The Billionaire's Bargain (Blackout Billionaires Book 1) Read online

  His admission echoed inside him like a clanging church bell. He’d never voiced those words aloud. Didn’t want to admit that his disastrous marriage continued to affect his life years after it had ended. Thank God he hadn’t been so lovestruck that he’d forgone a prenup. He wouldn’t have put it past Faith to try to clean him out just from spitefulness.

  “Why?” Isobel asked, her voice gentle but strong. “You made a mistake. It doesn’t make you a failure. Just human. Like all of us mortals. Wanting to believe in a person, wanting to believe in love, doesn’t reflect on your intelligence or lack of it. It speaks volumes about your integrity, your honor, your heart. Just because that other person didn’t have the character or dignity to respect their vows, to cherish and protect your heart, doesn’t mean you’re a fool or a disappointment. She didn’t respect your relationship, you or herself. That’s her sin, not yours. But, Darius,” she turned to him, and he shifted his gaze back to her. “It’s your decision, but you should forgive her, let it go.”

  He frowned. “I have forgiven her, and obviously I’ve moved on. I’m not pining for her.” Hell no. That bridge had not only been burned, but the ashes spread.

  “No, you haven’t,” she objected. “Forgiveness isn’t just about cutting someone off or entering new relationships. It’s deciding not to allow that person or that experience to shape your decisions, your life. It’s not giving that person power over you even though they’re long gone. And when your choices, your views, are influenced by past hurt, then those betrayals do have power over you.” Her mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “I should know. I’ve fought this battle for two years. But understand—this is what I’ve had to come to grips with—forgiveness isn’t saying what that person did was okay. It’s just choosing to no longer let that poison kill you.”

  “Who have you forgiven, Isobel?” he murmured, but his mind already whispered the answer to him.

  She didn’t immediately answer, but seconds later she sighed and dipped her head in a small nod.

  “Every day when I get up, I make the choice to forgive Gage. It’s a daily process of letting go of the pain and anger. Especially since he’s Aiden’s father. I refuse to taint that for him with my own bitterness. And I refuse to be held hostage by it. Gage isn’t here any longer. I’m never going to hear ‘I’m sorry’ from him. And even though Faith is very much alive, you most likely won’t receive an apology from her either. So, what do we do? Forgive ourselves for the guilt and blame that isn’t ours. But as long as we hold on to the past, we can never grab ahold of the future and all it has for us.”

  He stood still, her words sowing into his mind, his heart. By her definition, had he really released Faith, the past? He bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “What about wisdom, Isobel? Only a fool or a masochist doesn’t learn from his mistakes.”

  She slowly removed her hand from his and stepped back. He checked the urge to reach for her, to claim her touch again.

  “Wisdom is applying those lessons, Darius. It isn’t judging someone based on your own experiences. It isn’t allowing the past to blind you to the reality even when it’s staring you in the face.” She lifted her hands, palms up. “Today you walked in here and jumped to the conclusion that I was sneaking behind your back with another man. That I had brought him into your home like your ex-wife. It’s easier for you to be suspicious than to believe that maybe I’m not like her.”

  She inhaled and tilted her chin up, with defiance in the gesture, in the drawing back of her shoulders.

  “I did not cheat on Gage, Darius. I never betrayed him—he betrayed me. He was the cheater, not me.”

  Before he could object, question her accusation or deny it—maybe all three—she pivoted on her heel and exited the room. Minutes passed, and when she returned, he remained standing where she’d left him, too stunned by her revelation. Gage cheated? No. Impossible. He’d loved Isobel. Hell, sometimes it’d seemed he’d loved her to the point of obsession. He couldn’t, wouldn’t have, taken another woman to his bed. Not the man Darius had known.

  Did you really know him?

  The insidious question crept into his brain, leaving behind an oily trail of dread and doubt.

  “Here.” She extended a cell phone to him. He reached for it before his brain sent the message to ask why. “It’s my old phone, the one I had when I was married to Gage. I saved it for the pictures I’d taken of him for Aiden when he was older. But I want you to read this.”

  She pressed the screen and a stream of text messages filled the screen.

  From Gage.

  He tore his attention away from her solemn face to the phone.

  I should divorce you. Where would you be then? Back in that dirty hole I found you. It’s where you belong.

  You’ll never find someone better than me. No one would want you, anyway. I don’t even know why I bother with you either. You’re not good enough for me.

  Don’t bother waiting up for me. I’m fucking her tonight.

  And below that message, a picture of Gage maliciously smiling into the camera, his arm wrapped around a woman.

  Bile raced up from the pit of Darius’s stomach, scorching a path to his throat. He choked on it, and on the rage surging through him like a tidal wave. Swamping him. Dragging him under.

  She hadn’t deserved the kind of malevolent vitriol contained in those texts. No woman did. And that his friend, one of the most honorable, kindest men he’d ever known, had sent them to his wife... The woman he’d proclaimed to love beyond reason...

  Had Gage been that great of an actor? And to what end? The questions plagued him, drumming against his skull, not letting up. Because he needed answers. He needed to understand. His heart yearned to reject the idea that Gage could’ve been that spiteful...an abuser.

  “Tell me,” he rasped. “All of it.”

  After a long moment, her soft voice reached him.

  “I was twenty when we met. And he was handsome, charming, funny and, yes, wealthy. I didn’t—still don’t—understand why he chose me. And I didn’t care—I loved him. Becoming pregnant so soon after we married was a little scary, but seemed right. He’d started becoming a little moody and irritable a few months after we married, but soon after the baby arrived, and I refused the paternity test, he completely changed. I didn’t understand then, but now I see he hated being poor, regretted being cut off from his family and blamed me for it. Resented me. That’s when the isolation started. He needed to know where I went, who I was with. He decided my every move, from who I could spend time with to what I wore. Since I just wanted to please him, I gave in. But then I couldn’t see my family because they were a ‘bad influence.’ And if I spoke to a man for too long, or smiled at one, I was cheating. The little money I earned, and the money his parents started giving him, he controlled that, as well. If I needed anything—from personal hygiene items to new clothes for Aiden—he bought them, because he couldn’t trust me to spend wisely. I was trapped. A prisoner. And my husband was my warden.”

  “Why did you stay?” Darius asked, desperate to understand. To punch something. “Why didn’t you leave?”

  “Love,” she murmured. “At first, love kept me there. I foolishly believed it could conquer all. But then that fairy tale ended, and fear and insecurity stepped in. I’d left school, had no degree. A minimum wage job. At that point, the unknown seemed far more terrifying than the known. And I never stopped believing that if I learned the proper way to act and speak, if I could get Gage to love me again like he used to, everything would be okay. His family would love and accept me, too.” She shook her head, letting loose a hollow chuckle that bottomed out Darius’s stomach. “And I wanted our child to have a two-parent home like I didn’t. So I stayed longer than I should’ve. The night I told Gage I wanted a divorce is the night he...”

  Grief tore through Darius. And, still clutching the phone w
ith its offensive messages, he turned and stalked away from Isobel. His thigh clipped the edge of his desk, and he slammed his palms on the top of it, leaning all of his weight on his arms.

  It was a death.

  A death of his belief in a man he’d called brother. The demise of his view of him. Whom had Darius been defending all these years? How could he still love Gage...?

  Her arms slid around him. Her cheek pressed to his back.

  The comfort—the selfless comfort—nearly buckled his knees.

  “It’s okay to love him,” she murmured, damn near reading his mind. Her voice vibrated through him, and he shivered in her embrace. “A part of me still does. For the memory of the man I initially fell in love with, for the father of my son. With time and distance, and loving Aiden, who is a part of Gage, I can’t hate him. He was a man with faults, with issues and weaknesses. But he was also everything you remember him to be. A great, loyal friend. A loving son. A brother who would literally lay down his life for you. You can love those parts of him and dislike the parts that made him a horrible husband. There’s no guilt or betrayal in that, Darius.”

  He pushed off the desk, spun around and grabbed her close, closing his arms around her. Crushing her to him. As if she were his lifeline. His absolution.

  She clung to him just as tightly.

  “I have a confession,” she whispered against his chest.

  “Yes?” he asked, the word scratching his raw throat.

  “I never betrayed Gage, but...” She hesitated, tilted her head back. He lifted his gaze, meeting hers. She studied him for several long moments before dipping her head in a slight nod. “I noticed you, admired you. Somehow I instinctively knew you would never mistreat a woman. You were too honorable. And you’ve always been beautiful to me.”

  The soft admission reverberated in the room like a shout. He stared into her eyes—eyes that had captured his imagination and attention from the first glance.

  “Sweetheart,” he growled. It was all he got out before he cupped her face and crashed his mouth to hers. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t rein himself in if he’d wanted to.

  And he didn’t want to.

  The avalanche of emotion that had eddied inside him burst free in a storm of passion and need so sharp, so hungry that fighting it would’ve been futile.

  Her fingers curled around his wrists, holding on to him. Maybe designating him as her anchor as she, too, dove into the tempest. She leaned her head back, angled it and opened wider for him. Granting him permission to conquer, to claim more. More. Always more with her.

  He dragged his mouth from hers, and turning with Isobel clasped to him, swiped an arm across the surface of his desk, sending books, folders, the cell and his home phone tumbling to the floor. After grabbing her by the waist, he hiked her onto the desk, follow ing her down. Covering her. Impatient, with a desperation he didn’t want to acknowledge racing through him, he jerked her pants and underwear down her legs, baring her. Her trembling fingers already attacked his pants, undoing them while he removed his wallet and jerked a condom free. Within seconds, he sheathed himself and thrust inside her. His groan and her cry mingled, entwined together as tightly as their bodies.

  And as they lost themselves in each other, as he buried himself in her over and over, he forgot about everything but the pleasure of this woman.

  Of Isobel.

  And for those moments, it was enough.

  Thirteen

  Isobel leaned closer to the vanity mirror, applying mascara to her lashes. When the doorbell rang, echoing through the house, she almost stabbed herself in the eye.

  “Damn,” she whispered, replacing the makeup wand.

  It was Thanksgiving Day. Who could that possibly be?

  She glanced at the clock on her dresser. One o’clock. A loud holiday meal with her mother, brothers and plethora of aunts, uncles and cousins was set for three o’clock at her mom’s house. They were supposed to leave as soon as Darius returned from the store after a last-minute errand. For someone to show up uninvited on their doorstep on a holiday, it must be important.

  Quickly rushing down the hall to Aiden’s room, she leaned inside the doorway. “Ms. Jacobs, I’m going to get the door. But we should be ready to go in just a few.”

  The older woman smiled from where she played blocks with Aiden. “We’re fine until then, Ms. Hughes.”

  “Isobel,” she corrected, but the nanny just smiled and returned her attention to Aiden. Shaking her head and chuckling, she descended the steps. She’d been waging the war of getting Ms. Jacobs to call her Isobel, but to no avail. In the short time she’d known the woman, they had grown fond of each other. So much so, Ms. Jacobs was spending Thanksgiving with them since she didn’t have children of her own.

  It’d been Darius who had thought of that kindness.

  Darius.

  A spiral of warmth swirled through Isobel’s chest, landing in her belly.

  Ever since that evening a week ago, when he’d come home to find her with Ken and heard her full admission about Gage, a...connection had forged between them. One that, while tenuous, had her heart trembling with a cautious hope that what had started out as a marriage bargain between them might evolve into a real relationship. A relationship based on respect, admiration...trust.

  Love.

  The nervous snarls in her stomach loosened, bursting into flutters.

  There’d been a time—not too long ago—when she wouldn’t have believed herself capable of falling for another person. She hadn’t thought she could ever take the risk of trusting someone with not just her heart, but with Aiden’s.

  But here, only weeks later, she stood on the crumbling precipice of a plunge into something powerful and dangerous—love.

  And it was a beautiful, strong, loyal and fierce man who had her heart whispering with the need to take the fall.

  She was afraid. Even as a fragile hope beat its wings inside her, she was afraid.

  She reached the foyer and glanced out the window next to the door. Shock rocked through her.

  Helena and Gabriella.

  What...?

  As if on autopilot, Isobel unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Hello,” she greeted, surprised at the calmness in her voice. “Please come in.” As they passed by her and entered the house, she shut the door behind them. “Darius isn’t here at the moment...”

  “That’s fine. We can wait,” Helena said, turning to face Isobel with a coldly polite smile. “We apologize for showing up unannounced, but he told us you were having Thanksgiving dinner with your family. We wanted to catch him before you left.”

  Unease sidled through her veins, but she pasted a smile on her lips and waved a hand toward the living room. “He should be back shortly, if you’d like to wait for him in here.”

  Part of her wanted to run up the stairs and let Darius deal with his visitors when he returned, but at some point she had to become accustomed to being around them without Darius as a buffer. She could handle a few minutes.

  “You and Darius seem to be getting along well,” Helena commented as she moved into the room and settled on the couch.

  Isobel nodded, stalling as she considered how to answer. As if a physical trap waited to be sprung at the end of her reply. “Darius is a kind man.”

  Gabriella strode over to the mantel and studied the array of pictures there. “Yes, he is. It’s both a blessing and a curse,” she said. “Have you two set a wedding date yet?”

  Unease knotted Isobel’s stomach, at both the cryptic comment and the switch in topic. “Not a definite date,” she replied. But remembering the stipulations Darius had set in their contract, she added, “Sometime in January, I believe.”

  “You believe,” Helena echoed, and Isobel couldn’t miss the sneer in her words as her gaze flicked to Isobel’s left hand. “No ring yet, I see
. Doesn’t that tell you something, Isobel?”

  “No,” Isobel murmured, sensing the shift in the other woman’s demeanor and steeling herself. “But I suppose you have an idea about that.”

  “He hasn’t set a wedding date and hasn’t even bothered buying you a ring.” Helena cocked her head, her steady contemplation condescending, pitying. “What you said earlier is very true. Darius is a good man. The kind who would sacrifice his own happiness for those he loves. Yet he’s obviously reluctant to shackle himself to you. A man who is looking forward to marriage publicly claims his fiancée.”

  “I’m afraid she’s correct, Isobel,” Gabriella agreed, strolling the few feet to stand next to the couch her mother perched on.

  A smirk curved the younger woman’s lips, and a sinking, dread-filled pit yawned wide in Isobel’s chest. Was insulting her the purpose behind their visit? Or just a bonus since Darius wasn’t home yet? She glanced toward the bottom of the staircase. Please, God, let Ms. Jacobs keep Aiden upstairs.

  Briefly, she considered exiting the room. But that smacked too much of running, and she’d quit doing that when she returned to Chicago.

  “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Darius,” she said, tone cool. “But why don’t you go ahead and have your say so we can get all this out in the open? That way we no longer have to indulge in this pretense. You don’t want me with Darius.”

  Helena’s lips firmed into a flat, ugly line, anger glittering in her eyes. “I thought we were rid of you for good. But you found a way to sneak back in, didn’t you? It wasn’t enough that you used my son and took him away from us, but now you’ve latched onto my other son. And if we don’t want to lose him or our grandson, we have to deal with you,” she spat out.

  “I would never come between you and Darius,” Isobel objected.

  “As if you could,” Gabriella snapped. “We have a real relationship. We love each other. You don’t know anything about that.”