Irish Billionaire's Lost Daughter

by Nicki Jackson

  Irish Billionaire's Lost Daughter

  A BWWM Secret Baby Romance

  Nicki Jackson

  All rights reserved. Copyright © 2020 by Nicki Jackson

  This story is a work of fiction and any portrayal of any person living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended.

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  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Calum

  I spotted my mother on the deck of the beautiful little beige cottage. She loved the bright blue front door. I didn’t really care for any of it anymore.

  We had changed little ever since we arrived three years ago. Bought the boat and seaside cottage—by offering the original owner a ridiculous sum of money. Mom and had I moved in silently, in the dead of the night. Any renovations or changes would’ve attracted attention. I couldn’t afford that. My mother’s safety and mine depended on being invisible. The neighbors believed I was the original owner’s long-lost nephew. It perfectly suited my need for anonymity.

  It suited my need for survival.

  I glanced at the letters on the side of the Trump-y yacht: Evadere. ‘Escape’ in Latin. A painfully apt name for what my move to Newport had been all about.

  I brought the little yacht to dock, and noticed the deep gold sheen on my arms. The week out on the ocean had done me good. I’d needed to escape, clear my mind. I needed these trips all the more often lately. When I first arrived in Newport, I had assumed hiding out here in what I considered the middle of nowhere, would get easier with time. But it was getting a hell of lot more difficult.

  My only connection to the real world was through my investments in stock exchange. The real estate projects underway under the company name Sullivan Investment—my grandmothers maiden name—were bringing in great returns. But even my highly introverted self was lumbered underneath the weight of this forced exile. I missed the way I used to conduct business. Even though I clearly remembered whining about it at the time. Now, my past didn’t allow me to mingle with people. My life depended on staying in hiding. So did my mother’s.

  This cottage housed the only person in this world I cared about. The one person who could be used as to hurt me. There had been one other woman—but I’d already lost her. And it was all my fault.

  My heart twisted painfully in my chest. I took my time anchoring the yacht. I had always been a cautious person, my attention to detail verging on obsessive. But having to constantly look over my shoulder for almost three years had taken a toll on me. I dreaded the days, weeks, months, years ahead, having to live my life locked away on the beautiful, picturesque seaside.

  There are worse things that could happen, you know?

  What could be worse than being responsible for the death of the woman you loved?

  Nothing.

  That weight bore down on me, grew heavier to carry every single day. If only I had stayed away from her. If only I had told her the truth about who I was and what I did.

  If only I had never met her… Nina would still be alive.

  I stepped on the small private dock and strode up to my mother. She wore a yellow floral print shirt and white lawn trousers. She still looked very much like the high-society socialite she’d been before I had brought her into hiding.

  I chuckled to myself and shook my head as Mom waved at me. Disconnecting myself from the quicksand of crime had been what saved her. Of course, the day Nina died, I’d known it was all over.

  Without ever knowing my truth, Nina had propelled me out of that world. It was her last favor to me. But how I wished I could stop dreaming about her, stop wishing for her. I wished I could stop sensing her presence and scent around me.

  I’d never loved a woman like I’d loved Nina. Then I’d killed her.

  As I neared the cottage, the brim of my mother’s straw hat tilted to reveal her forehead. Deep grooves were forming in the center. I knew how she hated frowning. The unavailability of Botox in a life of hiding was her worse peeve. She had to keep wrinkles at bay by halting all expressions on her face, to slow down the aging process. And those deep angry grooves in the center of her forehead could only mean one thing.

  Bad news.

  “What’s going on?” I stopped next to her.

  She swallowed audibly and stood up. She began to speak, then shut her mouth as if she didn’t have the words. Cautiously, she handed me a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine, opened to the center, one half rolled up in her palm.

  I took it, confused. “Why are you upset?”

  And then I knew. My heart skipped a beat.

  The deck seemed to sway beneath me. It wasn’t the kind I was used to—the kind that was a consequence of being at sea for seven days. It was the kind of swaying where I thought I would pass out. My hands turned numb, tightening around the magazine. A beaming, smiling face stared back at me from the pages—the same beautiful face that had haunted me for three years.

  Her hair was shorter. The loose, thick brown waves were gone, and in their place was a sophisticated, sleek, angled bob that framed her oval-shaped face. The deep natural brown of her hair turned slowly blonde as it reached the tips. The ombre striking against her dark caramel-gold skin tone.

  I couldn’t look away from the smiling face, the subtle crinkles at the corners of her eyes. I couldn’t believe it was her, even though that snub little nose was hard to forget. It was surreal, her name in bright bold red on top of the feature.

  Nina Johnson.

  Her lipstick was the same color of red. An ode to the bright red branding of her salon, the photos spread across the feature. The last time I’d seen those hazel brown eyes, we’d been trapped in the warehouse, gunfire erupting all around us. She had reached up for me, panicked and terrified.

  “Go out the back and I’ll meet you there.” I’d told her urgently.

  She never made it out. She had died in the explosion at the warehouse.

  “She’s alive.”

  My mother’s voice penetrated the ringing in my ears, her hand touched my shoulder.

  “Calum? Calum? Nina is alive!”

  I couldn’t look away from that face in the magazine. I feared it would disappear if I did. I inhaled deeply and realized I’d been holding my breath way too long. I was dizzy and lightheaded.

  I had so many questions.

  Why had Nina not looked for me? Even though it would’ve been terribly hard for her to locate me when I’d left no loose ends in trying to live incognito. I had been devoted to living in hiding as a fugitive.

  But I had seen that warehouse go up in a ball of fire. How could Nina be alive?

  It was almost too bizarre a thought for me to process.

  “Calum?”

  My mother grabbed my arm and shook me. It broke me out of my haze of shock.

  Finally, I scanned the article, and the location of her salon.

  Finally, I looked up at my mother

  “I’m going to New York.”

  Chapter 2

  Nina

  I dumped my bag on the floor as soon as I entered my apartment. Zoe started squealing long before I even looked at her.

  “Hey, my baby!”

  I fell to my knees and she
ran up to my arms, snuggling her little face into my neck. I kissed her cheek with a loud smack. “What did you do all day, my love?”

  Zoe grinned and ran away, and I smiled at my father.

  My dad, Jimar, was a retired high school teacher who had a new passion in life: Zoe.

  “How’s it going, Dad?”

  “Great.” He pressed the mute button on the TV remote and glanced at Zoe, who’d gone back to play with her colorful building blocks on the rug. “Zoe has been extremely busy, just so you know. And that’s the secret of my newfound youth.”

  I chuckled and bit my lip as my dad lowered himself on the rug to play with Zoe.

  While I was growing up, Dad had always been extremely hands-on. He’d had to be, because my own mother had passed away from a brain aneurism when I was five. It happened suddenly. It broke my father’s heart. But my father, even though heartbroken, hadn’t skipped a beat in stepping up to be both a mom and dad for me.

  And now, when I was an adult, he still gave me his all. He was always there for Zoe. Without my father, I wouldn’t have achieved anything during the last two years. He was the reason I was able to stay focused when I was at work. The love he had for Zoe was unlike the love even I’d received while I was growing up.

  That was a poignant realization—considering Zoe would never know her own father.

  The open magazine on the kitchen counter distracted me from my thoughts. I picked it up and smiled. It seemed like Dad hadn’t had enough of it yet. He had read and reread my interview a hundred times, and was reluctant to put the magazine away.

  I had trouble believing it was all real. A full page spread in the Cosmopolitan magazine for Nina Thompson. I felt like a rock star.

  In just a year since I set up my own beauty salon, I couldn’t believe how far I’d come. Even though I tried hard to stay focused on the magazine and my achievements printed there for millions to see, I couldn’t push Calum out of my mind. He had a freaky tendency to do that. Once I began to think about him, I felt raw and it hurt everywhere. The anguish radiated through me.

  I leaned against the marble counter, staring at the magazine, but my mind was miles away.

  Three years ago, I’d been naïve. I’d just turned twenty and celebrated it with my aunt in Montreal. I was studying to become a beauty therapist and living with my aunt Linda.

  I’d fallen for Calum hard and fast. It was a whirlwind. Five minutes after meeting him at a party, and I was crazy about everything he was. Something about him was different. It set him apart from his peers. Actually, Calum Lynch had no peers. He was unlike anyone I’d ever known. He was in a class of his own. His presence made heads turn. He could walk into a room and impel the occupants to an automatic hush. He was also easygoing, fun, and within moments of meeting him, I’d felt like I had no worries in the world.

  Three years ago, he was thirty-one, sophisticated and charming. His sense of humor completely captivated my twenty-year-old naïve self. He was smart, and kind, and absolutely lip-smackingly gorgeous.

  I didn’t ask him any questions. Every word he said was my truth. I didn’t doubt anything he said. In hindsight, I realized I had been a child. Sheltered and protected by family. I took everything at face value. I hadn’t yet learned that people weren’t exactly as they seemed. I didn’t know that people wore a mask to hide their real selves.

  In my stupidity and naivete, in a foreign country, I actually believed he was my knight in shining armor. My prince. I believed all my problems had been solved.

  Then reality hit.

  I’d discovered he had secrets that threatened his safety and mine.

  I’d gotten out that night. But Calum hadn’t.

  What he’d left behind was a shattered girl who had just lost the first man she ever loved with madness. Three weeks later, that heartbroken girl had discovered she was pregnant.

  I squeezed my eyes shut to push all thoughts of Calum to the deep, unreachable recesses of my mind. But all I could see was his handsome, smiling face. The way his deep gold eyes crinkled at the corners, and how preposterously, deceivingly safe I had felt in his arms.

  I slapped the magazine shut and strode back into the living room. The two-bedroom apartment in upper west side was spacious and decorated in shades of white and gray. It was my safe place, the first place that had truly felt like home after Zoe was born.

  I owed so much to my father, for being the father Zoe didn’t have.

  And I also owed my new life to Calum’s uncle, Ronan. I met Ronan at the funeral service he had held for Calum. Soon after, Ronan reached out to me. He had discovered I was pregnant, and wanted me to be safe and taken care of. He paid off all my debt, and set me up in a studio apartment in Queens. I was eternally grateful for that head start at a very challenging time in my life.

  “It’s what Calum would’ve wanted,” Roman had said somberly that day.

  I walked into my bedroom and stripped while I made my way to the bath. I wondered whether I should postpone my planned vacation. It was meant to be my chance to spend more time with Zoe, and free my mind from work responsibilities, but now I worried that I’d have way too much time and free headspace to think about Calum.

  What made it worse was the fact that Zoe was a miniature version of her father. As she learned to speak, her expressions and her features reminded me way too much of Calum. I needed this break. But I didn’t want to spend all my time wondering what lies Calum had told me, the lies that had taken his life, and almost killed me.

  Snap out of it.

  I stared accusingly at my reflection in the mirror.

  You’ll get to spend quality time with Zoe. You’ll forget about the past. It was a tragedy that you didn’t deserve to live through.

  But now, that’s over.

  “Some things are just better left in the past,” I reminded my reflection.

  I spent the rest of the day playing with Zoe, and after she went to bed, I watched a movie to distract myself. The next day, I went to work at noon to wrap up a few appointments with my regulars and returned home early. The sitter, Sarah, arrived around five, and I hurried to the front door to leave.

  “Come on, Dad, you’ll miss your flight. You know Aunt Linda, she’s probably already at the airport in Montreal waiting for you to land.”

  My dad and I laughed at Aunt Linda’s habitual earliness, and I turned to see my reflection in the mirror. I wore a sleeveless shirt of shimmering silver silk, with loose black pants that were snug around my hips. I checked my makeup and caught my dad staring at me.

  “You dressed up like this just to drive me to the airport?”

  I grinned. “I’m going out with some friends afterward.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Some friends or a special friend?”

  It took a moment to realize my dad was trying to make me confess to a date. I hated saying No every time he asked. It was no secret that he wanted me to date, and move on with my life.

  “With friends.” I admitted with a wry smile, taking his arm. “Stop being so cheesy.”

  An hour later, I stepped out of the car and hugged my dad goodbye. A painful knot of emotion throbbed in my throat, but I gave him a sideways smile. I hated getting so emotional. I was totally against the idea of sobbing in front of other people, and so I was left with this ache in my neck that lasted for days afterward.

  Sighing, stroking my painful neck discreetly, I got into my car and pressed the ignition. A scraping sound from the backseat made me spin around.

  I gasped, choking on a scream, as I spotted a man seated comfortably in the back. Relaxed, wearing a casual gray button-down shirt and faded jeans. He smiled at me as if we were old friends.

  We weren’t.

  “From this point on, you do exactly as I say.” His voice was throaty as he spoke.

  The ominous threat was undeniable. I nodded shakily, my heart pounding a thousand beats a second. My hands shook on the steering wheel as he snapped out directions.

  I was driving blind
. I had no idea where I was or where I was headed. The whole time, I was doing the math on the amount of time it would take for me to open the car door and jump out of a moving vehicle.

  “We’re here.” He announced.

  Oh shit. Oh shit.

  “Turn here.”

  I stopped. It was a dead-end street. “Here where?”

  “Turn off the headlights and turn into the alleyway.”

  My heart slammed against my ribs. I held his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Please. Please don’t do this. I have a child. I have a family. Please don’t kill me.” I gasped shakily.

  His brows snapped together but the rest of the face remained impassive. “Turn in the alley.”

  I didn’t move. I was gasping for breath.

  “Please,” he said with sarcastic sweetness that belied the physical threat he visibly was.

  There’s no way out. I’m dead here, or in the alleyway.

  A dense fog stuffed itself into my brain. I felt like I was floating as I drove into the alleyway.

  “Get out of the car now.”

  I did as bidden, and the man came up behind me.

  “Go inside the building through the red door.”

  I stared at the large metal door with peeling red paint. “Here?”

  “Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the side of my blue SUV.

  I pushed the metal door open, its loud creaking sound making me flinch. The interior was brightly lit, decorated in gleaming brown leather and impressive mahogany furniture.

  It didn’t make sense. This had to be a dream. A nightmare.

  I jumped as a man stood up, buttoning up his suit jacket. I hadn’t noticed his presence.

  That handsome man, in an expensive tailored suit, did not quite fit into this horrible nightmare kidnapping. Why did he need to dress up in a suit to kill me?