Billionaire's Matchmaker

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Rafe?” Travers prompted.

  “Yeah. Coming.” He grabbed a cup of coffee, then went out on the deck. The sun was much higher than he’d expected, and it burned his blurry eyes. He’d spent hours last night poring through video captured by a camera outside the restaurant at the dock. He’d seen Lillibet leave about thirty minutes after Theodore. A big floppy hat had been pulled low over her forehead, shielding her face. What it hadn’t hidden, oversize sunglasses had. She’d been carrying a designer tote that was big enough to hold all that cash and jewelry.

  “About ten minutes ago, we intercepted a friend of Lillibet’s using a set of keys to get into her apartment.”

  “Go on.”

  “Elizabeth’s real name is Brianna Gibbons. They talked almost every day. But Brianna hasn’t called her friend since Friday.”

  What fucking phone did they use?

  “We’ve got a number and we’re on it,” Travers said, as if reading Rafe’s mind. “Our guy went in with her. There’s no sign of Brianna. We’re debriefing the friend now.”

  He wasn’t sure what his next step should be. And he wanted to bounce ideas and tactics off someone. Hope. He wanted Hope.

  On a ridiculous impulse, he grabbed his phone and pushed redial next to her number. When her cheery voice filled the void, he slammed the device onto the railing.

  “Problem?” Travers asked.

  “Wondering how long I should stay here.” His dad was a mess, drinking too much, sitting up all night on the deck so he could watch for Lillibet walking down the wooden planks toward him.

  “Not much you can do,” Travers said.

  As best he could, Rafe was running Sterling Worldwide from here. But given his dad’s absence, Rafe was needed in Houston. Jeanine had informed him that Noah was making himself indispensable to the employees.

  Rafe went back into the galley, refilled his coffee, poured a second cup, then went up top with the offering. “I’m going home.” Rafe extended the drink to his father. “You should come with me. Take your mind off this.”

  “I’m waiting for her.”

  “If she shows up, Celeste’s team will notify you.”

  “You want me to trust them?”

  They’d had this conversation a dozen times. “The police, then.” Two days ago, they’d contacted the local authorities. Since there didn’t seem to be foul play, they’d taken an obligatory report but not much action.

  “I’m staying,” Theodore insisted.

  With great reluctance, Rafe nodded.

  For the first time, he understood his dad’s obsession with the woman he still thought of as Lillibet.

  If something happened to Hope, Rafe wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive. At first, he’d pursued her because he needed a wife, and she was a good fit. He wasn’t sure when it had become something deeper, essential.

  More than anything, he wished he were returning to her. Would there be anything sweeter than pulling her into his arms, onto his lap, reconnecting and exploring deeper?

  Christ.

  His soul ached from the pain of missing her.

  He was wrecked, with no damn idea how to make it right. But he vowed to never stop trying.

  Belowdecks, he contacted Jeanine to make arrangements for his plane and asked her to have a vehicle waiting when he arrived in Houston.

  Rafe packed up the few things he’d brought with him, then spoke with his father and Travers. Within an hour, Rafe was on the way to the regional airport.

  “Florida’s a popular destination for your family this week, Mr. Sterling,” the flight attendant noted when he was seated with coffee.

  He scowled. “How so?”

  “I’m sorry. I assume you knew. Mrs. Sterling was here a few days ago.”

  “My mother?” His blood chilled.

  “No. I’m sorry, the other Mrs. Sterling. I’m afraid I don’t know her first name. She always has us address her as Mrs. Sterling.”

  “Jessica?” She’d need Noah’s signature on the paperwork to authorize the flight.

  “She and her friend said they had a nice time.”

  “Friend?”

  “A blonde woman. She slept most of the way. Too much sun, Mrs. Sterling said. I’m sure her name is on the manifest.” She moved off to finish her preflight checklist.

  “Laurie?”

  “Sir?” She looked over her shoulder from the galley area.

  “What day was that?”

  “Saturday, Mr. Sterling.”

  “Do you know when Mrs. Sterling arrived?”

  “No, sir. I wasn’t on that flight.”

  A dozen thoughts slammed together, and he called Celeste with an update.

  After he’d outlined the situation she said, “I’ll procure the manifest. Anything else?”

  His stomach was caught in an iron vise. “Noah and his wife are members of the club. See if that information gets someone’s mouth to loosen up. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He checked his watch. “And put surveillance on Noah and Jessica.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Have you finished the interview with Lillibet’s friend?”

  “Brianna, aka Elizabeth and Lillibet, was an out-of-work actress, making ends meet by taking shifts at the local coffee shop. She said she’d been hired for a gig, and all the friend knew was that Lillibet was supposed to make a—and this is a direct quote—shitpile of money for less than a month’s work. Before you ask,” Celeste went on, “I’ve sent someone to the coffee shop to ask about Lillibet and to see if anyone saw her talking with Jessica or Noah.”

  He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

  Within an hour, he had the manifest. Jessica Sterling and a Ms. Mumford—whomever the hell that was, another alias, perhaps?—had been the passengers. The bill had been authorized by Noah.

  Celeste had included a note that she was taking no action until she heard from Rafe.

  The trip was interminable. He tried to sleep, but each time he dozed, adrenaline jolted him awake. None of this made sense.

  Or it did. In a sick, bizarre way that his brain refused to piece together.

  As the plane approached the runway, Rafe glanced at his phone. Nothing from Hope. Fuck…

  Once he’d uncurled his fist, he contacted Celeste for an update. Since he’d left Tampa, his cousin’s wife had played tennis with her ladies’ league before stopping for an after-workout coffee. From there, she’d gone home. If she was involved in something nefarious, she didn’t appear bothered by it. Noah hadn’t left the office, even for lunch. “I need one more thing.”

  “You’re in charge of the clock,” she said.

  “It’s Hope.”

  Celeste was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry?”

  “I screwed things up. She’s blocked my calls.”

  “People, relationships, are special, Rafe. They should be treated that way.”

  “Fuck.” He exhaled. “Is this your way of telling me you won’t help me?”

  “Why, yes, it is.” Her voice contained a cheerful note that had been missing for days. “Ultimate happiness requires risk.” She hung up.

  For a long time, he stared at the phone.

  After Emma, he’d decided that he didn’t want drama. And the fact that his father was suffering ought to reinforce Rafe’s decision. It didn’t. Instead, it showed him what he’d been missing.

  He loved Hope.

  Love didn’t distract from life. It gave it meaning. Joy and pain. And he knew he no longer wanted to be on the sidelines.

  He looked up a number for Hope’s office and reached Skyler.

  “For you, she’s not in. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not any other time.”

  “Even if I sent you a bottle of Dom Perignon?”

  “What year?”

  “Your choice. A vintage year, to be sure.”

  “Ah. Damn you. But no.”

  “Can you pass her a message?”

  “No.”

  He winced. Sk
yler was no longer the president of his fan club. “I fucked up.”

  “You most certainly did.”

  “Big.”

  “Yep.”

  Why did the women he spoke to take so much pleasure in his misery? “Will you tell her I’d like to apologize?”

  “Nope.”

  His little balloon of optimism popped. “I’m willing to throw myself on her mercy.”

  She laughed. “I want to watch that. She’s been busy sharpening her claws.”

  “Fuck. C’mon, Skyler. What the hell can I do?”

  “Leave her alone.”

  “Will you tell her”—Rafe pondered wondered how much to say—“I care about her?” He couldn’t tell Skyler that he loved Hope. Hope deserved to hear that from him.

  “Care? Hell, Mr. Sterling, I love doughnuts. And you care? Like what does that even mean?”

  “I have more to say when I speak with Hope.” Silence stretched and grew.

  “Mr. Sterling? With all respect, you really fucked up. Hope’s an amazing person. You should have treated her better.”

  “Yeah. I know.” The admission was the best he could do.

  Without another word, she ended the call.

  After the plane had landed, he climbed into the waiting sedan from the car service.

  “The office, Mr. Sterling?”

  He considered. “Yes.” He wanted answers. Celeste sent a message, letting him know Jessica had indeed been seen talking with Lillibet—Brianna—a few months ago, before she had left the coffee house for a better job at the club.

  At the corporate headquarters, he took the elevator to Noah’s office. He banged open the outer door, told the startled receptionist to remain seated or, better yet, call security, then threw open Noah’s door. “Put down the phone.”

  Noah, standing, ended his call. “The fuck do you want?”

  “Where is she?” Rafe strode across the room to slam his hands on the desk.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Lillibet. Where is she?” When he got no response, Rafe circled the desk to grab Noah.

  “Lisa!” Noah shouted for his receptionist.

  “I’ve already called security, Mr. Sterling,” she said from behind Rafe.

  The grief and loss on his dad’s face etched in his mind, Rafe banged Noah’s head against the wall. “Where the fuck is Lillibet?”

  “You’ve lost it,” Noah screamed. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  Security arrived and stood there, waiting for instructions.

  “You can talk now,” Rafe said to Noah. “Or you can do it when the police get here.”

  “Jesus, Rafe. You’re a crazy fucking bastard. How the hell would I know where she is?”

  “Okay, okay,” one of the guards said. “Take it easy.”

  “I’ll ask one more time—”

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

  “You chartered a goddamn plane for your wife, who went to Tampa and is the last person to have seen Lillibet.”

  Noah went limp as he shook his head. “No. No, no. She went shopping in New York while we were at the Parthenon.”

  “She was in Florida.”

  “It’s not possible.”

  There was no way to fake the kind of shock that Noah exhibited.

  “I want answers.”

  Noah slumped.

  “You can go,” Rafe said to the security guards and to Lisa.

  “Mr. Sterling?” she asked Noah.

  “It’s okay.”

  It took the trio some time and numerous sideways glances before they left the room.

  “There has to be some mistake.” Noah shook as he lowered his head into his hands. “She wouldn’t.”

  “She did.” Rafe contacted Celeste to let her know he and Noah were en route to the Richardson home.

  “Team is standing by. Let me know if you’d like the authorities notified.”

  Since he wanted answers of his own, he told her to hold off. “Let’s go,” he said to Noah. “I have a car waiting.”

  The ride took twenty minutes. Noah mumbled and fumbled with his phone. Rafe snatched it away, giving his cousin no chance to alert his wife.

  As they walked up the path, Travers and another man appeared out of nowhere.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” Rafe warned Noah.

  “It’s a mistake.” But his voice lacked credibility.

  They found Jessica on the patio, a martini in front of her. “Noah!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing home from work?” Then she turned toward Rafe. “Is everything okay?”

  “Jessie, darling, I’m sure there’s an—”

  “Shut it,” Rafe snapped. “Where is she?”

  “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “Lillibet.”

  “I’m sorry… Who?”

  “Cut it,” Rafe said. He crossed the tiles and grabbed her shoulders.

  “Hands off my wife!”

  Travers restrained Noah.

  “We’ve got you meeting with her at the coffee shop. It’ll be a matter of time before you’re tied to getting her the job at the club. Her friend can identify you. And you were in Florida this weekend. Your name is on the manifest, and Noah authorized the expenditure. I will ask one last time.” He squeezed her hard enough to leave bruises.

  “Noah! He’s hurting me!”

  Noah struggled to get away.

  “Call the police.” Rafe nodded to the agent. “I will ask one last time. Where is Lillibet?”

  “Ungrateful little bitch was going to ruin it all!”

  “What?” Noah went still.

  “Noah, please! This should be ours! Ours.” Hysteria mounted in her voice. “I did it for us! For you… She was going to ruin it all! Don’t you understand?”

  Rafe forced himself to release her before he caused real damage.

  She dropped to her knees and crawled toward her husband.

  Rafe crouched in front of her, preventing her forward progress. “Where is she?”

  Jessica’s eyes widened. “She can’t hurt us.” Her high-pitched voice was gone, replaced by a haunting singsong voice. “She was going to tell. Can’t tell now. Can’t tell now. She loved him. Ha! I promise. It’s all okay. Shh. Shh. No one knows.” She went around Rafe, focused on Noah.

  “Damn it to hell, Jessica, where is the woman?” Noah asked, voice sandpapery with disbelief and disgust.

  “At peace.”

  “Fuck. The lake house,” Noah said to Rafe. “That’s where she always goes for peace. God. It has to be the lake house.”

  Rafe knew the couple kept a second home, but he’d never been invited. “Address?”

  One of Celeste’s team nodded and moved into action while the other remained in place. Rafe sent a message to Celeste with an update and letting her know they might need some assistance from the authorities. She replied right away that she would be in touch with the mayors in both jurisdictions and confirming a team and the police were on the way to the house on Lake Livingston.

  “Gate code?” Rafe asked. “And you’re giving the police permission to enter?”

  Noah nodded his assent and rattled off the gate code as well as the ones for the alarm and front door. “And boat house.” His voice cracked as he added another.

  “Is she alive?” Rafe asked. “Jessica!”

  She didn’t respond, and she grabbed Noah’s ankle and started to inch up his leg, but he shook her off. “The fuck?”

  Jessica collapsed in a heap, sobbing, picking at her skin.

  Noah sank into a chair, head bowed, shoulders slumped, a broken man. “That poor woman.”

  Rafe struggled against the rising tide of empathy. But it was there, unwelcome. Noah wasn’t responsible for his wife’s actions, no matter how terrible. Rafe didn’t envy his cousin the road ahead.

  The police arrived, and Jessica curled into a ball, crying that she’d done it all for her Noah.

  �
�My kids.” Pain ripped through Noah’s words. “What am I going to tell my kids?”

  While Noah and Rafe watched, the police tugged Jessica to her feet, then read her Miranda rights as they cuffed her.

  “Noah! Don’t!” she begged. “Please! Please! Don’t let them do this to us! I love you, Noah. This is for us. Nothing will stand in your way.”

  “Take her,” Rafe said to the officers.

  Eyes reflecting the soul of a shattered man, Noah watched his screaming wife go limp, causing her to be forcibly removed from the room.

  The front door opened, then closed. “I’m so fucking…” Noah’s words were strangled. “Sorry.”

  In the last minutes, Noah had aged a decade, causing cracks in Rafe’s anger. He had issues with Noah’s ambition, and his intent to destroy Sterling Worldwide, but how much had he been pushed by Jessica and her lethal, fucked-up quest for power? “You’ll need to contact a lawyer.” Rafe reached to clap Noah on the shoulder, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Lillibet was no doubt dead, and his father was going to be destroyed. That, Rafe wasn’t sure he could forgive. He dropped his hand. “And maybe a friend.”

  Drowning in loss and devastation, Rafe strode through Noah’s mausoleum-silent home, intent on having the driver take him to the Richardsons’ lake house. Rafe held out hope that somehow Lillibet was alive and that this whole thing was a nightmare he could still wake up from.

  He strode outdoors, then froze on the front porch, engulfed in the surreal scene. Cop cars were parked at haphazard angles, their lights whirling, bouncing off trees, freakish and macabre.

  Standing beyond the chaos was Hope, eyes wide, arms open, hiding nothing.

  Rafe’s heart crumpled. He’d figured out he loved her, but until this very moment, he hadn’t known how much he needed her.

  Her beautiful lips were pressed together in a white line, as if struggling to hold back emotion. Haunting him, her features were stark. He’d done that to her.

  Hope started toward him, then paused after a few, uncertain steps. In that moment, the sun caught her brunette hair, adding highlights of burnished red. She was part mirage and all angel. He wondered if he’d conjured her image to soothe the savageness raging inside him.

  “Hope,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Desperate for the lifeline she was, he devoured the distance between them.