A Forbidden Love (Eligible Billionaires Book 9) (3 page)

Justin sighed. His internal war showed on his face. Money was the way he kept score.

“I’m not giving anything away,” Devon said. “I’m looking to invest in businesses that can not only make money, but can also create a positive impact.” He didn’t really know how much he cared about the making money part at this point, but he had to attempt to assuage Justin and Anthony’s concerns if he wanted them to give him a chance.

“Look.” Justin scrubbed his hand across his jaw. “If you want to run the Travati Foundation, I can talk to Aubrey. With Max leaving for college and the baby, she’s busy, and I’m sure she’d love the help.”

Devon shook his head. “This isn’t charity work. What I’m talking about is doing business with a bigger social conscience.”

“You’re totally going to put us out of business, aren’t you?” Leo teased, a wicked smile playing over his lips. “Have the alfalfa sprouts and avocados gone to your head? You’ve become a hippy dippy socialist.”

“Stop.” Devon smiled, knowing Leo wasn’t serious. “You know that’s not true. All I’m saying is I’m starting something different out here. There’ll be profit, but the margins will be thinner because success won’t be measured by dollars alone.”

Justin shook his head. “Sounds like a huge risk.” His gaze darted from Leo to Anthony and back to Devon. “I want to support this decision, but I’m not sure we can.”

Leo shot Justin a look. “What’s the ‘we’ shit?” He cracked his knuckles. “
I’m
with him. It’s called loyalty. You two number crunchers remember that word?”

Both Anthony and Justin paled at Leo’s stern tone. Yes, Devon had shown his loyalty to them by how he conducted himself during the trial. He’d stood alone when he testified and he’d been selective but honest with his words, never dragging his brothers into the scandal. Anthony’s nostrils flared. Now he was asking for just a little support from them in return. Nope, Devon wasn’t making any of his brothers happy by doing so. Except maybe Leo, who had some twisted love of watching the two uptight Travati brothers (as he called them) become uncomfortable.

“We’re loyal. We’ve had his back since before the trial, and he still has a job,” Anthony shot out.

Devon’s chest tightened. So that was it. According to at least one of his brothers, he was damaged goods. Hmm…of course…so Justin and Anthony thought they were doing
him
a favor by allowing him to return to Travati Financial, and it annoyed them that he wasn’t doing it on their terms. But Devon didn’t want favors or handouts. He simply wanted to invest in businesses that he believed in for more than financial gain.

“I need more specifics,” Justin gritted out.

“That’s fair.” Leo turned his gaze toward Devon. “Get us a plan.” He leaned forward. “And make it solid.”

That was exactly what Devon intended to do.

*

Sleep evaded Ilana. She’d chased zzz’s all night. Wide awake and restless. What was she going to do? Had she truly managed to lose her entire investment and her best friend’s investment before their new business even opened?

And the phone calls.

There’d been more from the same number. She closed her eyes. Whoever it was had left voicemails. Three exactly. She couldn’t listen. She didn’t want to listen. My God, who was trying to find her?

Her heart hammered. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Damn, damn, damn…if she’d only hired the attorney Amelia had recommended. If she only had a different life…a different past…

Deep breath.

There was a solution to every problem. Hadn’t Mama always said that? Granted, the solution wasn’t always what you wanted, but still…there had to be a solution. She somehow had to find a way to manage the rent increase, keep the Center in business, and deal with whomever was trying to contact her.

Ilana jumped out of bed and took two steps to the window. No point in pretending she was going to get to sleep now. The streets were still dark, but light touched the edges of the horizon. When the clock ticked a few more minutes, sunlight would begin to illuminate the Venice sky.

To save money, she’d opted to move into the postage-stamp-sized studio apartment above the Community Enrichment Center. Now, after her meeting with Felicia, Ilana realized she lived in what soon would be the most expensive five hundred square feet in Venice.

She pulled on a sports bra and running gear. Plopped down on her bed to tie her shoes. If she couldn’t sleep, then she’d clear her head with a run. Mama had always believed the best way to find the solution to a problem was with a clear head, and nothing cleared Ilana’s head like running. Down the stairs, through the front lobby, and out the front door.

The scents of salt water and someone cooking bacon for breakfast hit her nose. She turned west and started a slow pace. In two blocks the Pacific spread out before her. She trotted across a parking lot and took a right onto the cement walking and bike path, a ribbon through the sand that went all the way north to Malibu. In the distance, surfers bobbed up and down on their boards, waiting for waves. You had to admire their dedication. Too cold for her. Climbing into a rubbery wet suit and then paddling out in the water? Nope. A run at five a.m. was more than enough of a challenge for Ilana.

Her footfalls on the pavement created a steady rhythm. Each crunch of sand beneath her rubber-soled shoe ground an anxious thought into obscurity. Deep breaths. The ocean, the breathing, the silence…dodging other runners and some bicyclists. Yes. She needed this. Focus. Clarity.

The tense knot in her shoulder that had been bothering her untangled, and the persistent pain slid away with the sway of her motion. She glanced again at the ocean and took a deep breath. Sunlight attempted to split the clouds. Surfers took turns catching waves. Slow and easy pace, her feet pounding out the beat, the sound similar to—

“Ow! What the fuck, lady?”

Her foot landed on something soft and uneven instead of pavement. Her ankle twisted and a sharp slice of pain jolted the joint. She thudded into the pavement, the cement scraping her knees and palms. Her teeth clacked together as her chin struck the ground. She closed her eyes and took an inventory. Everything seemed okay, although her hands, knees, and her chin throbbed. Her ankle ached. She slid her tongue over her teeth to make certain all remained firmly in place and unchipped.

Then she opened her eyes and looked up.

The guy who peered down at her hadn’t been so lucky as far as teeth were concerned.

“You stepped on my hand.” He leaned closer. Yep, he was definitely missing two teeth—an upper right and a bottom left. From the smell of his breath, it was most likely from failure to brush.

“Sorry. Are you okay?” Ilana asked. She pushed her hands against the pavement to get up, but a vile, woozy sensation cascaded through her head. She rolled over onto her back instead, closing her eyes again.

“Lady, I think you hit your chin pretty hard.”

Cement pressed into her shoulder blades and the grit of the sand bit into her skin. Her chin burned. “I’m okay.” She opened her eyes.

Oh. Holy Mother of God. Was she hallucinating? The semi-toothless, scraggly-bearded homeless guy with rancid breath and questionable hygiene had been replaced by a clean-shaven man with a strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and vivid blue eyes kneeling next to her. Eyes that Ilana could get lost in. She had to be hallucinating…totally hallucinating. His black hair dripped water down his bare, well-muscled chest.

“Wedge, you okay?” The guy asked without removing his fixed stare from her.

“Yeah, man, she just got the edge of my hand. Broke a fingernail. But hell, she came down hard.”

Mr. Gorgeous-Beyond-Belief continued to stare at her. He reached out and touched her chin, tilting it up slightly to get a better look at the scrape, his fingertips cool against her skin. The soft touch sent a warm tingle down her neck. His lips tightened.

“That looks kind of nasty.”

His baby blues could put the Pacific and a California sun-kissed sky to shame. No one deserved to have eyes that color and full lips and that strong chin plus thick, jet-black hair. Ilana’s gaze traveled over his shoulders, pecs, and abs was she having one of
those
dreams only in hallucinatory form? And why was there a toothless homeless guy in her fantasy?

“Can you stand?” The gorgeous man reached out his hand. Ilana nodded. Maybe not a hallucination. Maybe he was real. Maybe really real. She clasped his outstretched hand. White-hot desire pulsed down her arm. Every cell in her body jolted with energy. She shook her head. Closed her eyes and opened them again. Yep, he was still there, kneeling beside her on the bike path at Venice Beach, this gorgeous guy who sparked longing down to her core.

He pulled her up to a seated position. No vertigo this time. Ilana looked to her left where—what was his name?—
Wedge
stood beside his tent.

“That’s Wedge and I’m Devon.”

“My name’s Ilana,” she said.

“You stepped on my hand. Broke my thumbnail.” Wedge stuck his finger into his mouth and sucked on the injured digit. “Hurts.”

“Right, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I was—”

“You were too damn busy looking at the drink is what you were doing.” Irritation in Wedge’s voice. “You’re gonna run in somebody’s backyard, you gotta look where you’re going.”

“Backyard?” Ilana looked around, confused. The waterfront townhouses were on the far side of the cement bike path. The sand on the near side of the path stretched all the way to the ocean’s edge.

“Yeah, this is my backyard. Who the hell you think sleeps in this tent each night?” Wedge said, pointing to the one-man pop-up. “I do!”

“Oh right. Backyard.” Ilana pressed her hand to the side of her head. “Sorry.” Pounding throbbed through her skull. She touched her chin gingerly, and pulled her fingers away red.

“You’re bleeding,” Devon said. He leaned closer to scrutinize the scrape. He smelled clean and salty. Then he sat back on his haunches, his wet suit hanging from his hips. Ilana wanted to reach out, to skim her hands over that smooth wet skin…to feel the curve of his muscles beneath her fingers.

Jeez. Since when did she want to touch a stranger’s muscles? She must have really hit her head.

“Looks like you scraped up your knees too. Are you okay?”

“I think I’m fine.” She bent her legs to put her feet flat and started to stand. A sharp pain tore through her ankle. “Ah! My ankle. Maybe not.”

“Okay, so, no to walking.” Devon put one arm around her waist and his other arm under her bent knees. With one secure pull, he lifted her off the ground and into his arms.

Hello!
Her heart jolted in her chest.
Wow.

“Let’s get some ice and maybe a cloth to stop that chin from bleeding.” He smiled. Who had teeth that white and a smile that perfectly even? “Wedge, can you open the gate for me?” Wedge hustled to a few steps in front of them as Devon started across the path.

“Wait.” Ilana turned her head to gaze into the eyes of this gorgeous man who’d literally just swept her off her feet. “Where are you taking me?”

A smile broke across Devon’s face. “To my house, of course.”

Devon’s place was spartan. He hadn’t entertained, and he definitely hadn’t decorated. The best part of his digs was the view from the back patio and the deck off the master suite that looked out onto his backyard—the Pacific. As attractive as she was, Devon doubted he’d be showing this absolutely gorgeous woman in his arms the master suite.

“No need to worry about this guy, lady,” Wedge said as he shuffled ahead of them toward the nearby gate. “He’s a good egg. Besides, I’ll come too.”

Devon fought the smile that threatened to curve over his face. To her credit, the girl in his arms made no remark that the guy who was offering to protect her, should she need it, was a homeless man who lived in a tent on Venice Beach. Nope, she didn’t frown or make a face or wrinkle her nose at Wedge’s suspect hygiene and possibly unstable mental health. No, she took out her phone instead and began to text.

“I’m just letting my best friend know what’s happened.” She looked up into Devon’s eyes.

His heart tightened and heat flashed through his body.

“We’re supposed to meet at work in an hour,” she continued.

Devon nodded and took a long breath. Under the clean scent of her sweat, he could smell lemons. The aroma of lemons and some sort of flower filled his nose. Was it weird that he took a second and then third breath, wanting to fill his lungs with the fragrance of this stranger? A woman he didn’t know, but who said her name was…Ilana. It sounded so exotic, so unusual, and yet there was something about her, the weight of her in his arms, the way her body molded to his, something that seemed
familiar
. He shook his head. How ridiculous.

Ridiculous or not, the heat that swelled in his belly and below spoke to the definite attraction. One look into her eyes, and he had felt familiarity laced with warmth. A longing had taken hold of him. Was it her vulnerability? Her injury? He’d always been a sucker for saving hurt animals and people. But this longing…seemed somehow different than the attraction he’d experienced with women before now.

Wedge pushed open the gate to Devon’s backyard. Devon walked in and settled Ilana on the chaise lounge by the fire pit.

“Okay?” he asked. That face. Wow, that face belonged in a painting, or on a magazine cover or something…with its delicate sculpted cheekbones and that classic jaw and tiny upturned nose. She nodded, her blue eyes shining out with warmth…she wasn’t classically beautiful, she was stunning.

“I’ll get some ice for that.” Devon disappeared inside the townhouse, pulling open the back door a few minutes later with a large Ziploc bag of ice and a clean cloth in his hand. “Oh man, it’s swelling.” He draped the bag over her ankle. “Put this on your chin.” He handed Ilana the cloth.

Ilana gingerly pressed the cloth to her chin.

Devon leaned forward and peered at the scrape. Dried blood smeared the edges of her jaw. “I think we should take you to urgent care. You need an x-ray for that ankle, and it’d be a good idea to get those scrapes looked at.”