Hard Flip_A Billionaire Romance

by Allyson Lindt

  She hated those demons. Wished she could exorcize them for good.

  As the weekdays ticked by, everything outside her head went smoothly. She caught up quickly at work, and settled in at home. Mischa was as attentive as before, but that didn’t stop her from asking herself if he was doing it for the right reasons.

  Kelly spent more time at home than she had when they lived in the apartment. Ash suspected part of it was because Emma didn’t live around the corner anymore, though her mother didn’t mind the drive. After work, Mischa showed Kelly new tricks. They spent a lot of time in the empty pool, skating.

  Ash liked seeing her sister have so much fun, but it also made the pit in her gut grow.

  Friday evening, she and Mischa were heading home from work for the night, when a friendly shout from Tristan stopped them.

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “What’s tomorrow?” Ash asked.

  Mischa winced. “Shit. I forgot. I thought it was next week.”

  “Tomorrow,” Tristan repeated.

  “What is?” A sick pit grew in her gut, linked to a dread she couldn’t identify.

  Mischa turned to her. “Summer Splash.”

  Her head whirled at the familiar phrase. Fuck.

  “It’s this family picnic thing.” Mischa’s tone said he didn’t notice this had knocked the bottom out of her world. “One of our financers throws it. I was telling you about it when we got engaged.”

  Except he never mentioned it by name. Then again, she’d never mentioned her father by name, either. Apparently now was the time to have that conversation about who she was and why her sister lived with her. Maybe not in front of Tristan though.

  She kept her mask in place, waving and smiling as Mischa promised they’d be there tomorrow, and followed him outside. Please don’t let this explode in my face.

  Chapter Fifteen

  MISCHA SAW ASH’S EXPRESSION slip as soon as he said Summer Splash, but the office didn’t seem like the right place to ask why.

  “You never mentioned details before.” Ash’s voice was so soft, he barely heard it over the engine.

  He navigated evening traffic. “I didn’t really think about it. I mentioned the picnic, right?”

  “You did. And you couldn’t have known, since I didn’t tell you. I wanted to, I just hadn’t figured out how, and I didn’t think it was this kind of relevant. I was just looking for a way to... be honest with you.”

  That sounded ominous. “Known what?”

  “I know what Summer Splash is.”

  “Okay?” He didn’t care for the way she was dragging this out, especially after throwing out a random comment about honesty.

  “Because I went every year growing up. Because Ralph Wolfram is my—our—father.”

  Fucking hell. So Mischa had either stepped into the Twilight Zone—the preferable option—or the man who would repossess one of his properties in less than thirty days was the father of his fake fiancée. He paused, hoping to hear Rod Serling narrating.

  “Say something?” Ash sounded timid. Almost scared.

  What was he supposed to say? “Well, shit.”

  “Good shit or bad shit?”

  He didn’t know. “You can’t drop this in my lap, and then pretend it’s nothing.”

  She touched his arm. “I didn’t—and I’m not—doing anything of the sort.”

  “I’m still trying to piece together how this makes sense.” It wasn’t a difficult puzzle to put together, but for some reason his brain was sticking on the details. “Your last name isn’t Wolfram. You said your parents were dead—”

  “I said my parents were out of the picture. And I had my name legally changed when I was sixteen and emancipated.”

  That didn’t reassure him. It felt like a setup, but that couldn’t be right. Even from an upside-down and twisted perspective, that wasn’t logical.

  Ash sighed. “He’s your investor, isn’t he? The one who loaned you the money for the property. I guess I would have figured that out when I got further into your records. But when would that have come up? How do you picture that coming out? I tell you my father is a venture capitalist, the same way thousands of other people are, and that I walked away from his money because...Anyway, his name still wouldn’t come up in a case like that and... I’m sorry. I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

  “I think it’s too late for that.” Mischa was done. If he’d guessed any number of things she was keeping from him, this wouldn’t have made the top one-hundred list. It wasn’t the same kind of crushing circumstance he went through with Victoria, but it had the potential to destroy his livelihood. Everything he’d worked to build over the last decade.

  “We can talk about this, right?” Pleading leaked into Ash’s voice.

  He shook his head. He couldn’t put his finger on why this bothered him so much. It came out of the blue, but life had a way of doing that.

  It wasn’t as though it would have a big impact on his relationship with Ralph Wolfram. Estranged daughter or not, Mischa didn’t plan on doing business with the man again. If the other man kept tabs on his daughters at all, he’d know this engagement was a lie...

  But none of that lay at the core of his concern. He felt exposed, and she’d held something like this back.

  He was silent the rest of the ride home, and grateful she didn’t push for anything else. After he parked, he headed toward his workshop in the garage. He couldn’t speak. Didn’t have the words. Had no clue where to even begin. And she still wasn’t telling him everything. If she was only interested in doling out snippets of not-quite-meaningful information when she could, he wasn’t interested in listening.

  “Mischa?”

  He ignored her, and the invisible fist clenching around his chest, and walked away.

  He flipped on the overhead lights in his workshop, and sat at the bench. A board he’d started weeks ago lay unfinished in front of him. The deck was too wide, and he wanted to tweak the curve of the tail. This seemed like a perfect time to dive into it. The hands-on work always helped him blank his mind and slide into that meditative space where the outside world didn’t matter.

  Today that wasn’t the case. He stared at the curved piece of wood, willing it to inspire him—or at least give him answers. This wasn’t Ash’s fault. At least, he didn’t think so. Except the bit where she withheld information.

  If she was telling the truth though, that she didn’t realize there was a connection... Why am I questioning her honesty? Because this was so big, and she hid it.

  He grabbed a wheel, and dropped it on the truck, flipping it until it spun freely. The bearings needed to be looser.

  This couldn’t be a setup. There were too many variables.

  The logic didn’t help. The hurt and disappointment were still there, under every rational thought he had to tell himself why this wasn’t a big deal.

  There was a knock, and then the hinges creaked. “Do you have a minute?” Ash asked.

  He looked over his shoulder to see her step into the room, and close the door behind her. She didn’t move closer. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

  “I’m busy.” He wouldn’t reach out. Wouldn’t cave to the desire to comfort her. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I meant to say something. It won’t happen again. Ash’s voice overlapped with Victoria’s in his head.

  “Please?”

  Fuck. He hated the way she could do that. That single word, the way she said it, flipped a switch for him. “What?”

  “I want to tell you. I wanted to tell you before, but... Okay, I already covered that. I’d like to explain, if you’ll let me.”

  He finally faced her. “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll try to be objective, because you’re involved in a business deal with him, but it’s difficult, because of the situation.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” He couldn’t keep up the gruff much longer. She looked so uncertain and small, lingering near the door. He wanted to make this better,
but it wasn’t his to repair. It was the same impulse that got him in trouble with Victoria. Even if it felt different.

  “My mother is dead. You already know that. It was suicide. Kelly was six months old. When I look back, I can see the symptoms were there, though to hear my dad tell it...” She drew in a shaky breath. “Sorry. I’m sticking to the facts. The next few years after Mom passed were hard, as you probably expect, but Dad adored Kelly, so she got plenty of love and attention. She never knew more than one parent, so I don’t think she missed it too much.”

  The invisible grip on his chest was squeezing tighter. “What about you?”

  “I was old enough that it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “You would have been ten.”

  Her chin wavered, and she furrowed her brow. For a moment he swore she was going to cry. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not part of the story.”

  He clenched his jaw. He didn’t know which he disliked more—where the story was going, or that she continued to hold back. That wasn’t true. He hated that she felt there were things she still couldn’t say, for whatever reason.

  “A few years later, I moved out. Dad had always spent time away from home, but those patches grew longer and more frequent. Kelly needed someone to watch her. I took her with me, and the arrangement became permanent. So, there you have it.”

  Bullshit. “What really happened?”

  She stared at her feet. The wall behind his head. Anywhere but him. “That’s it. Nothing more to say.”

  “Which is why, when we met, you were living in poverty, even though your father is worth billions. And why you said you were emancipated at sixteen. And why the scars on the insides of your forearms make you uncomfortable.” Damn it, why did he say that? Or notice? Or care? Fuck, of course he cared. “Don’t tell me because you feel obligated. I don’t want to hear it unless you trust me with it.”

  “I do.”

  “Tell me, Ash.” He wanted to be there for her. Even if it turned out to be a mistake.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I know what Dad’s boilerplate contract looks like, and which parts he’s unwilling to budge on. Did you know how bad it was when you signed?”

  It was an odd tangent, but not completely off topic, so he’d go with it. “Yes.”

  “Why did you sign it?”

  “The block was a labor of love for me. No one was willing to step up but Ralph, and I was certain someone else would see the same beauty I did in the architecture.”

  “In that case, I hope you pull through this before he sinks his claws in. I hoped it anyway, but that reinforces it.” She fiddled with her cast. “Are you sure you want to hear the real story?”

  He didn’t know how to make himself more clear. “Yes.”

  She crossed one arm over her chest to grab her other arm. “After my mother died, Dad blamed me. It’s taken me a long time to reconcile that it wasn’t actually my fault. And before you ask, he was very clear about his feelings on the situation. I wasn’t imagining it.”

  “I don’t doubt you for a moment.”

  When she met his gaze, her eyes were clear, and some of the despair was gone. “Everyone else does.”

  “I’m not everyone else.”

  “I’m starting to realize that.” She almost smiled, then dragged in another shaky breath. “Don’t misunderstand, Dad didn’t beat us, or abuse us, or anything like that. I left for my sanity. I thought Kelly would be okay, because he’d always doted on her. But...” Ash furrowed her brow. “It started with her showing up at my apartment after school. She was only seven. She didn’t like being home alone, so I let her stay with me for a few hours every day before Dad got home. He hadn’t arranged for anyone else to look after her.”

  Mischa’s fury ticked up again, but none of it was directed at Ash. He clenched his fist and kept his mouth shut.

  “The time she spent with me grew longer, and more frequent. A couple of years later, he left her alone for the weekend. Said she could call the neighbor if she needed anything, but she was a big girl, she’d be fine. She showed up on my porch Friday night. He called Sunday and told her he’d be gone a couple extra days. I was done at that point.”

  He could see why. He wanted to deck the man now. Asshole. “What did you do?”

  “I told him Kelly didn’t deserve that. If he didn’t want a daughter, he didn’t have to be stuck with one. I moved Kelly in with me. He said I’d figure out real quick that idealism was prettier than reality, and once I figured out how hard it was to work full time, go to school, and be a parent, I’d send her back. He promised me when I did that, I’d never see her again.”

  “Мудак.” That explained why Ash wouldn’t leave Kelly alone overnight. And so many other odd quirks. His heart was breaking for them, and at the same time, a cold rage flowed through him at Ralph Wolfram. He held out his hand.

  Ash crossed the distance between them, and grasped his fingers.

  He tugged her closer, pulling her between his legs and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You don’t have to deal with that. We’ve got this.”

  She draped her arms over his shoulders and studied him. On the stool he was almost at eye-level with her. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do any of this. I wouldn’t blame you if you kicked us out right now.”

  “It never even crossed my mind. We’re engaged. In this together.”

  “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

  “True. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” He rested his forehead against hers.

  “You know this will make things awkward tomorrow,” Ash said.

  “We’ll manage.” Mischa focused on holding her. The heat of her skin against his. The weight of her body. He had no idea what to do about the bad business deal, and had a feeling cut me a break, I’m engaged to your daughter wouldn’t work. But he couldn’t let her deal with her side of things alone. He wanted to think it was because he was a considerate kind of guy. If he were honest with himself though, it was because he couldn’t stand to see her hurt. He wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe forever.

  And that impulse felt like the most dangerous part of this entire arrangement.

  Chapter Sixteen

  DAD WAS BACK IN THEIR lives. He had the potential to ruin Mischa’s business.

  No matter where Ash directed her attention, those two thoughts played on repeat through dinner, and after Kelly vanished to her room for the night.

  Ralph Wolfram specialized in deals like the one he had with Mischa—those high-risk investments driven by ego and passion—then swooped in with no remorse to claim the property at a fraction of what it was worth.

  Once upon a time she thought she was casting her father in an evil light because of how she felt about him. She’d seen enough of his deals, though, to know it wasn’t vilification—it was reality.

  “Hey.” Mischa tugged her fingers.

  Apparently, her wandering thoughts had her standing in the middle of the foyer, staring blankly at the wall. She shook her head to rattle things loose, and focused on him. “Hey.”

  “What can I do?”

  He was too sweet. Someone had actually brought a fairy tale prince to life. And given him tattoos and a sexy accent. “I’m processing it, is all.”

  “Come on.” He tugged her into the living room, and pulled her to sit on the couch next to him. “You need something to take your mind off things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Funny movies.”

  That sounded like a decent plan. The way his leg pressed against hers, and he held her hand, were already pushing away the clouds. More of the same, plus funny, couldn’t be a bad thing. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Blade Runner.”

  “Fuck, you’re old.” The retort slipped out before she could consider it. She bit her bottom lip and stared at him with wide eyes. “Sorry.”

  Mischa laughed. “Or Deadpool. That’s good, too.”

  She ad
ored that he got all her random references. “Blade Runner isn’t actually a comedy. You know that, right?”

  “Are you sure?” He frowned and twisted his face, as if deep in thought. “I’m supposed to take that seriously? Really?”

  The light joking helped lift her spirits. “Pretty sure a statement like that will get you lynched in a lot of places.”

  “Good thing we’re not in any of those places. You pick. Your favorite movie, and we’ll watch it. Unless it’s going to make you all introspective and shit. If you name some mopey-feely movie, I reserve the right to veto it.”

  “You don’t like movies with feels?”

  He rested his palm on her cheek and searched her eyes. “I don’t like seeing you unable to climb out of your own head.” He traced his thumb along her skin, and the barely-there contact sank into her bones. Another layer of comfort. “If you think a solid cry will help, we can watch Blade Runner.”

  A laugh slipped out, and she liked the way it felt. “For a movie I get the impression you don’t like, you’re sure fixated on watching it.”

  “What?” His voice was full of mock indignation. “There’s laughter. There’s uncontrollable sobbing. It’s a classic.”

  “I pick Cinderella.” She enjoyed the teasing, but if she let him keep up with the jokes, they might actually end up watching Blade Runner, and she suspected he didn’t want that.

  His raised eyebrow said he wasn’t so keen on the Cinderella idea, either. “Isn’t that a bit...”

  “True to life?”

  “I was going to say sing-songy.”

  “You said I could pick.” Her indignation held a hint of teasing. She’d just said the first movie that came to mind. “Besides, the singing—especially Gus Gus—is part of what takes the sting out of things.”

  “Compromise?” Mischa asked.

  “Between not-Blade Runner and Cinderella?”

  “Yes.”

  She racked her brain for what that might be, and came up blank. “How?”

  “The Princess Bride.”

  It really was like he’d been made in a Prince Charming mold. “All right, I’m in.”