The Billionaire's Beloved (Key to My Heart Book 4) (11 page)

Chapter Eight

When I awoke again, the first thing I saw were a pair of blue eyes and a pair of black staring at me. The two billionaires sat on opposite ends of the room, intermittently glaring at each other and looking back at me.

This had to be a nightmare or just a terrible, terrible dream.

They’d both proposed to me, and I had yet to respond to a single one. I had to choose one though, I had to choose one who would help me to save the magazine. I couldn't do it on my own, and the only thing they'd asked for in return was my hand in marriage.

Hah, I almost chuckled, all that the two men wanted was to hold my whole life in the palm of their hand.

"Am I in hell?" I whispered with a groan.

"I can't believe you made her pass out again." Carlos hissed at Paul, clenching his fists. If they weren't in a hospital, he would have attacked the blond man right then and there.

Paul's face remained stoic, his jaw still clenched, "If you hadn't given her a panic attack, none of this would have happened."

"The doctors don't know that it was me!" the Latino growled, "There's no way to prove that it wasn't just the stress of the magazine...you on the other hand..."

"Boys." I said with a sigh, "If you would kindly just shut up for two seconds."

With mirroring pouts, both billionaires turned back to me.

“Carlos, how long have you been here?” I asked, “How long have I been out?”

“I came just in time to see this…this…” He struggled to keep his tongue polite, “
boy
 propositioning you like a coward, at your weakest moment. Then you passed out. It’s been fifteen minutes.”

"Who's it going to be?" Carlos suddenly added venomously, as he slowly climbed to his feet, taking slow and seductive steps towards my bedside, "We've both proposed to you," He paused to send a nasty glare towards Paul, "You need to pick one."

I shook my head, resting backwards against the pillow, "I'm not picking anything right now." I muttered, "Except dinner, that's all."

"Give it a rest, Carlos." Paul added as he stood, walking to stand at my other side. He ignored Carlos, gently rubbing a thumb over my hand, "You take a rest." he added with a smile, "Call me later."

He lifted my hand to his lips, gently kissing it before walking out of the room.

"See how easily he abandons you?" Carlos said, leaning over me, hands pressed against the sides of my head on the pillow, "See how willing he is to just leave you when you need him most? I will never leave you. I will never abandon you."

"Honestly, Carlos," I sighed, "Right now, I just want alone time."

His red lips pursed, irritation flashing in his eyes, "Mi amor, I do not want to leave you. I want to make sure you're alright."

"And thank you for that, Carlos, so much, but right now, I want to sleep." My eyelids weighed heavily, fighting to stay open. I needed to rest, I needed to think.

His lips ghosted against mine, lingering for just a moment before he sighed and swept out of the small room.

Finally alone, I fell into a restful, purposeful slumber for the first time in two days.

"Ms. Malone?" A deep voice gently roused me from slumber. Over my head, a doctor shined a light into my eyes, "Ms. Malone, how do you feel?"

"Miranda." I corrected lazily.

I felt like I'd finally slept, I felt like I'd been asleep for a million years. I felt hungry.

"Alright, Miranda, how are we doing?" He picked up my chart, flipping through it, "We're about ready to discharge you whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready." I sighed, sitting up. I wanted to spend no more time in a hospital bed. My own was calling for me.

"Good. Now I want you to take the rest of the week off of work, keep anxieties to a minimum for a little while. If it happens again, make an appointment to be checked out." The Doctor scribbled on a notepad before handing it to me, "The nurses will come discharge you now."

As he left, I stared at the note, reveling in the words 'stay home.' I'd never been so grateful for a break from work. Usually, that was my safe place, the one place that I actually desired to be. Now, I wanted a break.

Just as I was leaving the hospital, Carlos walked in the large doors.

"Mi amor," he murmured, an unusual tepidness to his tone, "I didn't mean to run into you. I was just going to drop off some food. Can I take you home? I promise to let you rest, I'll leave straight away."

The food in his hands smelled delicious, "Sure, Carlos." I said with a smile, "That sounds wonderful."

Outside the doors, Carlos' limo waited patiently as he carefully guided me into the soft leather seats.

"How are you doing?" He asked, grasping me knee before taking my hand and pressing it to his lips, "I have never been so filled with worry."

I shook my head, "I'm fine, I'm just going to be staying home from work for a few days."

He nodded eagerly, "of course, you need rest. I will look after the staff until you return."

Something about that made me nervous, like I was handing over the reins too freely. But Carlos had experience as an editor, he would be able to get our weekly issue out when I was unable. I could only hope that he did it well. Our magazine was much different than his paper, after all.

Once the limo pulled up to my complex building, Carlos helped me inside, following me up with the food to my apartment.

"It's quaint." he said after clearing his throat, "Quite quaint." As though that was the only term he could come up with. I couldn't blame him. His home must be majestic and beautiful, full of antique paintings and marble statues. Mine was full of dust and scratched DVDs.

I laughed, shaking my head as I settled onto the couch,” I know, it's a mess."

"I will have my maid come over tomorrow." he said sternly, laying out the boxes of delicious food before me, "Now, I will let take my leave."

"...Carlos, why don't you stay for a little while?" I said slowly, he’d taken me home, taken care of me, I owed him at least a meal, "This is way too much food just myself."

He hesitated, standing awkwardly. I couldn't tell if he was deeply uncomfortable in the messy, cramped area, or if he was actually considering my feelings and health.

"Alright, if that's your wish, mi amor." he finally purred, settling himself down on the couch beside me.

We ate dinner quietly, watching old school TV reruns on my ancient television set. As the food dwindled and the episodes repeated, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the sexy scent of the man at my side. Whatever cologne he used could end wars. He watched the television with the same intensity that he watched me walk by him, one of his tan hands resting on my ankle, massaging the skin tenderly.

His handsome head turned abruptly, red lips cracking into a smirk, "Mi amor, you stare at me, not your movie. Are you alright?"

I nodded quietly, almost turning my head back to the show that no longer captivated my interests.

Instead, I slowly moved onto my knees, crawling towards the handsome man.

"Thank you for keeping me company, Carlos." I said quietly, "Thank you for checking on me and bringing me food."

"Like I said," he responded gently, "Anything for you. Anything. Whatever you ask of me, I will give it to you. Whatever you need of me, you can freely take."

The dark haired billionaire’s hands reached up, gently tucking my unkempt hair behind my ear as I leaned against his strong chest, welcoming the taste of his lips against mine as his hands swept down my back, lingering on every curve that my body had to offer him. He pulled me against him so I settled into his lap, tongue barely sweeping the line of my lower lip as I sighed softly against his kiss.

"Carlos?" I murmured against his mouth as his hands tightened around me, "Would you like some coffee?"

Chapter Nine

Something rattled in the distance.

Again and again it resounded, echoing painfully between my ears until my eyes lazily forced themselves to part as another bang hit against my door forcefully.

I moaned, rolling over to face the side of the bed that Carlos had been laying on, only to find the spot empty and cold. He'd left much earlier, though I couldn't fault him for that. He had a magazine to run for me.

With a sigh, I struggled to my feet, rubbing my fingers against my aching temples as I slid into a bathrobe. I winced as another rough series of knocking erupted against my door.

Just who the hell would be trying to break down my door at this time of morning? They were going to wake the neighbors.

Rushing to the door, I swung it open to reveal a tiny little raven haired woman, her jaw set firm as a pipeline, eyes fiery as hell.

"Um, I think you have the wrong door?" I asked, trying to be polite though my head pounded.

"Ms. Malone?" She said, barging in and taking a good look around the place, "I'm fairly sure this is exactly where I was sent."

"Who are you?" I asked, flicking on the coffee pot. I couldn't deal with this until I had some coffee in me.

"Jodie. I'm your new maid, Carlos sent me." She spoke in rapid words, as though she couldn't spit out her sentences quick enough. She wandered around, running a finger over the shelves with pointed disdain, "I'm glad he's paying me extra." She added bitterly.

I sighed, pouring a huge cup of coffee that I was apparently going to need.

"You may want to leave." She said, "Parting with all this dust may be an emotional experience."

I blinked, staring at her with an arched brow. Was that an attempt at a joke?'

Jodie stared right back at me, clearing her throat and shooting a jerk of her chin towards my door, "Well?"

"I'm going, I'm going." I sighed, grabbing a loose fitting shirt and a pair of jeans and escaping into the bathroom to change. I didn't want to spend any more time around that lady then she wanted to spend with me. Besides, who comes banging on doors like that in the morning?

I cast a quick glance at my watch, tapping the screen as I stared at the time.

It was already past noon. I tapped the glass again, to see if it was working.

I couldn't remember the last time I slept in so late, I must've been exhausted.

As I left the bathroom, I said goodbye to the fervently dusting maid, only eliciting a side glare from her honey brown eyes. After that, I escaped so quickly I completely forgot my cup of coffee. I'd have to hit the coffee stand down the road, there was no way I'd go back into that war zone.

Lazily, I drifted down the street, eyeing shops and sipping at my fresh, steaming cup of bitter liquid. I hesitated in front of a fancy bridal boutique, taking in the white chiffon and lace that elegantly wrapped around a mannequin. Would I be able to pull it off as stunningly as the plastic, headless women did? I highly doubted it.

My plain face gazed back at me, scrutinizing every inch of my mussed hair and unmade-up face. How exactly had all this happened anyways? Since when was I such a hot commodity that two billionaires would be dueling over me, fighting to win my affection and hand in marriage. Was this really 2015? I felt like I was trapped in the 1700s or something.

I moved on, coming across a shop full of decorative paintings and furniture. From my place on the street, I could the thousand dollar price tags and women with their fancy handbags and perfect hair inspecting them diligently. Would I be one of those women soon enough? Would I have perfect hair and skin and nails, never having to worry about another bill in my life?

That would be a little painful, I realized. Like I was giving up my free will. Did I even need it anymore? I would probably lose my 'quaint' little home, my freedom, my last name. All for my staff, for my magazine, for my work that I've dedicated my life to.

It would be worth it, it had to be. I would do what I had to do.

With another sip of my coffee I walked to the neighborhood park across the street and settled onto a bench. It'd been a long time since I just sat and thought and looked at the beautiful plants and the kids playing on the playground.

The coffee sat warm in my lap, gently heating my hands. The sun drifted overhead, cool breeze billowing the sleeves of my shirt. I would probably be able to do this more often, once the magazine was all settled. They wouldn't need me to work such long hours, I wouldn't need to go in every weekend. I could literally stop and enjoy the daisies. I could actually take the few seconds to taste my coffee.

I wasn't sure if I wanted that yet. I loved throwing myself behind a swiftly approaching deadline, I loved the stress and the adrenaline of almost missing a piece. I loved interviews and phone calls and seeing my name everywhere.

But, here I was, in deep need of someone to help me. I couldn't do this myself. I couldn't be the superhero single handedly saving the day, even though I wanted to. I'd done everything in my power, but it still made zero difference. This time, I just wasn’t enough, as difficult as it was to admit.

I was between the billionaires, a rock and a hard place. If I declined both of them, the magazine wouldn't make it to the end of the year. I just couldn't take the failure. My staff would know I failed, the billionaires would probably delight in knowing I failed without them, and most of all, I would have to face that failure. I would have to start over from scratch, maybe get a gig as a weather girl or something equally humiliating.

No. That just wasn't possible.

I would have to choose either Paul or Carlos. Paul was sensible, kind, and sweet, as well as gorgeous as hell. Carlos was exotic and caring, an astounding kisser, and he had good choice in food.

I had my work cut out for me, trying to decide which of these men I was going to take into my heart forever.