Page 5 of Beauty and the Billionaire

“Foul?” I asked. “You wound me. I would never slip it from behind without giving you a chance to fight back. Any fool would have done their due diligence, Blake. I believe that covers it for tonight. I will see you in my new conference room at nine in the morning. I believe you have the address.”

“You’ll never get inside the building,” Julian growled.

“Remind me who is on security. Rogers?” I asked.

Julian was hesitant for a moment. “That’s right,” he muttered.

“Rogers is fired,” I said. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

I disconnected from the call and stared at the screen of my laptop. I had hoped for more, although I couldn’t tell what. Perhaps I had hoped all three of them would have imploded with devastation and disappointment. Perhaps I had hoped for their heads to fall off with grief. I had just taken their biggest sandbox, their favorite toy. They had managed the investments well enough to get plenty for themselves. Corporate jets, extended trips to exotic locations, and lavish parties on company tabs were just the tip of the iceberg.

They fully understood that I intended to force the sale of the remaining shares once my people occupied the board seats. The three assholes would be well awarded, but the stain would follow them forever. No price was too high for that, and I would make them an offer glazed in honey and cocaine and whatever else they would drool over.

I shut the lid of my laptop and sank back into my chair.

Fuck them.

I only wished I could see them inform their rich families of their failure to keep the control of the company in their hands. One by one, I would get them all. When they owned little morethan thick bank accounts, I would send them to hell with probes of all kinds. Nobody was that rich for that long without breaking some rules. I knew that firsthand.

If only I could feel a bit more satisfied, dammit. I earned that much, didn’t I?

The knock on my door reminded me that somebody was waiting for me. I held my breath and wondered who on earth needed me this late. Had someone died? I couldn’t recall anyone whose death would have concerned me. But Orwell appeared at the door, and I sighed.

“Bring them in,” I said.

I had no idea how entertaining this evening would get.

CHAPTER 2

The Midnight Visitor

Dominic

The city lightsglimmered like a million distant candles. Every window, every streetlamp, every car emitted their brightness and warmth. People lived their lives from one day to the next in this big pile of concrete and disappointments.

I turned away from the glass walls of the top floor of my penthouse, turning my back to the city and its lights. I preferred the dimness of my office, its dark brown tones, discreet lamps and their soft, noninvasive glow, and the silence that filled the room.

Footsteps treaded along the hallway outside, and the door slowly opened. Orwell held his head high as if he was escorting a member of the royal family, but when he moved aside to let the young prince pass, it wasn’t a prince at all but a grocery salesboy with a bright orange beanie and cheeks pink with cold.

“Thank you, Orwell,” I said, holding back the note of surprise. “You can leave us.”

Orwell did so without another word. The door shut behind Zain, who stiffened at the sound, possibly holding himself against jumping. He looked at me with a sullen expression I hadgrown used to seeing on people.Good, I decided.I don’t need you to like me.

My gaze traveled down the length of Zain’s black coat and dark jeans, stopping on his sporty sneakers and returning to his face. His high cheekbones complemented his face. Long lashes framed his chocolate eyes, and black eyebrows lay flat over them for a look of pure contempt.

“I’ll admit I’m a little surprised to see you,” I said, my voice deep and velvety. “What do you want?”

His lower lip quivered momentarily, and he clenched his teeth, the muscles in his face tightening. He lifted a hand that held a phone, the screen bright and filled with images of children. Some included Zain; most included his mother and father. There was a girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen and two younger boys. “I want you to see my father’s children.”

My gaze landed on the screen again, then at his petulant face. “Consider them seen.”

“Whatever you want from my father, remember that these kids will pay the price,” he said in a tight voice. It was surprising to hear the anger there since his voice had been so soft and smooth this morning.

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms on my chest. “What exactly do you think I want from your father?”

Zain licked his lips nervously. I noticed then just how much it cost him to be here. He kept the phone up and between us, the images open on the screen. “Money,” he said, a hint of a question mark appeared at the edge of that word. “For whatever reason,” he added hastily.

“What? Like forprotection?” I asked, unable to keep the sneer away.

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