The Billionaire's Claim: Obsession

“What do you want, Elizabeth?”

I straighten. “Hand over the portraits. No more games, no more deals.”

“Right now?”

I consider. “No. After Thanksgiving…but before November’s out. There’s no need to disrupt Ryder and Paige’s dinner party plans. It’s their first as a wedded couple after all. But don’t wait till the last minute. If you don’t hand them over before the deadline, the photos go public. And I’ll watch you give all your exes hundreds of millions of dollars each.”

The muscles in his jaw flex. “You think you’ve won?” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Won?” I tilt my head. “I’ve brought you a problem, then given you a solution. You ought to thank me.” I pause. “Oh, and don’t forget to buy a new place as far away from me as possible and move before the month’s over. I’m tired of living at Ryder’s. He and Paige are newlyweds, and I’m sure they’d like some privacy.” I turn and start to walk away, heady euphoria bursting inside me like a caterpillar from its chrysalis.

He slams the surface of desk with a fist. “This is blackmail!”

“So sue me.” I keep walking.

Once the door to his suite closes, I slump against the wall, letting out a soft sigh. My knees shake in a delayed reaction.

Tolyan comes up beside me. “Is it done?”

I nod, then take his proffered hand and enter the waiting elevator.

I’m almost certain Dad will give up the paintings to hide his mistress. On the other hand, he doesn’t always do the most obvious thing.

Now, I have to wait.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Elizabeth

I pace in my room. The waiting is awful.

Although he’s doing his best to hide it, Tolyan’s still annoyed with me for asking him to find a solution to Andy that doesn’t involve him “disappearing.” And I’m doing my best not to think about my last conversation with Dominic, how much it hurt to walk away. But when he hesitated, I knew. It’s over between us. One thing I realized after he came back into my life—I don’t just want him to not hate me. I want him to love me as though I’m more vital to him than air and water and light. But he’s not going to love me like that when he can’t even bring himself to tell me he trusts me. Trying to fix what happened ten years ago is like trying to unscramble an egg.

I’m going to give him what he wants. Then we’ll both have closure, and maybe I can move on. No, not maybe, not can. Must. I have to be able to move on, after what I’m planning to give up.

I wish I’d asked Dad to hand the portraits over before Thanksgiving. I can’t focus on anything. I keep checking my emails and texts, hoping and praying and wishing.

“Stop worrying. He’s probably checking with his lawyers to see if there’s a way to out,” Tolyan says from a love seat, arms spread along the back. “He can consult every lawyer in the state, but the answer is going to be the same. He’ll have to give half of everything to his exes if the photos become public. I already checked.”

I trust Tolyan’s thoroughness. If it comes to that, once Dad’s exes are through, he’ll end up with less than five percent of his assets. Each will want half of whatever he has left after each successive divorce. With five former wives, that won’t leave much.

“He’d rather die than to give his exes a penny. He didn’t love them when he married them, and he doesn’t respect them,” I say, still pacing. “I don’t know why he didn’t simply marry his long-term mistress. It would’ve been easier…and more dignified.”

“Thank God he didn’t. It gave you something to break him with. He probably didn’t marry her because he wanted the illicit thrill and convenience of a mistress. A lot of men feel it.”

“It seems so silly.”

“Of course it’s silly. Who ever said people are logical?”

“No one. But I thought people would do what’s most…normal. Having a mistress who lasts longer than all your wives is weird.”

Tolyan shrugs. “Don’t complain. Thanks to her, you can move back home.”

True. Once Dad hands over the portraits, I’m moving back to Virginia, where I have a concealed carry permit. A gun doesn’t guarantee safety, but it’s better than nothing and gives me peace of mind.

The Monday after Thanksgiving, I get an email…well, more like a blast sent to me and all my brothers.

Subject: Meeting