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

She watched him with a patient smile, looking like a grandmother for the first time. “Hardly matters now, does it?”

There was a clattering of glass as he threw out an arm for balance and caught the counter just before crumbling to his knees. I leapt forward with a shriek, hoping to stop him from falling, but neither of them paid me any mind; they were too immersed in their own unfathomable little war, and one of them was about to be a casualty.

“What the...” James broke off with a gasp and pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead, turning several shades of green, like a boy caught on a carousel that was going far too fast. “You can’t just...” Then, before he could finish, he slumped lifelessly onto the floor.

Granny stepped triumphantly over him and waved a tiny bottle in the air before slipping it back into her bag. “Oh, I think you’ll find I can, dear,” she said, then turned her eyes on me. “What about you, love? Do you intend to come quietly, or shall I mix you a drink as well?”

ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES later, I was cruising at 40,000 feet, seriously contemplating the charges of aiding and abetting for the first time in my life. My bags were packed, my dress impeccably selected, and I was sitting on my very first private plane ride, not at all enjoying myself as a hostage in luxury. Don’t be scared, Della, I told myself. At least you’re luckier than James. At least you’re sitting!

James wasn’t so fortunate, but Granny’s nonchalance as she marched ahead of the four men who carried him was a testament to the fact that her workers were loyal to her. No workers in the empty lobby even bothered to look up, and the doorman just smiled a

nd stepped aside. Well paid off, I’m sure. She paraded by the staff like a general gone mad, and she even had the audacity to offer me a complimentary breath mint. Granny’s minions played it off like the two men were drunk and no pedestrians looked twice as Nick and James were loaded into the limousine like sacks of potatoes.

James and Nick? Why? I wondered as we headed to the airstrip.

As if kidnapping her own grandson wasn’t enough, dear ol’ Granny had decided to abduct his bestie as well, even though he was her mole in the first place. Nick must’ve told her no about going to the island and she wasn’t having any of that. Now, Nick was practically spooning on the floor of the plane beside James, courtesy of a taste of Granny’s medicine that was poured into their drinks. I still had no idea how Abby felt about it, but I was too scared to ask.

After a while, my courage built enough for me to whisper under my breath, “So is this, uh...safe?” I made sure to keep my eyes locked on the old woman the whole time. “I mean, has this happened before?”

“This is the craziest thing Granny has ever done,” Abby replied. “And she’s pulled some pretty crazy stunts over the years.” While her husband lay prone on the floor, she happily sipped a mimosa and peered through the window down at the sparkling water below, as if we were all headed to some tropical paradise for a dream vacation. When she realized I wasn’t entirely convinced, she leaned closer. “Three of her nine husbands died, you know,” she said in a whisper of her own.

“I can hear you, Abigail,” a crackling voice rang out as Granny fixed her terrifying sights on us. “If you find sedation so laughable, I can only advise you to keep sipping that cocktail. We’ll land on the island before you know it.”

Abby set down the mimosa and shivered.

“Now, as for you, Della,” the old woman said, turning her unwanted attention on me. “What kind of name is that anyway? It sounds like an airline, dear.”

“I think you’re thinking of Delta, Granny,” Abby interjected.

“And I think I wasn’t speaking to you,” Granny said, never taking her eyes off me.

I gulped and sat up a little straighter. “It’s actually short for Delilah, Delilah Katherine Jones.” I would have provided my Social Security number as well, but I had the sneaking suspicion she already knew it, as well as my blood type and the name of my first household pet, my third-grade teacher, and the date when I started my period. Nick knew I was from Kentucky, but I was relatively certain Granny knew far more than that.

“Delilah?” She harrumphed loudly. “Biblical,” she said, followed by another harrumph. “A beautiful woman who destroyed one of the world’s strongest men. Fitting, wouldn’t you say?”

My complexion instantly matched the pale color of the plane, and I couldn’t think of a thing to say to that.

Abby leaned graciously and bravely forward to speak on my behalf. “Now, Granny, that’s not really fair. Della’s been fighting against this as much as the rest of us, and she—”

“Silence!”

Abby retreated behind her magazine without another word, mouthing silent words of encouragement over the top before she disappeared entirely and shuddered in her seat.

I picked up my drink but feared what lurked inside the glass. I glanced toward the exits but suddenly remembered we were thousands of feet in the air. In the end, all I could do was sit there as the fearsome woman looked me up and down.

Finally, when she’d had her fill, she barked out three simple questions, her litmus test for anyone allowed in the inner circle, with a delivery like that of the Queen of Spades come to life. “How do you feel about corgis?” she started.

That’s a dog, right?

As if she could read my mind, Abby nodded at me sharply.

“Oh, I love all dogs,” I said with a sheepish smile.

Granny nodded suspiciously, then fired her second missile. “What about the Revolutionary War?”

“Damn those colonists straight to hell!”

“Well said,” she replied, then moved on to the third and final question. The stakes had never been higher, and Granny had never looked more serious as she leaned across the aisle to ask, “And, far more importantly than flea-catchers and pissing contests, love, how do you feel about my grandson?”