Black Tie Billionaire

by Naima Simone

  Madison turned that wide smile to Shay, and even though all the warmth that had filled her faded away, Shay returned it with one of her own.

  Trevor’s fiancée had been nothing but cordial to Shay, but again, there was something not quite genuine about her. Madison reminded Shay of the ice sculpture in the lobby outside the ballroom. Beautiful but cold. To stand too close would send a shiver through the body.

  “Let’s get through tonight first before thinking about next year,” Shay said, not committing to anything. Trevor stiffened beside her, but she ignored the telltale sign of his irritation. Her mind jumped to that dark brown file Gideon Knight had slid across the table. She thought about how her brother donated significant funds to the senator’s campaign. And she couldn’t help but wonder if some of that money came from their mother’s organization.

  Stop it.

  The sharp order ricocheted off her skull. Damn Gideon Knight. She hated that he’d infiltrated her head, and she couldn’t evict him. Not his damn dossier or the man himself. It’d been four days since that meeting—no, ambush. Four days since she was supposed to give him her decision about his preposterous ultimatum.

  Four nights of heated fantasies that left her twisting and aching in her bed.

  What kind of sister did it make her that she woke up shaking and hungry for the man who blackmailed her? Who threatened her brother’s livelihood and freedom?

  A sad excuse for one.

  Smothering a sigh, she excused herself from their small group on the pretense of checking with the catering staff, and headed across the room. She’d taken only a dozen steps before tingles jangled up her bare arms and culminated at the nape of her neck.

  She sucked in a breath and immediately scanned the crowded ballroom for the source of the unsettling, exciting feeling.

  There. No...there.

  Gideon Knight.

  The unexpected sight of him glued her feet to the floor.

  Unexpected? Really?

  Okay, maybe not. As soon as that prickle had sizzled over her skin, a part of her had instinctively known who’d caused it. Only one man had ever had that kind of effect on her.

  She stared at him, trapped in an instant of déjà vu. Seeing him in his black tuxedo, she was swept back to the first night they’d met. Once more he seemed like the imposing but regal warlord surveying his subjects, his armor traded for perfectly tailored formal wear, his hair emphasizing the stark but gorgeous lines of his face. The distance of the ballroom separated them, but she somehow sensed those black eyes on her, just like then.

  Just like then, she fought the dual urges of fight or flight.

  And by fight she meant the warring of their mouths and bodies for dominance.

  Damn.

  She balled her fist, forcing her feet to maintain a steady, unhurried pace forward. Even as her heart pounded a relentless rhythm against her sternum.

  “How did you get in here?” she gritted out.

  Conscious of any gazes that might be leveled on them, she kept her polite, social mask in place, when in truth she wanted to glare daggers at him.

  His aloof expression didn’t change...except for the arch of that damnable dark eyebrow. “I expect like everyone else. The front entrance. And paying the seven-thousand-dollar-a-plate fee.”

  “That’s not possible,” she snapped. “I looked over and approved the final guest list myself. Neither you nor your company’s name was on it.”

  “Then you missed it. Maybe other matters distracted you,” he added. A beat of charged silence vibrated between them. No need to name the “other matters.” They both were well aware of what he referred to.

  “Is that why you’re here?” she demanded, and in spite of her resolve, her voice dropped to a heated whisper. “To pressure me for an answer?”

  “It’s been four days, Shay,” he replied, and in that moment, she resented his carefully modulated composure.

  The rash and admittedly foolish urge—no, need—to shatter his control swelled within her. She wanted the man from the blackout, the one who stared at her with flames of desire burning in his onyx eyes as he drove them both to impossible pleasure.

  “I’ve given your four days longer than I’d usually grant anyone else.”

  “Well, I’m flattered.”

  “You should be.”

  She clenched her teeth so hard an ache rose along her jaw. “The answer is n—”

  “Is this man bothering you, Shay?” Trevor appeared at her elbow, and both the venom in his question and his sudden, hard grasp elicited a gasp from her.

  Gideon’s gaze dropped to her arm, and anger narrowed his eyes.

  “Get your hand off of her,” he ordered. The volume of his voice didn’t rise, but only a simpleton could miss the warning. “You’re hurting her.”

  Scowling, Trevor glanced down at his fingers pinching her arm, then jerked his hand away. He lifted his regard to her face, and she glimpsed disgust, but also regret. She dipped her chin in a silent acknowledgment of his equally silent apology.

  Turning back to Gideon, he snarled, “What are you doing here? You weren’t invited. Leave. Now.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen,” Gideon said, with no hint of remorse. If anything, satisfaction rang loud and clear in those words. “I paid to attend just like everyone else here, and made a hefty donation on top of that. I’m staying.”

  “You can have your money back. We don’t need it,” Trevor spat, nearly trembling with rage as he edged closer to Gideon. “We both know why you’re here. You lost. Get over it. It’s not like it’s the first time, and it damn sure won’t be the last.”

  Fear spiked inside Shay’s chest. Good God. She’d never seen her brother this angry. His reaction to Gideon’s presence had to be more than a business rivalry. This was...personal.

  “Trevor,” she quietly pleaded, gently but firmly grasping his arm. “Please.”

  Gideon shifted his attention from her brother to her. And the same fury that twisted her brother’s face lit his eyes like a glittering night sky. But as he studied her, some of the anger dimmed.

  He retreated a step, his gaze still pinned on her.

  Shock pummeled the breath from her lungs. Had he backed away...for her?

  No. That was impossible. He didn’t give a damn about her or her feelings.

  Still...

  “Have a nice evening. Both of you,” he said, though his regard never wavered from her. “It was wonderful seeing you again, Shay,” he murmured, then turned and headed farther into the room, not toward the exit as Trevor had demanded.

  “What was he talking about, ‘seeing you again’?” Trevor hissed as soon as Gideon was out of earshot. “When did you meet him?”

  With Herculean effort, she tore her gaze from Gideon and met her brother’s glare. Hurt and hints of betrayal lurked there. And guilt pricked her. For what, though? She’d done nothing wrong.

  “A few nights ago when I had dinner with friends. He was at the same restaurant.” She delivered the half-truth with aplomb. God, when did I become such an accomplished liar? “He just introduced himself, that was all. What in the world was that all about, Trevor?”

  “Nothing,” he snapped. Then, sighing, he dragged a hand over his closely cropped hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you. Just...stay away from him, Shay. I don’t want you to have anything to do with him. Do you understand?”

  “I’m not a child, Trevor,” she murmured, meeting his fierce stare. “And this isn’t the proper place for this discussion, either. We have guests.”

  With that reminder, she turned and strode away from him and the disturbing scene that had just unfolded.

  Oh yes, there was bad blood between him and Gideon. Now more than ever, she felt like a pawn in whatever twisted game the two of them were engaged in. And she hated it.
<
br />   As the evening progressed, she couldn’t uproot the bitterness. Maintaining her not-a-care-in-the-world socialite persona became a weightier burden, and by the time dinner was being cleared away, she was bone-deep exhausted. Peeking at the slim, gold watch on her wrist, she thanked God she had only about an hour more to do her hostess duty before she could escape.

  “I noticed you talking to Gideon Knight earlier,” Madison said, her tone low enough that Trevor, who was engrossed in conversation with Senator Reus, didn’t overhear.

  Surprised that she knew of him, Shay nodded. “Yes.”

  “Do you know him well?” she asked, and unease niggled at Shay. The air of nonchalance in Madison’s seemingly innocent question seemed forced.

  “Not really,” Shay replied cautiously. “Though Trevor seems to.”

  “Oh, you don’t know, do you?” Madison studied her, a gleam in her dark brown eyes. “Trevor didn’t tell you?” she prodded before Shay could answer. “Gideon and I were...close before I met your brother.”

  “Close,” Shay repeated, though the twisting in her stomach interpreted the coy choice of phrasing.

  “Engaged, actually,” Madison confessed, and this time, there was no mistaking the cat-that-ate-the-whole-damn-flock-of-canaries smile that curved her mouth. “We were engaged for a year before we ended our relationship. He wasn’t happy about it.” She chuckled, apparently amused at her understatement.

  We both know why you’re here. You lost. Get over it. It’s not like it’s the first time, and it damn sure won’t be the last.

  Trevor’s accusation echoed in her head, and it now made sickening sense. As did Gideon’s reason about why he’d proposed his ridiculous plan, that night at the restaurant.

  Your brother, he’d said. All of this—hatred, blackmail, rivalry—was over a woman.

  Her belly lurched, and she fisted her fingers, willing the coq au vin she’d just eaten not to make a reappearance.

  “If I may have your attention, please?” Senator Reus stood, his booming politician’s voice carrying through the ballroom and silencing the after-dinner chatter.

  “Thank you. Now I know this evening is about Grace Sanctuary, and I speak on behalf of both the Reus and Neal families when I thank you for your generosity in both spirit and donations.” Applause rose, and Julian Reus basked in it, his smile benevolent. No, the evening wasn’t about him, but somehow, he’d managed to make it all about him.

  “I’d just like to take this moment to recognize this wonderful charity, as well as Trevor Neal, who has spearheaded it since the passing of his dear parents. I’m so proud that I will be able to call him son in the very near future, as he and my beautiful daughter, Madison, embark on a journey together as man and wife. Trevor...” he accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter who suddenly appeared at his elbow, and lifted it high “...congratulations to you and my daughter. You are the son I wasn’t blessed with, but am so fortunate to now have.”

  Around them, people hoisted their own wineglasses and echoed “To Trevor,” as her brother stood and clasped the senator’s hand, his huge grin so blinding, Shay had to glance away. The sight of him soaking up the senator’s validation like water on parched earth caused pain to shudder through her.

  Their father would’ve never praised him so publicly—or privately. Lincoln Neal had been a hard man, huge on demands and criticism, and stingy with compliments. She, more than anyone, understood how Trevor had craved his approval. And it’d been their father’s refusal to give it that had changed Trevor. Their father had been dead for five years, and Trevor still drove himself to be the best...to be better than their father. This high regard from such an important man had to be like Christmas to Trevor. A thousand of them packed into one short toast.

  Oh God. She dipped her head so no one could glimpse the sting of tears in her eyes.

  She was going to cave to Gideon’s ultimatum.

  Family. Loyalty.

  Those were the tenets that had been drilled into them from childhood. Definitely by their father, and even in one of the last conversations she’d had with her mother before she died. She’d stressed that Shay and Trevor always take care of one another.

  Family loyalty wouldn’t allow her to let Trevor lose everything. The family name. His company. His fiancée. His future father-in-law. There was no one left to protect him, except her. And until she could verify the truth of the information Gideon held—and she still doubted the veracity of it, especially given what she’d learned from Madison—she couldn’t permit her brother to be ruined. Not when the kind but wounded boy she remembered still existed inside him.

  He was her brother.

  And to keep that happiness shining on her brother’s face, she would make a deal with the devil.

  And Gideon Knight was close enough.

  It wasn’t difficult to locate him in the crowded room. The entire evening she’d been aware of his presence, and when she glanced over her shoulder to the table several feet away, their gazes immediately locked. As if he’d only been waiting for her to look his way.

  She gave him a small nod, and he returned it.

  Exhaling, she turned her attention to the glass of red wine she’d barely touched throughout dinner. Now it, and about four more, seemed like a fabulous idea.

  She would need all the courage she could get.

  Nine

  “When I agreed to meet you, I assumed we would go to another restaurant, not your home.”

  Gideon stepped down into the recessed living room of his downtown Chicago penthouse and slipped his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants. Shay hovered at the top of the two steps leading into the room.

  He surveyed his home, attempting to view it through her eyes. The dual-level, four-bedroom, three-bath condominium was the epitome of luxury with its airy, open-floor plan, floor-to-ceiling windows, game and media rooms, indoor and outdoor kitchens and private rooftop lounge that boasted its own fireplace. But it’d been the stunning views of the Chicago River and Chicago skyline from every room that had sold him. It was like being a part of the elements while protected from them.

  He’d left most of the simple, elegant decor to his interior designer, but scattered among the gray, white and black color scheme were pieces of him, if Shay cared to look close enough. Next to the god-awful piece of metallic abstract art on the fireplace mantel that he’d never gotten around to tossing stood a framed photo of him with his family, including his grandparents, at last year’s Mid-Autumn Festival in Chinatown.

  On top of the white baby grand piano where his sister sometimes plucked out “Mary Had a Little Lamb” sat the guitar pick he’d forgotten to put away the night before.

  Peeking from between the couch pillows was the ear of a pair of Bluetooth headphones that he used to listen to music with while working from home.

  Yes, if she paid attention, she might glimpse those hints into him. And part of him tensed with the need to go through the room and remove those clues from her sight. But the other half... That half wanted her to spy them, to ask questions. Which was bullshit, since their arrangement didn’t require that kind of intimacy.

  He shouldn’t hunger for that—especially not from her. Not just sister to his enemy, but another beautiful woman who didn’t want the real him. The last time he’d allowed a woman to enter into the space reserved for family, she’d betrayed that trust. Had left him so disillusioned, he’d vowed to never be that foolhardy, that reckless, again.

  Only family could be trusted. Only family deserved his loyalty...his love.

  Definitely not Trevor Neal’s sister.

  “This kind of conversation deserves more privacy than a crowded restaurant,” he said, finally addressing her complaint. “Would you like a drink? Wine? Champagne? Water?”

  “Champagne?” she scoffed, stepping down into the living room. “I guess this would be a victory
celebration for you. But no. I’ll take a Scotch. This situation calls for something strong that tastes worse than the deal I’m about to swallow.”

  Her acerbic retort had an inappropriate spurt of amusement curling in his chest. He squelched it, turning to fix her a finger of Scotch and a bourbon for him. Moments later, he handed the tumbler to her and silently watched as she sipped the potent liquor. Not even a flinch. His admiration grew.

  When she lifted those beautiful hazel eyes to him, that niggling sense of familiarity tugged at him again. He cocked his head to the side, studying her. What was it...?

  “Can we get this started, please?” she asked, setting the glass on the small table flanking the sofa. She rubbed her bare arms, and the sign of nerves pricked a conscience he’d believed to be impervious. “I’m sure you’ve already guessed that I’m going to agree to your ridiculous plan. Or let’s just call it what it is. Extortion.”

  “You have a choice, Shay,” he reminded her, sipping his bourbon.

  “Yes,” she agreed, bitterness coating the word. “Sacrifice myself or my brother to the beast. That’s a hell of a choice.”

  He shrugged. “But one, nonetheless.”

  “You’re not really this cold and unfeeling. I know you’re not,” she whispered, her green-and-amber gaze roaming his face as if trying to peer beneath the mask he chose to let her see.

  Unbidden, the night of the blackout wavered in his mind. No. Those dark, hungry hours had proved he wasn’t cold or unfeeling. For a rare instant, he’d lost the control he was much lauded for. But those circumstances had been extreme, and she wasn’t a hardworking, passionate and fiery server named Camille. That woman had disappeared without a trace, filling in for another member of the waitstaff, and not leaving behind a hint of her identity. She’d seen the man he rarely let anyone see.

  One Shay would never witness.

  “If you need to make up an idea of who I am in order to fulfill the pretense of falling in love with me, then go ahead. Whatever will allow you to deliver an award-winning performance for your brother and everyone else watching.”