Filthy Rich (Blackstone Dynasty 1)

The scars on my right calf and knee were the reason for the boots or tights when I wore skirts. The scars were ugly, yes, but mostly I just didn’t want to have to see them and . . . remember.

“YOU have an admirer, condesa, look what’s been delivered for Brooke.” Eduardo strolled up to my work area with a gorgeous pot of dark red peonies and set them down on my desk. The flowers were a stunning cranberry red with most of the stems still in the round-bud stage. They would become huge blooms when they opened. Striking and unusual, and totally unexpected.

“Who from?” I couldn’t imagine who would send me flowers. Martin? No, he was too cheap for flowers. These looked expensive, plus it was a plant and not a vase of cut flowers. I could plant it in the ground in Nan’s garden eventually and enjoy them for a long time.

“Read the card, ay Dios mío, what are you waiting for?” He plucked it from the bouquet and shoved it at me. “I will die before you tell me who sent this to you.”

“You really should have been an actor, Eduardo,” I told him as I opened the envelope and read the card.

Brooke,

Please accept these flowers as a token of my appreciation for the meatball lesson last night.

It was unforgettable.

Caleb

The guy with the black eye. Unforgettable? He’d made the effort to be nice even after he’d been knocked down by the arsehole who’d put his hands on me. Why? Why send me expensive flowers, and furthermore, how did he even know where to send them? He knew my name. I wondered if he’d asked Martin, but that would be a really low blow for Martin to disclose my information to a stranger. Also illegal.

I handed the card to Eduardo so he could read it.

Remembering our conversation from last night, I recalled how he’d offered me a ride, which I hadn’t accepted, but he hadn’t turned nasty when I’d declined his invitation. I appreciated that part of his personality most of all. A man who understood the word no wasn’t that easy to find in my limited experience. They seemed to be few and far between. I was tempted for a moment, to call the number written in bold black pen on the back of the card that I could now see clearly visible from Eduardo’s hand. But what would I say?

Caleb. I couldn’t help smiling when I remembered how cute he’d been with me over a tray of meatballs. Surely the most ridiculous conversation ever, yet he’d gone to the trouble to send me flowers that even looked like a meatball while in the bud stage. I studied the flowers again. The color was spot on. So pretty. Wow.

What a very clever man this Caleb was.

Incredibly handsome, too. Even wearing the results of that devastating blow to his head.

I endured the teasing of the peonies sitting prettily upon my desk for the next two hours before I said to hell with it and gave up the struggle. My excuse? I’m a woman and my curiosity won out. I sent him a text.

Caleb, thank you for the beautiful flowers in meatball red. Very lovely gesture . . . but . . . how did you know where to find me? –Brooke

My phone rang about one minute later, and I couldn’t help but smile for a second time.

Caleb

Yes,” I said when her text came through, maybe a little too enthusiastically, but what the fuck did I care? I owned the company, and Brooke had just given me her number.

Victoria stopped her rundown of my schedule and looked up from her notes curiously.

“I need to make a call—we’ll finish after lunch,” I told her, knowing she understood what I really meant. Which was, “get out and give me privacy.” Victoria Blakney was no dummy, and that was why she was my PA. She was also my best friend’s little sister and the perfect candidate for the job as my personal assistant. I’d known her since she was a toddler, and she knew the world in which I moved as well as or better than I did. Since it was the same world for her.

“The red peonies?” she asked as she got up from her chair.

“Maybe.” I added Brooke into my contacts and ignored Victoria.

“Thought so.” I could hear the smirk in her voice as she went out, closing my door with a soft click.

I hovered my finger over Brooke’s number for just an instant, realizing I was making a conscious decision to pursue her. So much for my vow to swear off women for a while. There was something about her I couldn’t turn away from. I had to know more.

My finger tapped the green circle.

It rang five times before she picked up, and with each ring I think my grip on the phone grew a little tighter.

“Hello, is this Caleb calling?” Ahhhh . . . that voice of hers had power . . . over me. She spoke and for some reason I lost the ability to speak. It was insane.

“Yes, Brooke, it is.”