The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sanniyah

Shock
is supposed to sober you up, isn't it? That's what I have always heard. But I'm
stumbling through the hospital entrance, still reeling like a drunken sailor.
Tricia and Rita insisted on coming with me, with Rita somehow sober enough to
drive. Tricia is clutching me right now. I know she is trying to hug me,
support me, but she is leaning so hard I fear we both might fall over.

And
when I see my mother's exhausted face, I know I'm going to crumple to the
ground.

She
unfolds herself from the chair and sobriety finally finds me. "Mom,"
I say, rushing to her.

"Baby
girl," she sighs, folding me into her arms. The instant she has me, we are
both crying.

"What
happened?" I sniffle through my sobs. My mother's grief is infecting me.
I'm taking it on in addition to my own.

She
pulls back and squares her shoulders. It's such an unconscious gesture, so much
like her normal self that the tears are flowing again. My mother always centers
herself before she speaks. She always chooses her words carefully, for maximum
effect, making sure to hit you with the full force of her emotional one, two
punches. But there is no power in her stance now. She is just trying to hold
herself together.

"They're
saying it was a stroke," she says, like the doctors can't be trusted.
"He was walking to the bathroom, Yahya, and he just..." her chest
hitches slightly," went...down."

"Oh
mom."

"I
was right there, honey. I haven't left his side, not once." The tired
lines etched into her face are proof of that. "So I was right there to
catch him as he fell, but that man just got so fat. I kept telling him he
needed to lay off the sweets, that it was going to be the death of him. He was
too damn heavy for me to hold up and we both went down." For the first
time I see the splint around her wrist. "He landed on me, and the doctors
say that's the only thing that kept him from splitting his damn head
open." She shakes her head at the irony. "I got stuck though. Had to
pull myself out from under him to get to the phone...and...."

I am
openly weeping now. Tricia is patting me everywhere, but I barely feel it. I
watch my mom as the full force of what she just went through hits her. All the
color drains from her cheeks, her beautiful cocoa skin an ashen gray with deep
purple bags under her eyes. "They say it might have been too long,"
she finally whispers. "They don't know how much of him is left in
there."

Tricia
grabs me, steering me towards the chairs before my knees buckle. I land, hard.
"When will we know?" I croak. This isn't right. Not Otis. He has dignity,
poise. He is always dressed up, his pocket square ironed crisply in his Sunday
best suit. He always walked with such a straight back that I teased him about
the literal stick up his ass...

My
mother glances up at the huge clock that dominates the wall above us. "I
have no idea, Yahya. We just have to wait. And pray." Her shoulders hitch.
"That man doesn't deserve this," she half moans, half wails.

She
collapses against my shoulder and I cradle her face, letting her tears soak my
hand as I try to soothe her with words I don't believe. "It's going to be
okay, Mom. Otis is strong, you know that. Remember when Monique stayed with you
two, and he was so intent on being the best granpappy ever that he nearly broke
himself in two? You yelled at him to stop tossing the twins around like they
were ragdolls? And he just looked at you like you were talking Chinese to him
and went on throwing those seventy pound kids around like they weighed nothing
at all."

My mom
sniffles. "He was hurtin' for days after that, I know he was. But he
wasn't about to let me say I told you so. Caught him sneaking Tylenol in the
bathroom and I just had to laugh at him."

"See,
he's strong and stubborn, mama. He's not about to go down without a
fight."

I
expect her to agree, because it is true. But instead my mother is quiet and
still. I feel a flutter of fear in my stomach. "Mama?"

Slowly,
she sits up. Her face is dry, her gaze faraway. She is staring at a point on
the floor in front of her and I look towards it on instinct. There is nothing
there except a spot, but I stare too, wondering what it is that is holding my
mom's attention.

"He's
been fighting for so long," she says, slowly. The hitching in her voice is
gone and she is speaking clearly. "So long. My man is tired of fighting
and he deserves a rest. I don't want to see him trying so hard to stick around
if he's hurting himself doing it."

"No,
mama."

"Yes,
Yahya. He doesn't have to fight for us anymore. We're okay, he's done right in
every sense of the word. It ain't fair to be holding on so tight if we're only
hurting him in doing so."

I am
shaking my head. "No mama," I can only repeat the words over and over
again. "I can't lose him. He has to stay." My voice is rising and
Tricia is shushing me, but the words won't stop. I grip the handles of the hard
chair, ignoring the swivel of heads in my direction as I feel myself shouting
louder and louder.
 
"This isn't
how it's supposed to be... I'm not ready! I'm not ready!"

Chapter Twenty-Four

Carter

Greg is
going to be my brother-in-law very very soon. And the fact that Cammy loves him
is the only thing that is keeping me from killing him right now.

"You
have all of this unused real estate on the southwest side of the island,"
he is saying. He wavers slightly and grips both the railing and his cocktail
glass a little harder. Cammy is staring at him in mute horror, but she's too
sweet to tell him to shut the fuck up and I want to see just how far he is
going to take this. "This is a serious business proposal, Carter. I could
have you an offer in writing by close of business today. Seriously, you're
sitting on a gold mine right here. With the natural harbor, we could market it
to the yacht crowd, a cluster of exclusive villas with your property right here
as the main hotel on the premises. I'd have to clear the final numbers with
headquarters, but conservatively, I'd say you'd be able to increase your
investment here tenfold...at minimum."

He
finally shuts up, clearly pleased with himself as he stares into the waves. I
decide to count to ten, for my sister's sake, before I flatten him.

"Greg,"
Cammy's voice is simultaneously softness and steel.

Greg's
drunken focus settles on my sister. She is standing on my deck in a simple
white dress, barefoot and barefaced. To my eyes, she looks like the same little
sister I've always had, but it's clear when Greg looks at her that she is way
more than that. As she raises her eyebrows, his face shows an array of
emotions, starting with confusion and then ending up with slow, dawning horror,
then finally sober regret.

"Ah,
shit. I'm a complete asshole, aren't I?"

I don't
answer him, but I do unclench my fists a little.

Greg
smears the palm of his hand down his face. "Carter, shit.
I'm am
really sorry. I was on that business trip for so damn
long I forgot how to be a human being.
 
I only know how to speak in deals now."
He peeks out from between his fingers. "Thanks for not decking me."

"He
wouldn't do that," Cammy pipes up, fixing me with that same steely gaze.
"Would you, Carter?"

"Of
course not," I say as I shake my hands out. "No hard feelings."
I extend my hand, and Greg takes it eagerly. I swear I see him checking over my
shoulder to make sure Cammy sees us making up.

"Thank
you," Greg says, pumping my hand up in the enthusiastic manner of a real
estate mogul. "I really thought you were going to punch me out there for a
moment."

I feel
Cammy's hand on my shoulder as she peeks at her husband to be. "I wouldn't
have let him, Greg." She pats me reassuringly. "Or at least I
wouldn't have let him hit you too badly."

Now
that the tension has passed, I feel silly. "Okay, okay, I'm not a fucking
psychopath or anything. I'm not just going to snap and kill someone just for
suggesting that I, I...I don't know. Get over my pathological fear of people,
or something."

"You're
not afraid of people, Carter." This is a familiar refrain, one that my
sister has been singing since the day after we buried our parents. "You
are having a legitimate anger response to the way Mom and Dad died."

I
bristle. "You don't need to be my therapist, Cam. I have a call in to Dr.
Kaplan already. I'm being a good boy."

Greg
cocks his head to the side. "Hey, so I'm more than a little buzzed here
and my mouth has already gotten me in trouble once, but can I just say
something here?"

"Go
ahead," I growl.

"Granted
I don't know all the details here and whatever, but from what Cammy has told
me, this whole freakout you had?" I feel my fists clench and I know he
sees it, but he soldiers on, in too deep to not see his babbling all the way
through. "It actually seems to me that rather than this be some sort of
setback or reason to call your therapist and all that stuff, that you actually
just made huge
progress
. "

"Greg,"
Cammy says warningly.

He
throws up his hands. "No, just hear me out here. You never met this Sanniyah
person before." He gestured at Cammy. "You trusted Cam with her
decision to hire her, and you allowed her to visit Annika without running a
billion background checks or whatever you usually do when you hire people to
work here."

"I
run a billion background checks," I confirm under my breath.

Greg
nods. "You trusted she'd be okay. And...unless I'm wrong here...you, er,
found her company to be quite...enjoyable."

"Greg!"
Cammy is blushing but I have to laugh.

"I
did...." I concede.

"You
liked her?"

"Yeah,"
I grunt. Flashbacks of her naked body writhing on my sheets send a little
shockwave right down to my groin.

"And
until she left all in a huff, you had almost settled on maybe, just maybe,
pursuing something with her?"

Cammy
turns to me, her mouth agape. "You were really ready?" she sounds
triumphant.

I sink
back down onto the deck chair and bury my head in my hands. "I'm fucking
tired of this life, Cam. I really, truly am done with this. The guys that did
it...they're in jail...right? They're not getting out for a long time."

"And
you're doing such a good job with Annika's Law, too. Dennis told me that he's
bringing it to the floor next time Congress is in session." Cammy adds
softly. "He's got bipartisan support now, did he tell you? There's almost
no way you can lose right now. And once it's passed, you can take pride in
knowing that you're keeping other people's lives safe and private."

I nod. This
will be my legacy, more than my company, more than my wealth. Annika's Law will
change the landscape. Stiffer sentences for harassment, the ability to sue
tabloids for libel, the ability to copyright one's own image... all stuff that
would have helped save my parents two years ago. It was what I could do to
preserve their memory and try to make some sense out of a senseless tragedy.

"So
really, man. You need to stop thinking of yourself as broken because you are
clearly not." Greg claps me on the back and I feel the urge to deck him
fighting with the desperate desire to believe him. "You took a chance on
this Sanniyah chick, and you came out...okay."

"Okay,
huh?
 
I guess that's the best I can
hope for," I chuckle ruefully.

"Not
true," Cammy pipes up. "More than okay. You did it, Carter. You made
a connection with someone."

"And
then she left me," I point out.

Cammy
cocks her head to the side, once more looking and sounding exactly like our
mom. "So get her back, you dolt," she grins. "Tell you what, I'm
supposed to see her tomorrow anyway. She's taking me dress shopping. I'll see
if I can put in a good word for you, okay big brother?"

I feel
the rush of air whoosh out of my lungs and with it the residue of my fear.
Instead there is only excitement. The thrill of the new that made me an
"innovator" in the first place. "Okay," I tell her.
"Let's give it a shot."

She
smiles broadly and Greg claps my back again. "Aren't you glad I ignored
you when you said to fire her?" Cam snickers.

I roll
my eyes at my sister. "You're a pain in my ass," I tell her as I
catch her roughly into a hug. "Love you, Cam."

"Love
you too, idiot," she tells my shirt.