by Lexi Aurora
Nestled inside was the most god-awful looking statue I had ever seen. It was two lovers wrapped around each other and dipped in gold paint. If she gave that to Graham Porter, she might lose her job, and then I’d lose mine.
At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself when I made the order to have Porter Shipping personalized on the carved model ship and returned the statue. The truth was that Darleen would never know until it was too late, and then she’d never admit that the ship wasn’t her idea when she saw how happy it made her boss.
Maybe she’d even give me a raise.
I finished the errands and rearranging Mr. Porter’s schedule, and the gift was ready just before the store closed. I paid for the gift-wrap and headed home. Maybe tonight, the damn sign would be out completely, and I’d be able to get some sleep.
Chapter Two- Graham
I stared in frustration at the computer in front of me and tried not to smash it to bits. There were a million things on my to-do list, and I couldn’t remember the first one of them because my personal assistant had called in sick and failed to email me my schedule like she normally did.
Miles, my cousin, lounged in the chair across from my desk and kicked up his feet. We looked similar enough with dark hair and green eyes that he could have been my brother, but as far as personality went, we were night and day. I was reminded of that as I eyed his polished sized-thirteen shoe on my clean desk. “Don’t you have something else to do other than bug me?” I snapped. “I thought you were leaving for New York today.”
He chuckled. “Who knew that the great Graham Porter would be defeated by a computer calendar? Why don’t you just call the damn woman and ask her to email it to you? Surely a cold wouldn’t keep her from that.”
“I tried,” I muttered darkly. “I’m fairly certain that she’s getting lipo or more Botox done. She was pretty much yelling at herself while she stared in the mirror yesterday.”
My cousin shuddered. “Is there anything natural about that woman?”
Everything about Darleen Mason, from her permed, bottle-blonde hair to her bejeweled toenails were fake. I still wasn’t sure why the hell she worked for me because I wasn’t paying her nearly enough for those Double-Ds or the calf implants that she’d gotten to make her legs look shapelier. “Her eyelashes fell off the other day,” I grunted. “Why the hell do women wear fake eyelashes?”
“She’s hoping a few more surgeries might finally make her pretty enough to land you as a husband,” Miles barked with laughter. “If only she knew how much you hated gold-diggers.”
It was part of the reason that I would never settle down. Women were fun, hell, women were a necessity, but they were only good for a night or two before they started dreaming about glittering diamonds and shiny new cars, and hell would freeze over before I trusted a woman enough to deck her out in jewels.
“I’ve got it,” I said with relief when I finally found the link to the calendar. I was about to click it when a notification for an email popped up on her computer.
Calendar Changes and Birthday Present.
“Fuck,” I hissed. “I think Darleen is getting me a birthday present.”
Miles’ feet hit the ground, and he sat up in the chair. “Is it naked pictures? I’m dying to see if those things look as fake as they feel.”
Lifting an eyebrow, I stared at my cousin. “And when exactly did you feel up my personal assistant?”
“When she accidentally fell into my lap the other day,” Miles said with a frown. “I almost let her fall to avoid touching her, but I guess I’m not as big of an asshole as I’d like to be.”
“Good. Maybe she’ll start planning on marrying you instead of me,” I said absently as I opened the email. It was addressed to Darleen from some woman named Julie, and it just confirmed that my present had been retrieved, and she’d made the changes to the calendar. Suddenly sick my ass. Darleen had clearly been making arrangements to have the next few days off.
When I closed the email, I realized that there was a long thread of messages between them.
Six-months long.
Scrolling through, I felt a wave of fury. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That stupid, lazy bitch.”
“Whoa. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Darleen has been paying someone to do her fucking work for six months. For six months, someone named Julie has been given private information about my life.” My eyes widened. “My God, Darleen gave her the notes from the investors meeting to type up.”
“You thinking its someone working on the other side or someone from the press?” Miles asked tightly. A plane accident from five years ago left Miles and me as the only two remaining Porters left, and he had as much interest in our money as I did.
“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.” Tension built in my shoulders as I composed an email from Darleen to Julie requesting that she meet me at the house so we could discuss some private details about what I wanted her to do next.
When she emailed me back and said that she wasn’t comfortable meeting me at the house, I knew that I had her. “She must be someone that we know. I’m going to kill Darleen. I’m going to sue her for breach of contract, and then I’m going to make sure that no one who makes over twenty-thousand a year will want to fuck her.”
I shot off another email insisting that I had private financial papers that needed drafting, and I couldn’t have her do it in public. She emailed me back almost immediately agreeing.
The trap was set, and I was eager to see who I was about to catch.
“I guess I’m going to need another assistant,” I growled as I slammed the laptop closed. The fake rhinestones glued to the top sparkled in the sunlight, and I had an urge to throw it out the window.
“Maybe make sure this one isn’t going to pay someone else to do the job for them,” Miles laughed.
“You think this is funny?” I demanded. “We’ve got millions tied up in this online banking company. If this Julie person really is a corporate spy, we could lose all that money.”
“That would suck,” Miles agreed. “But it’s just a few million. I think we’ll still get by. Have you made a decision about tonight?”
“You mean am I going to go out with you so you can have a shot with the triplets?” I asked as I stood and stretched. I was about to turn him down; the truth was that it had been too long since I’d had someone in my bed, their lips locked around my cock. This whole situation with Darleen had me desperate to blow off some steam.
Still, there was work that needed to be done. Regretfully, I shook my head. I needed to make sure my head was clear when I met this Julie person tomorrow, and I didn’t need another woman in my bed aiming for holy matrimony.
Keep reading the rest of Keeping Secrets from the Billionaire for free by joining Lexi Aurora’s readers group, Lexi’s Sexies online.
Dear Readers,
As a gift to you, I have included three bonus short stories and one bonus novella with this book. I love helping other authors by sharing their work – particularly those that are new and up-and-coming. This gives them a good start and gives you, the reader the chance to discover the hottest new author before others.
As always, I welcome letters from readers, so if you have feedback on the main novella or any of the bonus short stories, I’d love to hear from you---what did you love? What did you not love? What do you want to read more of?
Let me know at [email protected] Enjoy your day and remember: sexy is a state of mind.
Love,
Lexi
Bonus Stories
The Lusty Lord – Historical Regency Romance Novella (with a paranormal twist)
The Winds of Good Fortune– Contemporary Romance Short
The Fast Billionaire – Contemporary Romance Short
Mistaken– Contemporary Romance Short
Bonus: The Lusty Lord
A Historical Regency Romance
Chapter 1: Julian
“I think he was mur
dered,” my brother said to me as we stood next to our father’s casket, looking down at the body inside. My father had a grim expression on his face, one that made him look stern even in death. It was a look that I had seen often in my youth, back when I was particularly fond of doing things that would earn his scorn.
I snapped a look over at Jason, my eyes going wide. The funeral was to start in two hours and the two of us were looking over everything before the guests arrived. It promised to be a massive event—Lord Jacob Castellano was well-beloved among his subjects. As earl, he had done a great many things to improve the quality of life in town and in the surrounding areas after his father had all but destroyed their economy. In just an hour, this room would be full of nobility and the very wealthy, people who knew Father better than I had gotten to know him in my thirty years of being alive.
“What are you talking about?” I asked my brother.
“I think he was poisoned,” said Jason, looking at me with anxious eyes. He looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept since Father had passed away in his sleep five days ago. I knew that he had a lot to do; he had inherited Father’s title and was a high-ranking member of society now, someone who had a whole world on his shoulders. My brother had also been much closer to him than I had been; Jason was the heir, and Father had been training him to take over since the moment he could start to learn. My father had mostly ignored me when he wasn’t chiding me for something, and his death caused me more numbness and concern for Jason than grief.
“He died in his sleep, Jason,” I said in a low voice. Father’s death had been unexpected, but I hadn’t suspected anything foul about it. “Peters said—“
“I don’t care what Peters said,” Jason hissed back. He didn’t like the doctor who’d taken care of Father’s body. Nobody did. “He’s a drunk.”
“Why would you think that he was murdered?” I asked my brother.
“I…“ Jason began, but was cut off when somebody entered the room. I looked at him for a long moment before turning my attention to the person who had entered, father’s personal valet, a man named Roger who had been with Father since before Jason or I had been born.
“Hello, Roger,” I said to him. I saw that he looked tired, too, and there was emotion written all over his face. If anybody was the most upset about the death of my father, it was Roger, who had been working for him for the past fifty years.
“Morning, my lord,” said the old man. “I just wanted a moment with your father before everybody arrives, if you don’t mind.”
I nodded at him, giving him the courtesy of looking away from the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. I looked over at Jason and he nodded, too. Both of us left the room so that Roger could be alone with the body before the funeral started.
I put my hand on my brother’s arm and pulled him into the back hallway of the cathedral where the funeral was taking place.
“Tell me what you’re talking about, Jason,” I told him, looking him in the eye. His gaze was unlike him, almost cold. My brother was typically the opposite of me in every way; where he was golden-haired and blue-eyed, broad of the shoulder, I was tall and slim with dark eyes and brown locks. He was also the one who was typically the warmest. I could tell just by looking at his face that he was completely serious about what he was saying.
“Markwell,” he said. “I think Markwell had something to do with it.”
“You think Markwell poisoned Father?” I asked, incredulous. The Baron of Highchester, Lord Markwell, was one of Father’s closest friends and confidants, as far as I knew. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know,” said Jason, running his hand through his already messy hair. He shook his head. “I’ve got to find out.”
“Markwell will be here this evening,” I said to him. “Are you going to say something to him?”
“Of course not,” Jason said, sighing. “But I’m going to keep an eye on him.”
I nodded. I didn’t believe my brother at all. I thought that he was being paranoid, that not sleeping was getting to him. I looked at him with concern, noting how pale he appeared, how drained. He was on edge, too, his whole body tensed up, jaw clenched tight. His eyes were wide and almost feverish.
“Are you going to be okay, Jason?” I asked him, putting my hand out to squeeze his shoulder. My brother and I had always been close, despite the fact that he’d often been too busy with Father to play with me as a child. He was only two years older than I and we’d gone through our classical education together.
“I have to be okay,” he said, rubbing his hand over his mouth. He sighed. “Do you believe me?”
I looked at him for a long moment, unsure of what to say.
“I think that we need to talk about it more,” I told him. “But now is not the time. Guests will be arriving shortly and we have to greet them.”
Jason nodded, looking defeated. He’d noticed that I hadn’t answered his question, and probably knew that it meant I didn’t believe him. There was no reason to suspect that Father had been poisoned. As far as I knew, he had no enemies. He was well-loved among his peers, though he had the tendency to be sharp with those in service to him.
“I am sorry, brother,” I told him. “I know that this is hard for you.”
“As it should be for you,” he said, looking at my face with a sternness not unlike Father’s. Jason didn’t understand the relationship I’d had with our father, what the dynamic had been like.
I only stared back at him, unable to respond to his statement. Instead, I turned around and went back into the area where father’s body lay. I saw that Roger was sitting in the front pew, his hands clasped as if in prayer. His eyes were closed and I did not disturb him, instead sweeping past him down the aisle and outside. It was a dark, dismal day, one that made it seem as if the sun was a long-forgotten memory, something warm and fuzzy that used to be but no longer was. The clouds were dark and heavy, the day as dreary as the mood. Still, I stood outside, enjoying the cool air compared to the stuffiness of the cathedral. I was disturbed by my brother’s allegations and couldn’t help but let my mind wander to Markwell. I didn’t know much about the man, only that he was close to Father and that he had always made me slightly uncomfortable. He had eyes that were paler than Jason’s—almost a blue as pale as ice. It was hard to look at them directly, and I knew that was something that Markwell used to his advantage.
I waited outside under an umbrella as the attendees began to pull up in their carriages. Some of them had brought boys with them to tend to the horses during the ceremony but others hadn’t. I gestured for two of the servants to assist those who hadn’t brought attendants and greeted the people as they arrived. Though I hadn’t been a big part of the business dealings, I had always been required to attend the lavish parties and gatherings with other members of nobility. I learned their faces over my childhood and remembered most of them by name. Many of them greeted me solemnly, a few with small smiles or condolences. I watched as they made their way into the cathedral a few at a time.
When Markwell showed up, I noted that he cast me a flickering smile when he saw me. His eyes, again, were cold and pale, disconcerting even on the brightest of days. I couldn’t stop thinking about what my brother had told me as I eyed the baron, whose arm was wrapped around his wife’s waist, guiding her into the building. Though many of Father’s closest friends looked reasonably upset, Markwell looked mostly unaffected. I knew, though, that the only reason I made any note of it was that my brother had brought Markwell to my attention. There was nothing unusual about the way he was acting. It made me even more worried for my brother, and I wondered how he would react to Markwell, and whether or not this was going to be an even bigger problem than I realized.
Chapter 2: Fiona
I spread the cards out on the table, watching as my friend Constance chose five of them from the deck. I arranged them in a cross position, the one that Constance liked best when I was reading the tarot for her. It was an easy job, one that I
didn’t have to work too hard to do. Constance started every session with the latest gossip, and from that I was able to weave a tale of her fortune in a way that was specific enough to keep her coming back.
I looked up at Constance. She was leaned over the table, studying the cards as if she was going to read them herself. She liked to get a good look at everything before I started reading.
“What’s this one mean?” she asked, frowning, pointing at the Death card in the center of the cross.
“It means that you’ve got to make a change,” I told her. “It’s a card of transition.”
“So I’m not going to die?” she asked. I shook my head, smiling at her.
“Not as far as the cards say,” I told her.
She relaxed a little bit, her body less tense. She settled in across from me to listen to the reading. Reading cards was something that I loved to do, one of the first things I’d learned from my grandmother, who had raised me in this house before she died. I had taken over her business as a spiritualist and was doing well for myself—I expanded my practices beyond my home and had become distinguished among the local nobility, sought out for my talents.
“How are things going with your husband?” I asked her, pointing to the lower card, which featured a grim picture of a woman in bed with several swords hanging over her, resting almost as if she were dead.