The Owner's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance Book 4)

by Kimberley Montpetit

  The Owner’s Secret

  A Secret Billionaire Romance

  Kimberley Montpetit

  THE OWNER’S SECRET

  A Secret Billionaire Romance

  Copyright © 2018 by Kimberley Montpetit

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Spellbound Books

  Published in the United States of America

  Contents

  The Owner’s Secret

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Kimberley Montpetit

  Dear Romance Lover

  THE NEIGHBOR’S SECRET: A Secret Billionaire Romance

  THE EXECUTIVE’S SECRET: A Secret Billionaire Romance

  The Owner’s Secret

  A Secret Billionaire Romance

  by

  Kimberley Montpetit

  Chapter 1

  Britt Mandeville threw open the double carved doors of the White Castle mansion, giving a chivalrous bow while he swept out a hand in a gentlemanly gesture. "Welcome to our new home, darling," he told Crystal, his girlfriend of the past year.

  A tiny frown appeared between Crystal's eyebrows as she stepped across the threshold and entered the marbled foyer. A look of dismay flickered in her eyes, but Britt caught her quickly washing it away so he wouldn't notice.

  His excitement dampened just a little, but he brushed it aside, he was so eager to show her the house he’d come to love so much.

  "It's very—old-fashioned, isn’t it?" Crystal commented, blinking her long, but probably not-quite-real eyelashes.

  "I've been working hard on the old place, and there's still a lot to be finished, but I hope you can see the great potential of this old Southern mansion. It's one of the few antebellum homes left in Louisiana."

  Crystal's stilettos stopped on the hall carpets. "What does antebellum mean, darling?" she asked, attempting to draw a smile across her ruby red lips.

  She stared at the foyer's old wooden floors and dusty chandelier sixteen feet overhead. Portraits and landscapes hung along the walls, and she openly frowned at those.

  Butterflies squirmed in Britt's gut as if he was a sixteen-year-old kid on a first date. He'd spent the last year renovating this stunning plantation house on the banks of the Mississippi, and he was so excited to show it off to the woman he was about to propose to—like in ten minutes.

  "Antebellum means before the Civil War."

  "Oh yes, there was a war here. But I thought it only happened in Georgia. You know, the burning of Atlanta?"

  Britt smiled at her indulgently. Despite growing up in Baton Rouge, Crystal had morphed into a New York City girl through and through. He could forgive her lack of knowledge, although as a previous history professor and antique collector he wished she might take an interest in the passions of his life. "Atlanta was one of the war’s battles, a big one, and a terrible one," he explained.

  "Very dramatic in Gone with the Wind," Crystal murmured. "I'm confused though. Who are all the people in these pictures?" she asked, her eyes roaming the large framed paintings. "They don't look familiar at all."

  "They're portraits of the people who built the house a hundred and seventy-five years ago. It's on my research list. But look at this original painting of the property taken just a year after it was built. No landscaping or fences yet, just cows in the distant fields and chickens in the yard. A piece of Americana lost to the past."

  Crystal's nose wrinkled. "It smells a little funny in here, don’t you think? Very musty. Maybe it just needs air freshener."

  "It's been raining for almost three days straight with the hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico so the humidity brings out the antique furniture’s age." He moved closer to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm just glad you were able to fly in before the airport closed."

  "Don't remind me. I thought the winds were going to rip the plane right out of the air. I should never have agreed to come out during hurricane season. September is the worst."

  "We're more than a hundred miles from the storm and safe here. Just the two of us. It's going to be a romantic weekend, Crystal. We finally get some time alone to talk about our future. I thought this was the perfect place to do it. No phones, no other guests staying overnight. I let the staff for the historical tours return home to prepare for the storm. Depending on what happens, we won’t see them for days, maybe even a week or two. The grounds are already so saturated I can't work outside on the new gazebo construction. You have my undivided attention all weekend.”

  She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and then abruptly asked, "Did someone already bring my luggage inside? Is there a bellhop around?"

  "I'm your bellhop, cook, and housekeeper." Britt wished Crystal could see that this was a grand old place, rustic and charming—not the Park Plaza with a dozen servants and assistants at her beck and call. "My official title is head landscaper."

  "But a landscaper doesn't have much of a salary. You need to come back to New York. You've had your fun helping the owner fix this place up, and now it's time to leave this silliness and return to the real world. Besides, you know I'm ready to quit my job as Hillary's assistant at the agency, and you gave me the impression you could support us. In the manner to which I've become accustomed," she added meaningfully, standing on tiptoe to kiss him again.

  Britt felt himself melt against her lips. It had been several weeks since they'd seen each other. During that time, he'd spent every weekend in Baton Rouge or New Orleans searching for the perfect diamond ring which was now burning a hole in his pocket.

  Maybe it was just the dreary weather caused by the looming hurricane surrounding them on all sides. Or perhaps he was just tired after putting in extra-long days getting the perfect guest room ready for Crystal.

  His hopes had been high, and he had imagined her excitement to explore each room with its history and beautiful Old South Victorian-era details.

  At the moment, she was staring at the large rugs in the foyer and biting at her lip. It was true that they were getting worn, and the patterns were fading, but they were over a hundred years old.

  The history of this place was incredible, but maybe that was the boring history teacher in him talking.

  "Come to the ballroom," Britt said, taking her hand to tug her down the grand hall. "It's not a huge room like some of the old houses, but the white marble floor is stunning, and the crystal chandeliers are one-of-a-kind."

  The elegant marble ballroom was the perfect location to get down on one knee and snap open the
ring box where a large marquise diamond clustered with ruby chips waited to go on Crystal's finger.

  When they neared the double arched doorway of the ballroom, Crystal allowed her hand to fall from his.

  "Honestly, Britt, I’m exhausted. I'd love to go upstairs and unpack and take a nap. The roads were a mess getting up here, plus I haven't eaten all day. Where's the kitchen?"

  "Um, it's downstairs actually, and a bit of a mess. I bought groceries for a weekend here, but I haven't prepared a meal yet."

  "Dinner isn't ready?"

  "I'd planned dinner for later this evening, just the two of us, as we celebrate—" Britt stopped, not wanting to give away the fact that the delicious dinner he was going to prepare was supposed to be a celebration of their engagement—after he got down on one knee and did the actual proposing.

  Introducing her to the mansion wasn't going quite as he'd hoped. All he'd wanted to do was show off all his hard work and have her fall into his arms when she saw the ring.

  Crystal ran a hand along the rope cording that partitioned off the library and front parlor rooms. "I can’t walk into these rooms on the main floor? I'm not five years old and going to break the valuables."

  "Of course not," Britt assured her. "These are the rooms that are on the daily house tour, and the furniture is so old we have rope barriers to prevent tourists from touching the antiques or the fragile furniture."

  "You never mentioned daily tours," Crystal said almost accusingly. "There will be people tramping around the house when I wake up in the morning?"

  He leaned in to kiss her forehead. "No, the house is closed until after the hurricane is over. I think you'll feel better after you've had a chance to see your room and unpack. Take a brief nap while I fix dinner."

  With a sly smile, Crystal walked her fingers up the length of his chest. Seductively sliding her arms around his neck, she stood on tiptoe to bring her face close to his. After kissing him lightly on the lips, she whispered, "Why don't we take a little nap together?"

  Britt returned the embrace, whispering in her ear. "We promised each other that we'd wait for our honeymoon."

  "But we're alone right now," Crystal said, leaning in to brush her body against his while she kissed his neck.

  "Crystal," he whispered with a low groan. Perhaps bringing her here was a mistake. "Yes, all the tourists have gone home as well as Mrs. Benoit, the tour guide, but I'm the caretaker nights and weekends, too. I live here round the clock."

  "Then we have no reason to worry about listening ears or someone walking in on us," Crystal added. "Let’s pretend tonight is our honeymoon."

  "I was going to wait until dinner to do this," Britt finally said to distract her. "But we can make it official right now."

  He got down on one knee at the foot of the mahogany staircase.

  "No, no, no," Crystal said, waving her hands in the air. "Have you no sense of when to propose?"

  "I thought maybe you wanted to elope tonight. We could probably find a justice of the peace. I know the man personally. White Castle is a tiny village."

  Crystal put a finger to her chin and pursed her lips. "Before we make any rash decisions, show me the rest of the house."

  "I don't quite understand. We've been dating for a year, and I thought you were ready to make our relationship permanent." He paused meaningfully. "You're even trying to lure me upstairs."

  Crystal gave him a catlike smile and slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow. "Show me the house that you're going to give me first."

  Her flirtatiousness was typical Crystal, to play silly games with him and his heart. She was so stylish, well-dressed, funny and coy that he often fell for her little games.

  Britt went along with her request and proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes giving her a personal tour of the White Castle mansion.

  "This place has an amazing history. It's on the historic register and open seven days a week from nine to five." He went on to describe the history of the house, how Union soldiers took over the place during the Civil War, and the father of the household escaped with his slaves to Texas to keep them safe.

  It was one of his favorite subjects, but it wasn't until they had walked out to the newly planted gardens and the fountains he'd designed and built that he realized how quiet Crystal had become. She didn't make a single comment, or ask any questions about the renovation or his job here.

  Finally, she said, almost bored. "I thought you were going to buy me a castle."

  He quirked an eyebrow, puzzled. "This is a castle."

  "Buy me one near London, and I'll consider it," Crystal said, covering up a yawn with her hand. “There are people in London, including the theater, shopping, nightlife."

  Now that they were at the front of the property where the long curving drive led up to the house, she gazed at the trees, then cast a glance toward the Mississippi River. "There aren’t any neighbors?" she asked. "How close is the nearest town and airport?"

  "You came through the village on the way to the house," Britt reminded her.

  Crystal whirled on her heels, her eyes widening. “Main Street wasn't even half a mile long. Where's the closest airport?"

  "Baton Rouge," Britt reminded her. “But you already know that.”

  "The roads are so bad, it took me well over an hour to drive the thirty miles." Crystal stuck her hands on her hips. "Britt, I don't think you've been very honest with me. You know I'm not a country girl in the slightest. There's not a blasted thing to do out here! You don't want me to go out of my mind, do you? Besides, I thought you were going to buy us a mansion, and we'd spend holidays there while we lived in my penthouse in New York."

  "I'm sorry if I misled you, darling. I was hired to do this renovation—on top of my full-time job, so purchasing a mansion or mini-castle is still up in the air. But I was hoping we could pick a wedding date this weekend before I have to go to Savannah for that big estate auction."

  "Why would you take on two jobs?" Crystal asked, frown lines creasing between her eyes. "You're overextended. You haven't been to New York to visit me in a month."

  "I love finding unusual antiques around the world. Hey, I'm a history nerd who sometimes wishes he could live in the past when life was simple and friends and neighbors were relationships for life."

  "But we can have an elegant life in New York!" Crystal glanced at Britt through her lashes and pouted, a flirty gesture Britt had often found endearing, but at the moment, was beginning to annoy him. She hadn't listened to him over the last hour, just brushed aside his dreams.

  His stomach sank. Britt had thought they were ready to commit and walk down the aisle. How could he have been so blinded by her beauty and social skills?

  Crystal chewed on her bottom lip. "It sure is sweltering and sticky here, isn't it?" she said, staring at the line of oak trees dripping with spanish moss in the twilight.

  "The rain makes it worse, but it'll pass. Hurricanes don't last forever."

  "I think,” she said, her words speeding up. “We're in our very own relationship hurricane right now, and I'm not sure we're going to survive the storm, Britt."

  His gut tightened. "What do you mean?"

  She shrugged. "Growing up in Baton Rouge, I always wanted to become a Parisian Princess, not a Southern Belle. I’ve become an East Coast girl. You know that."

  "Via Charleston," he said, reminding her of where they’d originally met.

  She gave a sad laugh. "Please quit this silly renovation job and let's go house hunting in the Hamptons or Martha’s Vineyard where we belong."

  Britt gazed up at the white three-story mansion, and its sweeping double staircases that led to the main front doors. "Being here is like a dream come true for me. As if I'm finally home. I hoped you would feel the same way. This property is a place to raise kids and let them run wild. Ride horses. Build a boat and sail the Mississippi on the weekends.”

  Crystal blinked her eyes in disbelief. "It's like I don't know you at all, Britt Mandeville.
"

  "The Mandeville family originally came from Louisiana. I can’t explain it, but being here feels right."

  "Haven't you heard that buying a house together brings out the worst in people?" Crystal let out a discomfiting laugh while she flung a disparaging hand at the house. "But this old fixer-upper has to go."

  Britt stared at her, hurt and confusion like a fresh wound in his chest. She hadn't heard a word he'd said. Maybe this was all his fault. He should have known this woman better than he apparently did. He cleared his throat, the words coming out stilted. "I think we need some space, Crystal."

  "We could have a villa in Tuscany—" Crystal broke off, glancing up at the dismal sky when rain began to drizzle again. "Oh, for heaven's sake, could this day get any worse? There goes my makeup!"

  "Yeah, it could get worse,” he said sadly. “The last ten minutes just proved that."

  She glared at her shoes, mud sticking to the pointy heel. "Does this mean I'm not going to get my diamond ring?"

  Britt gazed at her, shocked at her brazenness. "Of course you can have your diamond ring." He withdrew the ring box from his slacks pocket and handed it over. "Take it, keep it. I bought it for you."

  Crystal let out a small squeal when she snapped open the box and saw the large, glittering diamond. Immediately, she slid the ring onto her left hand, admiring it under the hanging lights from the cypress trees. "It's stunning, Britt. You do have good taste."

  "At least I know what you want in your jewelry," he said drily.