….well, he gets meaner every time it happens. Yesterday, I’d been looking through albums and innocently asking Margery about the blonde Adonis in them. It was Robert. Cameron had walked in, his eyes going all molten.

  I’d endured whole minutes of his ranting after he’d dragged me upstairs under the guise of needing some alone time with his girl. Talk about setting myself up for that one.

  For the briefest moment I’d been so happy and hopeful that the old Cameron was back that I had crashed and burned in a major way when he’d thrust me onto the bed and warned me again and again and then again some more that I wasn’t to talk about his hallowed, very dead sibling.

  Now I’m just feeling crazy about the whole thing because it’s true. He’s dead and was dead for months before I’d been pushed, and I…don’t know what to do with that.

  “Here. Take one of these. The prescription is almost empty so I’ll have them deliver more this afternoon. Take one now and later at lunchtime, and you should be good to go. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to spend time with my daughter before I leave for the office.”

  Just like that he strides out, leaving me with more questions and uncertainty than I woke with.

  But I am alone, blissfully alone for the first time in days. I practically dive for the bedside drawer and fire up my phone, hitting send before I can change my mind. I’m fully aware that I could be making a huge mistake by roping Alec into this mess, but I feel like I’m going crazy. I need something to start the ball rolling, or I really will lose my shit.

  “Hey, Shawsie. I thought you’d never call.”

  My throat tightens at the affectionate tone, and I swallow a miserable sigh.

  “Hey Alec. Sorry, I just…I’ve been so busy lately with Angel.”

  Lame! What I really should say is that I was so wrapped up in falling for Cameron that I hadn’t given him more than a cursory thought the whole time. That’s about to ch
ange because I need him. Desperately.

  “Yeah, gosh I can’t believe you’re a mama. Far cry from the girl who swore never to subject her kid to the ‘tomb’s’ genetic makeup.”

  I snort and chuckle a little, though the sound is sad.

  “Yeah. The worst part is that my memory is still on the fritz and the doctors aren’t of very much help. They just advise not to try too hard and that it’ll come when it comes. Or never. No one will talk to me about anything that happened before and I feel…lost.”

  And hated.

  Margery and Victor are great, but their idea of helping me involves clothes and antique magazines.

  “Cameron told me. That’s why I haven’t pushed you for more contact. I don’t want you stressing more about shit. You doing okay though?”

  Ah, ever the protector.

  “Yes. No? Not really? I keep having these nightmares about being shoved, and when I spoke to Cameron about it, he went totally mental. I don’t…”

  Don’t cry or he’ll be over here so fast your head will spin. And then he’ll kick the shit out of the father of your baby…er…babies.

  “Tell me then, baby.”

  “Well, I finally got to the part where I looked up just before I fell and I swear, I think I saw Cameron’s brother. How crazy is that? I think I may have met the guy a time or two or something, but they say that he died months ago, and so that makes it impossible for him to have done it. I dunno, I think I’m losing my mind.”

  “Er, baby? You did a little more than just meet the guy a time or two,” Alec says slowly, hesitantly.

  My skin starts prickling, and I feel my head start to pound when I hear a weary sigh and then what sounds like a cigarette lighter flicking on.

  “I did? Are you smoking?”

  “Yup, no lectures. It’s my one vice besides drinking and meaningless sex. And yeah, you were…I shouldn’t be telling you this after what the doctors said.”

  “Spill it, Mallory! I’m having the worst freaking week, and with the new baby, my hormones are going whacky so you may as well know that I—”

  “New baby?” he cuts in, his voice sharp and hard. “You’re pregnant? Again! That…you need to get the hell out of there and get home. Bring your daughter. I’ll—”

  “Alec! Calm down. It’s no big deal, babe. Cameron and I are…we’re happy to have another child so soon. Angel will have a playmate close in age and—”

  “Shaw, sweetheart…I worried about you when you just left and went with the guy, especially…but I let it go because you sounded so happy about it. God, I even let it go when I wanted to fly over and your fiancé told me not to. I’ve accepted a lot of this shit in hopes that eventually you’d remember everything and come to your senses but this…tell me something? Did Cameron even hint at why you’d be dreaming about his brother, never mind dreaming that the prick shoved you down a flight of stairs?” he asks, his voice going dark and sinister.

  “No?”

  “Because he doesn’t want you to remember anything! Jesus, I should have seen this freaking coming. What did he tell you in the hospital?”

  I think back, wracking my brain for anything that sticks out, but all I remember is an attentive, gentle man who’d stuck to me like freaking glue at every turn.

  I’d thought it sweet and his way of showing me love, but now, with the abrupt about face, I’m kinda guessing he’s not so much in love with me as he wants to watch my every move.

  “Nothing much. Just, you know, that we’re engaged, and that he was so worried that I wouldn’t wake up. Molly said he was out of his mind when he saw me.”

  Still a heart melter that one.

  “Shaw, I hate to ask you this, but did he say anything about Angelica or…Robert?”

  “No. I didn’t even know about the guy till a few days ago, and believe you me, I am not about to mention his name again. Cameron goes loco.”

  Another sigh. This one tired and frustrated, as if he’s struggling with something.

  “You know him much better than you think. A hell of a lot better than your man is telling you, baby. Robert Stone is—”

  The phone is snatched out of my hand before he can complete the sentence, and I find Cameron looming over me, a hard look on his face before he barks into the phone and then drops it to the floor, crushing it savagely beneath his foot.

  “Hey! You just trashed my phone! I was talking there!”

  “I know. About a topic I warned you is not up for discussion.”

  Eyes closing on a weary sigh, I rise to my feet and walk to the interconnecting door, not even bothering to argue at this point. I could. I could yell and demand answers, and maybe even slap him a little, but it’s a waste of time and energy, and I know it.

  For some reason, the guy has totally flipped a three sixty, and everything I say and do is rubbing him the wrong way.

  Whatever.

  Pushing the door open, I walk into the nursery and feel a wide smile spread over my lips. That’s my ray of sunshine right there, staring at me through a set of baby blue peepers that have the ability to turn my heart to mush and my mood to jelly.

  She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever done in my shitty life and I know it, even if I don’t remember how she came to be or how she got here. I’m just thankful that she did and that I have her to brighten what is fast becoming torture.

  “Hello, baby girl. Did you miss your mama? Come on here sugar and give me some love.”

  She reaches for me, her joy and unconditional love a balm I need now, desperately. I kiss her head and breathe in her smell before lowering my shirt and pulling her to my breast, my chest tweaking, as it always does when she looks up at me in thanks and adoration.

  At least someone wants and needs me.

  “You’re so perfect. Yes, you are. Wanna tell mama why you’ve taken to sleeping through the night so early? I miss you when we don’t wake up at midnight. Or two in the morning. Or four.”

  I’m being ridiculous, and I know it, but talking to my kid about her asshole father doesn’t seem right to me so I need something to say.

  “She wakes up. I give her milk from the fridge and put her back down.” Cameron growls from the doorway, his eyes glued to my breast and the little girl attached to it.

  The thought of him willingly depriving me of Angel just because he’s got a bug up his ass and wants to hurt me pisses me off more than anything else. I can take his insults and nastiness. I can accept that we aren’t in a place I’d so naively assumed we were, but I will not accept him using my daughter against me.

  Ever.

  “You have no right to do that. It’s my job to feed her, and I want to do it.” I hiss, keeping my voice low so as not to startle her. “Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean she doesn’t, and I resent you trying to put a barrier between us.”

  That, and this cold war he’s got going is pushing me to a desperate place I can’t stand to think about—in case I lose the tight grip I have on myself. I’ve been teetering on the verge of what feels like a panic attack for days now and have kept it all together purely by convincing myself that no, I’m not losing my mind.

  And I am not that pathetic loser who goes into depression just because some loser has decided to treat me like shit. I have options as Alec had so recently pointed out, and I don’t need him to live a decent life and raise my kid.

  We’re not married, something I am now very thankful for, and he can’t stop me from doing what I want. If I leave, he can have visitation or something. I dunno. I’m so confused, but at least I can think about what Alec said.

  “You’ve been tired lately with the sickness. I wanted to help.”

  Ah, the feeling and emotion, why however will I control myself when he’s being so giving…

  “Whatever this is…this game that you’ve been playing with me since the hospital, you can stop it. I know that we aren’t together for any other reason than because of Angel. I’m going to remember everything eventually, and when I do,
you can kiss us goodbye.”

  I see him stiffen before he looks up, his eyes nailing me to the spot. He’s pissed, angrier than I think is possible for another human being to be, and it makes me pause, regretting telling him my plans at all.

  “You will never take my children from me. Never. As far as games? Who’s playing games, Shaw? I knew from that very first day that you were a liar. I should have trusted my instincts instead of allowing myself to see only what I wanted. And now…what could you possibly get from telling me that Robert pushed you?”

  He sounds so bewildered that I have the urge to apologize and assure him that…what? Either I am right, which is physically impossible, since his brother is stone cold dead and in the ground, or he’s engaged to a woman who is losing her marbles.

  There’s no comfort in any of those things. Nothing I say will help me here, not with him.

  “Leave me alone. Just go to work and leave me alone.”

  I’m no quitter, not since the summer Gloria had sold the goldfish I’d bought with money I’d earned waiting tables for the two bucks she was short on another bottle.

  I’d worked even harder and bought another one, this time hiding the poor thing in the shed out back. Too bad it had been ice cold and no environment for a fragile animal. I’d had to flush it a day later, but it had been a victory for me.

  Now, I don’t stop until I get what I want. At least I never did before. Now I’m too tired to actually care.

  “So that you can ring your brother and plot some more? You want to take my daughter and my unborn child from me, Shaw? Is that what you’ve planned this whole time? Get as much on me as you can so I’ll do or pay whatever your greedy little arse wants?”

  He’s getting more furious, and I realize that I don’t want or need this around my girl. I see she’s finished and drooping, so I lay her down gently with a kiss before stalking back to the room, Cameron hot on my heels.

  “Look,” I say, holding my hand up not only to shut him up but also to halt his progression and keep some distance between us. “I don’t know what our relationship was before, and right now, I don’t think I care. All I know is that I got out of the hospital and you fed me so full of bullshit that it’s a miracle I’m not fertilizing half the freaking island! You’re tired of pretending now? Fine. Let’s be real. I’m miserable here. I don’t know anyone because I can’t remember them and I am terrified that—”