Page 6 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

She didn’t answer as I watched her pull a container down from a shelf in my periphery, the lid clanking against the countertop filling the silence soon after. The sexy med student gloved up her hands as the fresh scent of crisp apples seeped into my lungs. Somehow, I knew she would smell fucking delectable.

Next, her fingers came softly to my back, sending a shudder through me that had nothing to do with the cool gel. I hated anyone touching my back and couldn’t remember the last time anyone had even come close to it.

“Weren’t you leaving for the day?” I attempted again. For some stupid reason, I wanted to hear her husky, soothing voice.If my brothers could see me now. Usually, I complained about people that constantly yapped, yet here I was chitchatting like some neglected grandma.

“Mhmm. I’m just going to finish you off,” she stated calmly, her movements never ceasing. “Then I’m out of here.”

I glanced over my shoulder, catching her expression when our gazes met. Her mouth parted. Her cheeks turned crimson, the meaning of her own words sinking in.

“Nothing would make me happier than you finishing me off.”

Her cheeks flushed. The golden hue in her eyes glimmered, but she scoffed, choosing not to answer.

However, the look she gave me told me she had plenty to say.

* * *

I sat in my office on the main deck of my yacht, all the windows and doors opened. I came to the French Riviera to chase a lead on a potential acquisition with Winston.

The Ashford businesses expanded into many branches, but our weakness was in luxury brands, and jewelry designing had sounded promising. My brother entertained the idea of buying small jewelry stores in prime locations and turning them into Ashford Diamonds. After this weekend, though, I’d ensure we never ventured into it, no matter how intriguing the prospect of it was. Dealing with the designers was like speaking in an alien tongue. When inquiring about their portfolios and financials, the answers seemed to change. All the damn time. I had no patience for their bullshit.

Winston disagreed. Not vocally, but I knew my brother well enough to understand his body language. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I learned he ventured into the business after all.

The loud buzz of an alarm cut through the silence, immediately followed by a string of curses.

“Turn that fucking thing off.” Winston’s booming voice competed with the shrill alarm.

I shook my head. He really had to get his shit in order. He was barely two years younger than me, yet he whored himself around like every woman was the last piece of pussy he’d ever get.

“Byron, turn the alarm off!” he bellowed, loudly enough for the entire French Riviera to hear him. I ignored him. He’d eventually figure out it was his own alarm clock.

The afternoon sun slanted across the Riviera, the scent of the sea wafting through the air. The sound of the waves crashing against the boat should’ve been soothing, yet I couldn’t find peace.

It was fucking ironic. I was one of the richest men in the world, yet I couldn’t even enjoy the fruits of my labor, nor my billionaire status. Like the fact that I had a yacht but I couldn’t lie out on the deck for fear of sun exposure on my scarred back.

I still remembered that nurse who treated my war wounds after my skin had pretty much melted. She had red hair—ironically kind of like the young med student I met today—and she cringed whenever she had to change my bandages. Nothing fucked with your self-esteem like that. No amount of money, wealth, or power could erase shitty feelings like those.

My mind drifted to the past. That near-fatal day.

Sweat trickled down my forehead as bullets flew all around. We were out in the open, exposed and vulnerable to the enemy. It was a fucking trap, and we were getting attacked from all sides.

Death surrounded me. Flames burned the compound. The stench of chemicals, gunpowder, and blood filled the air, invading my lungs.

River, Astor, and Darius, who weren’t part of the Navy and usually flew Black Hawks, shouted a warning. I bet they regretted their decision to take patrol duty today.

I saw it too late. A loud explosion shook the earth while blinding pain burst through me. My knees gave out. My ears buzzed and I shook my head, trying to clear the loud ringing in my ears.

Sharp pain shot through me. The stench of burning flesh filled my nostrils and took me way too many heartbeats to realize it was my own flesh that burned.

Three men surrounded me. I stared death in the eyes, but I was going to go down fighting. Ignoring the blinding pain that tore through me, I reached for the gun that lay next to me. I aimed to kill. Bang. Bang.

Kristoff, my commander and good friend, killed one guy. I killed the second. We both shot the third.

Kristoff reached for me, and I knew by the look in his eyes that it was bad.

“Fuck,” he grunted, lowering himself onto his knees.

“I don’t think I’ll get out of this one,” I gritted. Even talking hurt like a motherfucker.