Page 49 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

My expression softened as I looked down at my son. Big blue eyes. Dark hair. My heart swelled with pride. At five, he knew how to flatter and capture hearts. He’d break hearts one day,even with his seriousness. My little boy was five going on ten.

“Only because I wore heels,” Billie drawled, smiling softly.

I rolled my eyes. It was best not to comment on it, or it might turn into a full-blown discussion. Ares was the apple of my eye. Billie’s too. The years had been difficult but worth all the hardship. It was the three of us. The three musketeers.

Unfortunately, we were in New Orleans instead of the French Riviera. But we’d be there soon enough. I could hardly wait until we were back home.

Elegant historic buildings surrounded us. A trumpeter played nearby, his sad tunes traveling over the breeze. The sweet, sticky smell of alcohol drifted through the air. Crowds of people meandered the streets, their laughter, dancing, and colorful clothing giving this city the vibrancy it was known for. Mardi Gras was about to be in full swing, although judging by the crowds all around us, you’d think it was happening now.

“There it is.” Billie pointed and I followed her finger to the sign. St. Louis Street.

I lowered to a crouch, bringing my eyes to my son’s level. “Ares, when we go into this restaurant, you’ll go with Aunt Billie while I deal with some work stuff. Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

My son was used to my work. Except this time, it wasn’t the normal work stuff that pulled me away. It was the accidental stealing of diamonds. By my sister. Big emphasis onaccidental, which was still up for debate.

“Good boy,” I murmured, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t worry, Maman,” Billie chimed in. “Everything will be over soon.”

I swallowed hard, my heart trembling in my chest. My biggest fear was something happening to him. I knew I’d never be able to forgive myself if Ares ended up hurt because of her or my own stupidity.

Straightening up, I met my sister’s eyes. “Follow the plan, Billie. Do not deviate from it. No matter what. And if something happens to—”

“Don’t say it,” she cut me off. “It’s bad luck.”

I closed my eyes, praying for patience. I wanted to snap at her and tell her bad luck was stealing from criminals. Instead, I just stepped onto the sidewalk that was thankfully paved.

“Keep him glued to you,” I said in a quiet voice. “And keep out of sight.” She nodded. I loved my sister. The past five years of my son’s happiness had been possible thanks to her sacrifices. This was the least I owed to her. I had to get us out of this mess.

I extended my hand and she reached out into her purse, pulling out a small, black velvet bag.

Ten million dollars in such a tiny package. It was enough to turn our life upside down.

I took it and shoved it into my own purse. We made our way down to the corner of St. Louis Street, stopping right at the entrance of The Sazerac Bar.

Billie picked up Ares, our gazes locking. She knew I was mad. She knew she fucked up. But until this was fixed, we couldn’t exactly move on. The organized crime syndicate wouldn’t let us live as long as we had those diamonds.

I just hoped once we returned the stolen goods, they’d forget about us. Although, my sixth sense warned me I was delusional. My gut revolted.

We entered the restaurant and I silently cursed myself. Billie was dressed appropriately for it. Me, not so much. My jean shorts, white quarter-sleeve shirt, and white ballet flats were too casual for this place.

Fuck!Why didn’t criminals specify a dress code?

My eyes traveled over the expansive room. It had the ambiance of old New Orleans with walls painted in deep colors and decorated with old photographs. The sounds of the trumpeter carried through the large open windows. A crystal chandelier dominated the room.

“Hello.” A hostess greeted us with a wide smile. “Do you have a reservation?”

Billie and I shared a glance. “Yes,” I croaked. “Blood Diamond.”

Those fuckers!

To the hostess’s credit, she didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Right this way.”

We made our way through the space, bypassing tables and booths, when the hostess paused. I turned to Billie, giving her a nod. It was her time to disappear into the bathroom and hide there with Ares.

“Billie?” A vaguely familiar voice came from behind us. “Billie Swan.”