Page 521 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Of course, he’d say that. Nate’s always been a numbers whiz.

I heard that from Ben. It’s why, even when they were in the navy together, Nate was quickly put in charge of strategy.

He was the person coming up with the game plan, while Ben was always on the front lines.

And Nate’s sharp brain helped him always stay ahead of the enemy.

He saved Ben’s life many times, or so my brother informed me over the years.

Too bad, his best friend’s temperament leaves much to be desired.

“I would be willing to consider a merger instead of an acquisition of your little business.” His gaze flicks about the place and back at me.

“Little business?” I curl my fingers into fists. Breathe, count back from ten. Do not give into the impulsive need to throw a pie in his face.

He wipes his thumb under his lip, a considering look in his eyes. “Of course, I don’t have to do anything. But given you’re Ben’s little sister, and he wouldn’t want me to leave you in the lurch, I might have a proposition that could help both of us.”

“Of course, you do.”

My sarcasm is lost on him, for he looks me up and down. “Marry me.”

To find out what happens next read Nathan and Skylar’s story HERE

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Read an excerpt

Edward

"I have taken a vow." I step back from her. "I have promised to live a celibate life. I have completely given my life to Christ and the people I have been called to serve."

I turn away from her, head for the clothes that I’d placed on the pool-chair.

The hair on the nape of my neck prickles.

I glance over my shoulder to find her staring at me. Her gaze runs down my back, then back to my face, as I snatch up my shirt and shrug into it.

"I… I don’t understand."

"Me neither." I grab my towel, then head for the guesthouse that I occupy whenever I stay over at the Sterlings’, which isn’t often.

But when I’d wanted to leave yesterday, the rest of the Seven wouldn’t hear of it.

With Arpad getting married, it means all of us are now hitched…

Well, except me… And Baron. I stiffen. Why the hell am I thinking of him?

The friend who’d turned his back on us and left.

Not that he hasn’t been in touch. He’s communicated through snail mail, writing on occasion, like when Damian was hesitant about getting married to Julia.

Or when there is a specific investment that Sinner or Saint aren’t sure about, though how he knows this is beyond me.

The two of them run 7A Investments, one of the leading financial services firms in the country.

Between them, they’ve managed to invest our money such that we’ll be living off the wealth created for this entire lifetime.

Not that I am going to touch a penny of it.

My investments go toward FOK Media, aka Full of Kindness Media, the non-profit that the Seven set up to finance upcoming talent in return for a portion of their earnings. I’d also put money toward my own trust that supports the most vulnerable and those in need.

As for myself, I stay in a small two-bedroom home, owned by the parish I am devoted to serving.

The place where I need to return before things get further out of hand.

It had been wrong to approach her in the first place.

I’d seen her watching me, had recognized her— Of course, I had.

I couldn’t have missed her—and then I had approached her.

I should have walked away, but I couldn’t resist. I had to see her once more.

And now I have to atone for the sinful thoughts I entertained.

I clench my fists at my sides.

"Wait." Her footsteps approach me, and I increase my pace.

I cannot be alone with her, not for one more second.

"What are you trying to tell me, Edward?"

I reach the guesthouse, twist open the door and step in. I turn to find her hesitating at the entrance and beckon her in.

She hesitates and I tilt my head. "Come on, I have something to show you."

"You do?" Her forehead furrows.

"You need to see this."

She blows out a breath and follows me. I head inside, to the bedroom, take my collar from where I’d placed it on the bedstead. I slip it on, then turn to find her poised at the doorway.

Her face pales; her jaw drops.

"You’re a…a—"

"Priest." I nod.

"B…but," she opens and shuts her mouth, "you weren’t wearing a collar at the wedding yesterday."

"I’m a diocesan priest. I wear the collar when I have anything pastoral to do. I don't usually wear it when out with friends."

"I see." She shrugs off her blanket, folds it over her arm.

Her gaze skitters away. "I knew it was too good to be true.

Of course, it is." She retreats into the living room, drops the blanket and her book on the couch and begins to pace. "I mean, just once, things couldn’t be easy for me, right? Everything has to be complicated. Just this once, couldn’t things have worked out the way they do for everyone else?

Of course, not." She throws up her hands. "This is not fair, not fair at all."

"Are you…" I follow her as she stomps back-forth-back, across the length of the floor of the living room. "Are you talking to yourself?"

"Shh.” She turns to me and frowns. "I’m trying to figure this out."

"By talking aloud?"

"Hey, don’t mock it until you try it. Did you know talking to yourself helps you organize your thoughts?" She shoves her purple-tipped hair back from her face.

Who dyes their hair purple? Ava does, that's who.

"According to psychologists, talking out loud to yourself helps you clarify your thoughts," she mumbles. "It helps to figure out what's important, and firm up any decisions you're contemplating."

"Ah," I allow my lips to tip up, "and what decision are you contemplating right now?"

She flushes. "I am not sure you want to know."

"Don’t I?"

She shakes her head. "I don’t think it’s right for me to share what I am thinking with a priest…

Not unless I was in confession, but then, wouldn’t you have to keep it secret?

I mean, aren’t you bound by a code of conduct of some kind?

And damn, but I admit, I may have eyed you up a little out there earlier.

Does that even count as sin? Is it made worse by the fact that you are priest? Is it—"

"Stop." I hold up my hand.

She purses her lips together, then draws in a breath. "Sorry," she mutters, "I tend to babble when I’m nervous."

"I didn’t notice." I allow my smile to widen. This girl—she’s adorable. She twists her fingers together, hunches her shoulders, then snaps them back. "Uh, guess I should...go then?"

She turns to leave, and something hot stabs at my chest. Okay, so I can’t have any kind of relationship with her…

What the—? How had I even allowed myself to think that?

Since becoming an ordained priest eight years ago, I’ve focused on my role, the routine, the discipline.

The simplicity of my existence means everything to me.

It helps me ground my thoughts, allows me to focus on what is important: serving others, helping them, listening to them, and helping to alleviate their worries.

In their comfort, I draw comfort. By easing their pain, I breathe easier. When I help a soul cross over, a part of me opens up to possibilities, and when I baptize a newborn, look into their clear eyes and welcome them to the house of the Lord, I redeem myself.

That… The regiment of how I live my life, gives me the framework upon which to anchor myself.

When I am in that space, I don’t have to worry about what happened to me, how the incident affected me, how I had fallen apart after the kidnapping, when the Seven and I had been taken and held in captivity for a month; how I had pulled myself together, only to fall apart again.

Boys join the army to learn discipline… For me, it had been the calling from God that had saved me. And surely, it is God who sent this girl, this absolutely stunning, untainted-by-life soul to me.

Or is it the devil trying to lure me away from Him?

No, not possible. I shake my head. This... It doesn't feel wrong. There's nothing unnatural about what I feel for her. Surely, it has to be the Lord wanting me to learn something from her? That's why he sent her.

What is this test that I am facing? And do I have the courage to go through with it?

Can I rise to the occasion; face the fears that her proximity evokes in me?

And if I don’t—if I chose not to accept this ultimate trial… Would that not mean that I have learned nothing from all the time I have spent in serving the Lord?

If this is his way of testing me... And surely, it has to be. There could be no other explanation for why, out of everything I’ve encountered thus far, she stands out like a beacon…

The air around her crackles with a vitality, a strange sensation… Almost one of hope, of life, of joy… Emotions I’ve seen amongst my parishioners, that I have studied from afar, even joined them in celebrating… But never once, experienced personally. Not until now.

Is this why you sent her my way, my Lord? Is it a sign that I need to open myself further, allow the emotions in, sense their sting, revel in how they torture me with everything that I cannot and will not allow myself to feel? So be it, then. I follow your command.

"Ava," I call out as she opens the door, "wait."

Ava

His voice stops me. I pause at the threshold.

"Ava."

I turn, wait for him to speak.

"I …" He shoves his hands inside his pockets. "I’m sorry," he finally says.

"For what?"

"For giving you the wrong impression earlier." He stares at me. "Perhaps some of the fault is with me too."