Heath Read online

  “Are you seriously threatening me? Threatening my father’s company? You know his company was everything to him,” I hiss.

  “And you can save it by simply marrying me.” He grins. “I’ll give you until after the funeral to decide.”

  “There’s nothing to decide,” Hunter says as if I’m not in the room. “It’s already done.”

  “He’s not done reading the will.” I point to Mr. Hendrickson, who is still sitting at the desk, waiting patiently.

  “I’ve heard everything I needed to hear,” Hunter retorts with a laugh, then he looks at Heath. “Guess Daddy loved me more after all. And one day my son will follow in his grandfather’s and father’s footsteps and everything that is now mine will become his. But you know whose it will never be? Yours.”

  “What?” I ask confused. The last time I heard, the doctors declared Francesca infertile and they were told they wouldn’t be able to conceive children of their own.

  Ignoring my question, Hunter extends his hand to Elliot, who grasps his firmly. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Heath

  “PACK A BAG,” I GROWL, storming into Catrina’s room after her.

  She nods and rushes over to her closet. I help her drag her eight-piece Bottega Veneta calf leather luggage—the fact that I even know what the fuck that is might be a testament as to how obsessed with this woman I am—out and onto the bed. While she sets to packing, I press a kiss to her cheek before heading to my room. I don’t have much to speak of. A few nice suits that will fit into one suitcase. A box of love letters from Catrina. Some trinkets from when we were children. I also have a candid framed photo of Catrina, Crenshaw, and me not long after Hunter was sent to military school. Within minutes, my entire life is packed into a manageable suitcase.

  My home isn’t here.

  My home is wherever Catrina is.

  I slip from the old sewing room turned bedroom and carry my bag through the house. The voices from Crenshaw’s office have long since dispersed. When I step inside his office, it’s empty of people. The scent of tobacco and his familiar cologne flood my senses. My eyes prickle with emotion, but I grit my teeth and will it away.

  Catrina has lost her father. I must be strong for her.

  He was never mine.

  But she is.

  I walk over to his desk and stare at his open portfolio that’s filled with his business contracts and client list. Crenshaw was brilliant, especially with numbers, but he wasn’t good with drawing up contracts and handling the client meetings. He relied on me to assist him with all of that. We worked together as a team and ran this company like a well-oiled machine. Despite his outdated will, I know in my heart he’d want me to have this portfolio.

  So, I take it.

  Quickly, I shove the thick portfolio into the side of my bag and then zip it back up. I make it back to Catrina’s room where she’s shoving every bra, shoe, and dress she can get to fit into her bags. When she’s done, she goes to her nightstand and grabs her latest journal, setting it on top. The woman goes nowhere without her book and pen. She’s been writing in those journals for as far back as I can remember. There must be dozens stored away somewhere, or maybe she burns them when she’s done writing in the last page. What I wouldn’t give to read her innermost thoughts and feelings. To know what goes through her head. I tried once and she flipped the hell out on me. Didn’t speak to me for a damn week. When she finally did, she made me promise never to read them and I agreed. The love letters she’s written are mine, though. They may not reflect all of her innermost feelings, but they capture her love for me and it’s something I cherish deeply.

  I watch as she moves to the dresser and opens her jewelry box, taking the charm bracelet I bought for her out. She places it inside the luggage carefully as tears of frustration and sadness leak from her eyes. I’ll get her to talk later, but for now, there is no time for that.

  We’re leaving.

  As it should be.

  I help her zip up one of her overstuffed bags. As she heads to the bathroom to pack up her toiletries, I sit on the bed and call a local hotel to book a room. My funds in my account aren’t horrible, but they also won’t get us very far. While Crenshaw didn’t pay me wages for my time as most internships don’t, I’ve worked plenty of odd jobs over the years so I could have some money in my pocket.

  Thirty-eight hundred dollars.

  I close my eyes and rub my temples. Fuck how I wish we weren’t forced to make this decision just months before Crenshaw would have literally handed me over the keys to his fortune. It was always his plan to do so. Fuck the stupid will. It means nothing to me. I knew the old man and he was teaching me everything so I could take over when the time came.

  I was so close.

  My classes for this semester are over and I passed with flying colors. I only have one more semester to go. I hate that Elliot is right. Without Crenshaw’s help, how am I going to finish college? I’m devastated he won’t see me graduate.

  I’ll still make him proud.

  It may take me some time to find a job, but I will. I’ll use his knowledge he bestowed upon me to my advantage.

  “I’m ready,” Catrina says, her voice shaky.

  I rise from my chair and stalk over to her. My palms cradle her cheeks as I stare intently in her emerald green eyes. “Everything will turn out okay, love. You just have to trust me.”

  “I trust you,” she replies immediately. But the flare of her nostrils and the flicker in her gaze tells me otherwise. I’ll just have to work at it to prove to her I’ll provide for her. She just has to give me some time.

  It takes me three trips, but I manage to get us loaded in my car. Hunter can take a lot from me, but he won’t get my car. I paid for it in cash—sensible compared to Catrina’s BMW—but it’ll do the job. Whereas Catrina’s car is in her father’s name, my Honda is in mine.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she says once we’re on the darkened road.

  I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  The half-hour drive is quiet and soon we’re pulling into the hotel I booked.

  “What are we doing?” She wrenches her hand from mine and points at the hotel. “We’re not staying here.”

  Frowning, I take in the building. It’s not the nicest, sure, but it’ll do for a place to sleep until we get our bearings straight. “It’s cheap,” I grit out.

  Her head snaps my way and her lip curls up. “Look at it, Heath! It’s a roach motel.”

  I bite my tongue to keep from lashing out and climb out of the car. Before I can get to her side, she scrambles out.

  “Stop,” she snips. “We’re not staying here. They probably have bed bugs.”

  “It’s just for the night.” I stomp over to the trunk and start yanking suitcases out. “Turn down the princess dial a few degrees for just one night. Please, love.”

  She gasps as though my words have singed her. “Heath!”

  I slam the trunk and rush over to her. Grabbing her arms, I scowl at her face that glows prettily in the moonlight. Like an angel. An angel who’s frowning and fucking pouting, but an angel no less.

  “Just for tonight,” I grind out.

  Her emotions are running high because she bursts into tears. I pull her to my chest and soothe her by stroking her silky hair.

  “Everything will be okay, Catrina. Just trust me.”

  As Catrina sleeps on the “lumpy” bed that I caught six degrees of hell over, I sit in a desk chair by the window and scour through Crenshaw’s portfolio. There were notes on his to-do list in regards to a will he’d started, but it wasn’t in place yet. I found said will and sure enough, in black and white, he was handing everything over to me. His company. His trust. His fortune. He wasn’t lying when he said things would change in the fall. A few short months away. He thought he had plenty of time to make the changes.

  Time got the last laugh.

  When I had shown the unfinished will to Catrina, she’d screamed and
bounced on the bed with excitement. But the moment I explained that it had never been signed and executed, she cried herself hysterical until she passed the hell out. As much as I love her, I was glad when she succumbed to exhaustion. Without her throwing a tantrum, I can focus. I need to plan for our future.

  The portfolio does provide me with the information and access I need. I spend many hours late into the night making phone calls and putting some plans in place. Sometime around dawn, once the sun has risen, I yawn and wonder what Hunter will think of my taking his father’s client list.

  If Hunter thought I’d roll over and take this, he’s an idiot. I’m sure he’s scrambling right now to have me removed from all the bank accounts. It’s wasted effort, though. I took the portfolio. The information was what I was after. The money will come later.

  Tired, I rise from the chair and stretch. After I shed my clothes, I slide into the bed with my girl. She sighs and then clutches onto me in her sleep. I stroke through her hair with my fingers and stare at her perfect features. So beautiful. Nothing in this world could ever be so lovely.

  Unable to keep away from her any longer, I lean in and kiss her lips. I remember the first time I kissed her romantically. We’d been in her bed watching movies, something we did often. Sure, I’d always loved her, but I wasn’t sure if she felt the same. It was always Elliot this and Elliot that. She was blabbing about how when she married him one day, she’d make him build her an indoor pool and she’d insist on a private airplane. I thought she was so stunning—the way her eyes would light up when she’d talk about the things he’d buy her and how her pouty lips would purse together if she thought he might tell her no. I’d become so enamored that I couldn’t help myself. I just leaned forward and kissed her. It was our first kiss. We were young, dumb teenagers and the moment our lips fused together in a kiss that had more than friendly intent behind it, it sealed our fate. A soft moan of surprise escaped her. I used that moment to enter her mouth with my tongue. The next few moments were savage and clumsy. Our heated kiss quickly turned into a dual virginity loss. The first time kind of sucked, admittedly, but then we got better. Hell, it still gets better each and every time.

  “Catrina,” I murmur against her mouth. “Wake up, lovely.”

  Her eyes flutter open and for a moment before she remembers the horrors of yesterday, delightful wickedness glitters in her eyes. I nip on her bottom lip as I slide my palm down her stomach over her gown and then push it back up. I seek out her sweet cunt with my fingers. The moment they slide along her slit, she moans in pleasure.

  “Heath.”

  “Let me love you,” I whisper as I stroke her into a frenzy. She’s practically clawing at me by the time I bring her to climax. As soon as she comes down from her high, she cradles my face with one palm.

  “Love me like only you can.”

  I spread her legs and fuck my angel right into the lumpy mattress.

  Five days later…

  “A lot has happened since you two have been running around doing God only knows what,” Helen grumbles as she points some wait staff in the direction of the dining room. “Mr. Crenshaw would be so disappointed that Catrina would leave all the affairs to be handled by her brother. Thankfully Mr. Lincoln stepped up and saved the day. Did you see all the flowers at the service? Those were compliments of Elliot. And the casket was simply beautiful. Hand carved from Italy. I’m flabbergasted he was able to come by it so quickly. Money will buy you anything these days, I suppose.”

  I ignore her as I peek out the doors into the dining room. People are everywhere. The funeral was sad, as to be expected, and now we’re supposed to smile like we’re all the happiest goddamned people on the planet while honoring Crenshaw’s memory. Hundreds of guests have shown up for a glorified after-death party. Everyone dressed in their finest black-tie wear. I’m wearing one of my few suits that I didn’t have the opportunity to get pressed and an unhappy-as-fuck expression.

  But this is important to Catrina.

  She needs closure.

  As soon as we’re done with this shit, I’m going to take my girl and drive her far away from here. We’ll start our life and be happy like we were always destined to be. In a few years, once I’ve made a name for myself, I will spoil her rotten with indoor pools and private planes. Whatever the hell she wants, I will give it to her.

  I could never deny her a thing.

  She comes into view looking gorgeous as ever. I notice she’s put on one of her party dresses she was forced to leave behind when we left for the motel. It’s black and fits her beautifully, hugging her curvy frame in all the right places. Her tits are full and nearly spilling from the top. Every asshole in here eyefucks her tits when they pass. I bide my time. No sense in throttling every guy here. I’ll just wait it out and let her do her socialite duties one last time before she’s relieved of them for good.

  Laughter catches my attention and a growl rumbles in my throat to see Hunter having a jolly good time with Elliot. The two men, matched in size and stature, discuss whatever it is imbeciles talk about. A young woman with jet-black hair and wide blue eyes holds a baby in her arms as she feeds it a bottle. Her lips are full and painted blood red. She preens and smiles as though everyone is there to see her and the baby. I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. Hunter puts his arm around whom I’m assuming is his new wife, Francesca, and pets the infant’s hair fondly.

  Gag.

  Elliot’s sister Isabel comes to join them. She’s a wee-bit lanky, her wispy blond hair pulled back in a low, elegant bun. Isabel is a little younger than Catrina, perhaps by only a few months, but they are eons apart mentally. Catrina is brilliant and clever and witty. Isabel is dumber than a box of rocks. One day she’ll con some poor sap into filling her up with a kid so they can live miserable boring lives together.

  Gag.

  Catrina begins chatting with Isabel. Isabel holds her own and even makes Catrina giggle. The girls behave as though they’re best friends, even though I know Catrina despises her. So often after their tea dates, she’d come home and gripe about how boring she is. Later, I’ll get to hear all about it.

  “Staring is rude,” Helen snips behind me.

  I turn my stare on her and glower. “Being fucking nosy is rude too.”

  Her face turns red and she whips me in the head with her wooden spoon. “Don’t make me do that again.”

  I snatch her spoon, break it in two, and then toss it onto the floor. “There. I just made your job easier. Now you don’t have to worry about that happening again.”

  Turning my attention back to the dining room, I’m irritated to see Elliot standing so close to Catrina. She’s smiling—fucking smiling—at him and my blood boils. It’s an act, though. My sweet love will keep her dignity until her last dying breath. Her father may be dead and her brother holds her future in his hands, yet she still prances around as though she has the winning cards.

  And she does.

  She has me.

  Together, we will always win. I’ll die making sure that happens.

  Hours go by and I retreat to the old sewing room to sulk. I don’t care to hang out with those people. Hunter will just cause a scene anyway. As soon as this shit is over, I’ll be gone. I’ll get my girl out of here and we’ll take on the world together.

  I end up falling asleep on my old bed and wake when I hear cheering downstairs. It’s long past dusk by the time I stomp down the stairs to finally join the party. I’m stopped dead in my tracks to see Elliot with his arm around Catrina’s waist and a tumbler of liquor in his other hand. He’s whispering in her ear. Her cheeks turn red and she smiles at him like she does me sometimes when I’m between her thighs.

  Over. My. Goddamned. Body.

  I storm down the stairs, a roar of fury rushing past my lips. When I reach the bottom, all eyes are on me and the room has hushed. A snigger echoes from one corner and I recognize the bastard as Hunter.

  “Time to go, Catrina,” I snap as I storm over to her.

>   I grip her wrist and tug her to me. She lets out a choked sound. Elliot holds her tight, pulling her to him against my efforts.

  “No,” he says, sounding awfully ballsy with liquid courage running through his veins.

  “I’m not asking you, piss ant. I’m telling my girl we’re leaving,” I hiss.

  He chuckles. “Last I checked, she was my fiancée.”

  “Last week, she was for about six seconds,” I seethe. “Then I threw your ring in the toilet and put my dick inside her. Keep up, Lincoln.”

  “Heath!” Catrina cries out. “What a horrible thing to say!”

  Several people gasp in shock.

  “We’re leaving,” I growl, tugging her arm.

  This time, it’s her who pulls away. She jerks her hand away, fire flaming in her emerald eyes. “No.” She lifts her chin and swallows. “I’ve been doing some thinking…” Her gaze travels to Hunter’s wife, who nods in an encouraging way. Isabel, who is beside her, smiles.

  What in the ever-loving hell is happening?

  Since when are Tweedledee and Tweedledumbass her backup posse?

  “She’s staying,” Elliot says. “While you were off doing whatever poor bastards do, we were announcing to everyone our wedding date. Right, darling?”

  She winces slightly but then nods. “Right.”

  A pain hits me hard in the chest—so sharp I think Crenshaw isn’t the only person around here having a heart attack. “W-What?”

  Her hand thrusts my way and his ring sparkles in the light. “I’ve made my decision.”

  I shake my head. “No. Fuck no.”

  “It’s a done deal,” she breathes.

  A deal. She thinks marriage is a deal. Negotiate her pussy to the man with the most cash. Unbelievable.

  Elliot winks.

  I’m going to destroy him. I’m going to destroy everything he cares about.

  Hunter laughs.

  I will ruin that motherfucker if it’s the last thing I do.

  “You don’t mean this,” I rasp out. “Don’t do this to us.”