Page 76 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

“Dr. Swan,” I said formally, extending my hand toward my office. “You wanted to see me. Let’s go into my office.”

I led her to my office, then closed the door behind us. “Now, let’s hear what brings you in, Dr. Swan,” I drawled. “Considering your parting words the last two times we crossed paths, I’m guessing you’re not here to see how I’m doing.”

“Don’t be a dick, Byron,” she snapped, annoyed. That same blaze of fire when we first met in exam room number five returned to her eyes, and my dick throbbed painfully. Jesus Christ, how was I supposed to go through with my plan if every move by her gave me a full-blown erection? Then, as if she realized she made a mistake, her shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”

She wasn’t sorry, but she was desperate. There was a quiet confidence in her hazel eyes, but also something else. Panic. Dark circles under her beautiful eyes attested to her fatigue. And those damn bruises… I could strangle whoever gave them to her with my bare hands.

“Sit down.” She hesitated, then took a seat as I took my own behind the desk. “How have you been, Odette?”

Truthfully, I wanted to demand the list of every man who had touched her in the past six years, so I could hunt them down and kill them. No woman—aside from my family—had ever brought out this possessive side of me.

“Fine.” She chewed on her bottom lip; then, as if realizing her manners, she added, “You?”

I hated small talk, yet here I was. It was like when she came around, all I wanted to do was cuddle her and protect her. I’d always been protective of my family, but with her it flared tenfold. And now that I knew she had a son—our son—it amplified even more.

I still couldn’t believe our baby survived. I was planning on finding that fucking doctor who told me Odette lost the baby and dragging the truth out of her. Why had she lied to me?

“Fine.” My eyes glued to her, I studied every inch of her face. Those faded bruises had my fists clenching and every fiber of me itched to go hunting for the culprit. “Who touched you?” I growled, unable to keep a rough edge to my tone.

A light blush crawled up her neck marred with faded bruising and colored her cheeks. She tucked a lock of her red hair behind her ear. She could wear rags, be a hundred years old, and she’d still be breathtaking.

“It doesn’t matter.” It was clear she wasn’t into small talk either. She straightened in the seat, her spine rigid. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here, Dr. Swan?”

She took her bottom lip between her teeth, a hint of fear creeping into her eyes. She took a deep breath, then exhaled. “I need your help.” She gulped, twisting her hands in her lap.

“What kind of help?” I prompted when she didn’t continue. Something so raw flashed in her eyes, it punched me right in my gut. It gutted my soul and sent anger rushing through me. The young, carefree woman was gone. In its place was a different woman. Still mine, but different.

“While in Ghana last year, we ran into some trouble.” Her voice was faint and raspy, the hint of desperation bleeding into her expression.

“What kind of trouble?” I asked softly.

She blinked, clearing her throat and straightening her back. I watched her neck bob as she swallowed.

“We left Ghana with something that didn’t belong to us.”

It wasn’t hard to guess. “Diamonds.”

She nodded. “Yes, and now these criminals have been after us for months. Back in New Orleans, we returned them, but now they’re demanding interest.” She was squeezing her hands so tightly, her knuckles were turning white.

I leaned in and rested my elbows on the desk. The thought of my son in danger had my blood simmering, but I hid it behind my mask. I’d hide it all until I had her exactly where she needed to be.

“What do they want, Dr. Swan?”

She met my gaze, and a hint of that fearless young woman was deep in those hazel depths.

I watched her neck bob as she swallowed. The name fit her so fucking right. She was graceful and delicate, just like a swan. Everything about her just pulled you in and refused to let go.

“Please, Byron, I’ll do anything—” Her voice broke and a single tear rolled down her face. Fuck, it tore at my heart, shredding it to pieces. And she’d already shredded it once.

“What do they want?” I repeated, my voice calm and even. She didn’t need to know that I’d give her anything. Fucking anything! As long as she stayed with me. Odette, my son, and I. We’d be a family—just like the one she had.

She let out a heavy sigh, her long lashes wet.

“A million dollars,” she breathed, her cheeks turning crimson. “I know it’s a lot. I’ll do whatever. Anything,” she added quickly.

If she only knew I’d give her ten million, easy. As long as she promised to be mine.