A Collateral Attraction: A Romantic Suspense Novel (Fire and Ice Book 1)

by Liz Durano

  I'm not forgiving Heath Kheiron I'm not forgiving Heath Kheiron I'm not-

  "But I didn't lie about Ethan adding Blythe in as an employee, nor about the embezzlement of four million dollars deposited to the accounts with her name on them," he continues, though he pauses for a few moments as if he's debating just how much he's going to tell me. Why he's suddenly so talkative, I'm sure is just another one of his tactics to get me to drop my guard.

  "Funny thing is, my Father used to lose that amount in a day, even more, all because of bad investment choices," he says. “Just before he died, he used the majority of his shares as collateral in a series of bad investments that resulted in a margin call, prompting him to sell 2 million shares. No surprise there, but it caused company stock to drop. Not only that, but he’d managed to convince other people to invest, too. Wind turbines, that kind of thing.”

  I am not forgiving Heath Kheiron.

  "After he stepped down, Ethan took over, but that was only for three months. Ethan means well, but he's a polo player, not a businessman," Heath continues. "When stock cratered twice during his tenure as President, along with Jackson, who was surprisingly the VP, that's when the board forced them both to step down, and they appointed me and Tyler Crow to head the company."

  I don't even know why he's telling me all this, but I do remember him talking to someone named Tyler yesterday. Still, it's not like I'm about to forgive him, no matter what he says.

  "So all the money that's sitting in Swiss accounts with Blythe’s name on them is honestly just a drop in the bucket as far as the company is concerned," Heath continues. "But it doesn't change the fact that I have a responsibility to the Board, Billie, which means that even though it's a negligible loss for a company that's worth five billion, it's still one drop in that bucket that if left unattended will only get bigger. And its perpetrators will only grow bolder."

  I am not forgiving Heath-

  "While my brother may have added your sister as his employee so she has access to things already available to him like the penthouse or the company plane, I doubt he's involved in stealing money from a corporation he owns millions of shares of," he says. "He's certainly not going to risk everything for four million, not when his personal net worth is about a hundred million, give or take."

  Oh, please. And here I was thinking ten grand in savings was a big deal.

  “A few days ago, Ethan told me he was going to ask Blythe to marry him," Heath says, and my heart skips a beat. "He visited our mother in upstate New York to tell her the news, and while he was there, he took documents that belonged to her—documents that if exposed, could shame her—and depending on how people will use the same information, label me as a fraud.”

  "And there you have it!" I exclaim, startling even myself as my voice echoes in the bathroom. "That's what all this is really about! You were never concerned about the money Blythe was supposedly stealing, or about Ethan at all. It's those papers, because if exposed, the world will know that you're a fraud! Now that's original, Heath, coming from the man who can't stop calling my sister and me embezzlers."

  “Which you both are not,” he says. “But isn't that what we are, Billie, just labels? I'm the Chairman of the Board of Kheiron Industries, though depending who you talk to, I’m also a fraud for being a bastard, and therefore, not a real Kheiron.”

  “I knew it,” I mutter.

  “Ethan's a polo player, and you're a shop owner. And your sister, Blythe, is going to be my sister-in-law."

  There's a softness to his voice now, and the mantra that I've been saying again and again inside my head is slowly fading away. But then this is also the same man who asked me earlier what it would take for me to have sex with him.

  "Labels, my ass," I scoff. "Tell yourself that enough times, and you'll believe it, Heath. None of this is about me, Blythe, or that four million dollars. This whole thing is all about that piece of paper that will expose you as a fraud. This whole thing, this whole act, is all about you."

  "Billie, please open the door," he says.

  “Why? So you can insult me again? You're actually nicer when there's a barrier between us, so this arrangement right now is just fine, thank you very much."

  "Look, believe what you want to believe, Billie, but this isn't all about me. You're right about the red flags," he says. "We have protocols in place that alert us of fraud, allowing us to document everything as much as we can. That's why we didn't do anything for months. But because it involved someone my brother was crazy about, I didn’t want the Feds, or the IRS involved right away, not until I was sure I had enough proof. So all that time, I kept her alleged crime from my Board members!”

  “So did you get enough proof now? How do I even know that you don't have authorities waiting to arrest me when we land?”

  He doesn't answer me right away, and I hear movement behind the door. It almost seems like he's getting up from the floor, and I get up, too, wondering what he's going to do next.

  "And what if I do have people waiting for you, Billie? Because they are, just like they already have Blythe in custody.”

  I don't even wait for my mind to process what he just said. I yank the bathroom door open and rush out. Heath steps back just as I charge at him, all my decorum gone and I'm back at the playground and the children are taunting me, and Blythe is nowhere in sight to cut them down with her words. Instead, there's me, Boxing Billie, and the fists that always got me sent to detention. Only no principal is waiting to send me to detention this time, just the authorities ready to arrest me when we land.

  A right hook hits Heath’s cheek, and my left fist is already in motion. But Heath is ready. He grabs both my wrists and swiftly whips me around like I'm a rag doll. He spins me around and slams me roughly against the wall, pushing his body against mine. The sudden closeness catches me by surprise as he lifts my wrists above my head, pinning my wrists against the wall. He does this so quickly my head is spinning.

  He's breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, and I can smell the scent of his cologne. It unnerves me that my body recognizes the notes faster than my brain can process it, citrusy with a hint of spice. That and the feel of him so close to me makes my belly tighten, and my knees grow weak. My body betrays me even as courage deserts me. But I force myself to glare at him, meeting his blue-gray eyes without shame for what I'd just done though I am angry for losing my cool in the end.

  How could I let my emotions get the best of me when I'd been doing so well? I haven't hit anyone in three years, not since Andrew.

  "You can add assault to the rest of the charges; I don't care," I tell him, my words emerging between gasps. "But I'm not apologizing to you."

  "And I don't want you to.” His expression softens but as I try to push him off me, it’s no use for he's much stronger. Heath pins me even harder against the wall, my breasts pressing against his broad chest.

  "Is this what turns you on?" I ask. "Is this part of your plan? Insult them, lie to them, corner them, so that you can seduce them?"

  "No, I’m usually much smoother than this. But if you consider this foreplay, then maybe I should file it for later."

  "That's not what I meant," I whisper though my face is burning for it was exactly what I meant. My feelings are in turmoil, my mind filled with images of the things I want him to do to me, but I push them away as quickly as they come.

  Not with Heath, my mind screams, anyone but him. But right now, there's only him, still holding my wrists above my head, his face so close to my own, and his body's response pressing against my belly.

  "All I wanted, Billie, was for you to open that damn door."

  It takes me a few seconds to understand what he means. ”You mean, no one's waiting to arrest me? And Blythe is free?”

  "No to your first question, and yes to your second, so you can stop shaking now,” Heath says, releasing me abruptly. He turns away from me, and I see him rub his jaw with his hand. I hear a soft pop as he opens and closes his mouth.

  "
Are you okay? Did I land it?“

  “Not exactly, but it was still a hell of a right hook," he mutters.

  "Well, you deserved it."

  "You're right, I did," he says, turning to face me again as we stand in the narrow hallway. "Look, I'm sorry for insulting you and for not believing you when all you've ever done since I've met you was tell the truth."

  "That's because I was."

  "And you're right about me acting rattled because maybe I am,” he says. “I’m so rattled that I'm willing to travel with the only person I know who isn't affiliated in any way, shape or form, with Kheiron Industries, even if you're someone I barely know. And because of circumstances beyond our control, it also makes you the only person I'm willing to trust."

  "I wouldn't trust you any further than I could throw you."

  He chuckles drily, studying my face. "I wouldn't be too quick to say that, Billie, because right now, your options are just as limited as mine—and not just in the trust department. Which means we either have to work together and trust each other, or we go our separate ways like you said. You have your Plan B, after all, to find your sister yourself and take her home.”

  I glare at him. He better not be making fun of me because right now, that’s how it feels. I’m a California girl; I honestly have no idea where Saint Lucia even is.

  “But just because I'm willing to trust you doesn't mean I need you with me to get to my brother," Heath continues. "Whether those documents get leaked or not, I can weather the consequences, Billie, but your sister, on the other hand..."

  "She's expendable, I get it.”

  "What do you think will happen once whoever is framing her realizes that the corporation already knows and will make their move on Blythe? We've already limited her access to company property and funds though we have no control over her Geneva accounts, for they’re all under her name. So as far as the people behind the fraud, do you think they’d waste their time getting their hands on that money once they know her access to company assets have already been frozen? What do you think they’d do? Wait around, or hurry to Geneva?”

  I turn away from his gaze, not wanting to see the truth in his eyes.

  "If Blythe is as smart as you are, Billie, what do you think will happen once she realizes that she's being set up? How fast do you think your sister can run?"

  In her Louboutins, clearly not fast enough.

  8

  Truce

  With the delicate truce between us in place, Heath retreats to his seat with an ice pack pressed against his left cheek while I sit across from him, a file folder filled with all the information Heath's Loss Prevention Division has collected against Blythe. It actually has a much fancier name, but I prefer to use terms I can understand, since it's complicated enough, especially when all I see in all the pages of names, numbers and dates is Blythe's name.

  It's difficult to miss, what with massive amounts that are supposed to correspond to furniture requisitions for the penthouse, clothing purchases and spa sessions, and then some checks from Ethan in the thousands, and a million here and there. It's as if Blythe herself is waving a huge red flag with the words FRAUD all over the place. It's so obvious it's laughable.

  By the time I'm halfway through the folder, I've got a raging headache, and the flight attendant brings me a cup of coffee. As if trying to make me feel better, she tells me that Heath's chair is called the VIP seat, which has the master control panel for the cabin's interior, controlling everything from the temperature to the entertainment and lighting. Heath even dims the light above me and switches on the TV screen in front of me, and when I look at him, unimpressed and mouthing the word show-off, he smiles sheepishly.

  We should be discussing our plans the moment we reach Saint Lucia, but it's as if we've both reached our word limit for the day, and we're actually enjoying the silence. Or at least, I am, for Heath is back to working on figures and numbers on the touchscreen in front of him, even making a brief phone call to Tyler about some acquisition of a packaging company and plans to meet in Santa Barbara. I don't ask what Santa Barbara is about, not when as far as I'm concerned, my plan is only finding Blythe and getting her back to New York as soon as I can.

  "Would you like to sit here?" Heath asks, getting up from his VIP seat. He reminds me of a boy offering another child a piece of candy from his lunch box if only trying to make her feel better.

  I don't think twice. I get up, and we switch seats. As Heath stands along my left side, he points out things on the touchscreen in front of me. I learn that not only does the VIP seat control the temperature of the plane outside of the cockpit, lighting and even window shades, it also has control of outside cameras.

  I turn to look at him, his face so close to mine though this time, there's no animosity between us. Not only that, but he's grinning. "Cameras?"

  "Of course. They’re on the outside of the plane," he says, reaching in front of me to tap a few icons on the screen, "just in case we see pigs fly."

  And there are—cameras, that is, not pigs. There is a camera mounted at the tail where one can see the surroundings during flight or upon landing, and before deplaning to make sure the area is safe. He tells me that it's crucial to know that the area around the plane is clear, especially when he has to fly to dangerous cities like Bogota, Columbia, and once, just before a coup erupted, Caracas, Venezuela.

  But it's the camera in the belly of the plane that interests me more as the captain informs us that we're getting ready to land, and Heath tells me to remain where I am as he takes the seat in front of me. Watching the landing gear come down and then seeing a perfect landing on the screen reminds me of a video game, and I can't help but grin the entire time as I watch the whole thing unfold on the screen.

  Once we land, I'm greeted by a cool tropical breeze that makes me happy not to have changed from the white dress I wore the day before. Except for my high heels, the whole get-up is perfect. I should have asked Heath or one of the flight attendants where my suitcases were, but then I figure, what was a few more hours?

  According to Heath's original plan, we'd be here for only a day, just enough time to meet with Harris Colman, one of the Directors of the Board, before tracking down Ethan and Blythe. I can’t help but feel disappointment at the realization that I might not even get the chance to bury my toes in the sand, though I quickly remind myself that I'm not here on vacation. I'm here to get Blythe out of trouble—even if I have to do it with her kicking and screaming.

  From the airport, it's a helicopter ride to Harris' estate. It's my first time riding in a helicopter, and while it scares the hell out of me, the view is magnificent enough to distract me. Barely seven in the morning and thinking that maybe it's too early to visit Harris, Heath asks the pilot to give us a tour of the island.

  For the next forty-five minutes, I learn as much I can about Saint Lucia as the pilot flies over Castries, Marigot Bay, the Pitons and the Soufriere volcano. I learn all about the number one export (bananas), the weather (tropical), and a brief history of the island having been a colony of France, and then England, and now one of the Windward Islands of the Lesser Antilles.

  I'm not even aware that I've been holding Heath's hand with a death grip till we land on a rooftop helipad, and with our heads low, hurry towards the stairs that lead down to the main grounds. When Heath shakes his wrist to restore circulation, I apologize profusely, but he only shrugs and smiles, his dimples making him appear more youthful.

  Harris' estate has a gorgeous view of the Pitons, almost the same view that Blythe posted online, and my heart catches in my throat when the memory of our conversation returns to me. But it's not her harsh words that hit me hard. It's the questions that come to me now after everything that Heath has told me.

  Is the person behind the embezzlement traveling with her? I wonder if they're watching Blythe when she's not looking, talking to her and gaining her blind trust. I wonder if they think her just a silly woman in love, too blind to realize that she's been set
up and that soon, her world is about to crumble beneath her feet.

  But the questions flee from my mind when I see the lush green gardens at the bottom of the steps. Knowing that we're only going to be on the island for a few hours before heading back to New York, I decide to go for it. I leave Heath on the steps and rush towards the first patch of green grass I see, hopping about as I slip my shoes off along the way.

  The moment my bare feet touch the soft grass, it feels like being home again, though this time instead of mountain air and the smell of the Yuba River, I take a big gulp of fresh island air, catching the scents of sweet flowers and the ocean. On one of the branches a few feet away from me is the most colorful parrot I've ever seen. It squawks, and I can't help but laugh out loud.

  I only regain my composure when I notice that Heath is watching me with a bemused smile on his face, and he’s not alone. An older man with a thick head of gray hair and a young girl who is about ten years old stand next to him. She's yawning, and apparently, she's just gotten out of bed, her short hair still standing in places. She's wearing a pink polka dot pajama top with spaghetti straps, paired matching pajama bottoms. Clearing my throat, I slip my shoes back on and walk as demurely as I can back to the main stairs.

  "Sorry about that," I mumble.

  "Don't apologize, Billie. It was adorable," Heath says.

  "Maybe you should try it some time, Heath. All work and no play is making you such a dull boy," I mutter under my breath.

  The older man laughs. "And you're right, my dear. Heath really should let loose once in a while, and maybe, this time, he will. He barely ever allows himself to relax.”

  I look at Heath as if telling him, see? Even he agrees with me.

  “I’m Harris Colman, by the way, and this is my granddaughter, Pam." He turns to face Heath. "When Pam heard you were coming, she told me to wake her up no matter what time it was so she could meet your girl."