Heart of the Billionaire (Taming The Bad Boy Billionaire 7)

The quick back-and-forth came to a sudden pause as my fear momentarily lifted and I stared steadily back. For a moment, it was easy to forget that the matriarch of the Cross family was a terrifying kidnapper who’d already fled the country into international waters. For a moment, it was easy to see her for what she really was: a concerned grandmother, an old woman who would easily move heaven and Earth for James, someone who loved him just as much as I did. “I love him,” I said, without any need for hesitation or any sort of clever reply. I just looked her right in the eyes and told the truth. “I think I’ve loved him a lot longer than I realized, but now I know I love him more than anything in this world.”

The magazine came down, and Abby stared at me with watery eyes.

Even Granny was moved, as moved as a stone-faced woman like her could be, but rather than cracking a smile, she simply nodded in curt acknowledgment before leaning forward once more. “If that’s true, how do you feel about the press conference he tried to call this morning?”

The tension lifted for a moment, and I bowed my head and let out a weary sigh. “Ma’am, when I first realized he felt the need to choose between us, his business and me, I volunteered to go. That company is James’s birthright, the life work of his father, a great man. Never in my wildest dreams would I want to do anything to take that away from him or him away from Cross. I adore the company as much as I adore your grandson. It’s why I came here, and I work there myself.”

“As a secretary?”

“As a junior-level associate,” I replied, with a little more venom in my voice than I really intended.

My face whitened even more as the words fired between us, but Granny didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to appreciate the fact that I had a little bite in me as well, something she could relate to. Her lips pulled up in a withered smile before she climbed out of her chair and sat down in the one next to mine. “My dear, I think you and I are going to be good friends.”

Chapter 15

AS IT TURNED OUT, THE island really was a privately owned tropical paradise somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean. The plane landed on pontoons in the water, and Granny stepped onto the dock like a queen, only to be immediately attended by a crowd of willing subjects. Abby and I were quick to follow, and we slid on massive sunglasses to protect our eyes from the bright sun as our significant others were carried behind us with the luggage. From there, we were all loaded into little golf carts, and we sped across the silky grass in a blur.

I gazed up at the palm trees and smiled as we neared the compound. Until that very moment, I had never been anywhere tropical before. I was most certainly the only one, so I kept my smiles to myself as we rolled under an arch of flowers and onto a paved driveway.

“Why is there a hotel on the island?” I murmured to Abby as we hurled around a curve and came to a stop in front of the double-doors. “Doesn’t this all belong to Granny?”

She patted me on the knee and flashed a sympathetic smile before she hopped out and picked up her purse. “It’s not a hotel. This is Granny’s house.”

My mouth fell open as I stared up at the colossus before me. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Nope,” she said with a grin.

Never would I have imagined that the enormous building could possibly be a private residence. It looked like one of the giant villas where celebrities summered, the kind that always made me stab my spoon a little harder into my Rocky Road as I browsed the internet from the meager inadequacy of my own bedroom. The walls were white, Spanish tile covered the roof, and splashes of bright pink bougainvillea swirled in patterns at every turn. Just from where I stood, I could see a tennis court, a helicopter pad, a labyrinth of greenery in the garden, and a swimming

pool so enormous that even James would look like a minnow in it. A giant fountain splashed merrily in the center of the courtyard, and the second my foot touched the pavement, the aroma of exotic flowers washed over me, coupled with the bitter scent of English tea.

“Darjeeling or Earl Grey?” Granny inquired as a man in a butler’s uniform appeared out of nowhere with a silver tray. “If you prefer, Herbert can bring something...less civilized, to pay homage to your American roots. We even have Dr. Pepper here, as well as that awful blue Alligatorade, which James loves for some reason.”

“It’s just Gatorade,” I gently corrected, then flashed a quick smile and glanced back to where James was being carried up the hall. “Actually, I’d like to get settled in. I want to be there when he wakes up.”

Abby raised her eyebrows and turned back to the tea as Granny muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s your funeral,” then smiled at me in return. “Dinner’s at seven, dear. Don’t be late,” she said more audibly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, and I meant that literally, because nothing on Earth could convince me to keep that woman waiting.

Resisting the strong urge to curtsey, I backed away, gave a little parade-style Miss America wave, then raced down the corridor after James. He was just being laid gently across the bed when I rounded the corner into the room, thanks to two stoic-looking gentlemen who subsequently vanished without a word.

I quickly shut the door behind them, then turned back to the bed, unsure what to do. “James,” I whispered, giving his leg a gentle shake. “James, wake up.”

There was no response, not even a snore.

“Honey,” I tried again, shaking a bit harder this time, “your grandmother drugged you, and we took a little trip. You’ve gotta open your eyes now, baby. I think I’m in over my head here.”

Still, he didn’t move.

A brilliant idea struck me, and I stepped quickly out of my dress and stood naked before him. “C’mon, James. I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing, and I’m ready for you.”

Again, he just lay there, like a cold, dead fish.

“Okay, fine. Stay asleep then,” I said in a huff, realizing that all I could do was wait for him to snap out of it.

Fortunately, Granny’s cocktail wore off soon, and just a few seconds after I climbed back into my dress and settled beside him on the bed, there was a slight hitch in his breathing. His hands flexed tentatively on the sheets beneath us, and a second later, his eyes fluttered open for good. He looked around for a moment, dazed and disoriented, before his roving eyes came to rest on me. “Della?”

I winced apologetically and gestured to a tray someone had left on the bedside table. “Tea time, love,” I said in my best British accent, which wasn’t very good at all. “Darjeeling or Earl Grey?”