The Billionaire's Secret: A BWWM Romance Mystery Read online

  The Billionaire’s Secret

  (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance)

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  www.amazon.com/author/miacaldwell

  © 2015 Mia Caldwell

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

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  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my mother. Flowers always made her happy…

  -Mia

  The Billionaire’s Secret

  Chapter One

  The heat hadn't yet kicked in from being on low overnight. So I sat at the desk in the back office of Young's Floral shop with my gloves still on, cupping my hot coffee mug like my life depended on it. I sipped the strong brew, feeling the warmth spread through my frozen veins, and closed my eyes.

  "Holy shit it's colder than a witch's tit out there!"

  "Hey Kit," I called, not bothering to open my eyes.

  He poked his head in through the door. He was still clad in his red woolen coat, his red beard iced over around his mouth. He looked like Santa Claus and his eyes even twinkled merrily as he unwrapped a woolen muffler from around his neck. "Why are you moping back here, Shay-shay?"

  I huffed in mock exasperation. "I am not moping," I told him fiercely.

  "Good, I'm glad to hear it, lover. There's no moping when your eyebrows are looking so on point."

  I brushed my finger over my brows, please that he had noticed. "I tried that brow tint you recommended."

  "I can tell. Did you try that Nars foundation I was telling you about?"

  "Too red," I shook my head. "Why do make-up companies think Black women are actually just orange?"

  Kit shook his head. "I don't know, lover. You're the one getting makeup tips from a fat, pale Irishman," he chuckled.

  "You know my skin tone better than Cover Girl does," I grinned and stood up to let him crush my ribs in a bear hug.

  "Mm, hold me forever, let me absorb your warmth," he mumbled as he squeezed all the air out of my lungs. "How did you get here so fast?"

  "I had to sprint in, or risk freezing to death," I confessed.

  "I think my car actually froze to the pavement at one point in traffic," he complained. "The heater being on full blast made absolutely no difference."

  "They say tomorrow's going to be even worse," I said grimly, clutching my coffee to warm up after Kit's frozen hug.

  I hated winter with a passion, and this one had been particularly brutal. Storm after storm before Christmas and now this deep, Arctic freeze had held us in its icy grip for days now. Temperatures struggled to climb into the single digits. I was starting to forget what light and warmth felt like.

  Thank god I worked in a flower shop.

  "Hey," I snapped my eyes open in concern. "Your mom isn't coming in today, right?" The image of frail Mrs. Young on the treacherously icy sidewalks filled me with panic.

  "No," Kit shook his head. "I told her to stay home. She hates me now, of course." He struck a tragic pose. "But of course, it's not the first time."

  "Bullshit," I smiled. "Your mother is too sweet to be capable of hatred. Hell, she's barely capable of anger. What did she do, did she only offer you two fresh-baked cookies instead of three? Poor baby!"

  Kit ducked his head. He knew I was right. "I'm a big boy," he huffed, patting his large stomach. "I need my cookies. Denying them to me is tantamount to maternal neglect."

  "Hey, I wanted to ask you...." I whirled around and grabbed the invoice I had left on the desk from last night. "I can't read your mom's handwriting," I pointed. "Is that a one or a seven right there?"

  Kit squinted at the spidery handwriting. "I...can't tell. Does it matter?"

  I grimaced. "Yeah, it matters kind of a lot. I mean, either way the client never paid, I'm just trying to figure out how much she got stiffed."

  "Poor mom," Kit shook his head. "You're figuring it all out though, right?" he asked hopefully.

  I shook my head. "I wish I had better news for you, Kit. But her books are all messed up. Best I can figure so far, she's owed around four thousand dollars and that's going back only the last few years. Whoever ran your books before...."

  "Seth," Kit hissed.

  "Well, Seth had to have been skimming off the top."

  "You're such a ray of sunshine on this bleak morning. You know that?"

  "I'm just telling you the truth."

  Kit rolled his eyes. "Lover, I know we hired you for your brutal honesty, but sometimes it's nice to sugarcoat things, you know? Just to make people feel nice? Ramp them up to the bad news before dropping it in their lap?

  I shook my head. "I don't lie, Kit. You know that."

  "Lawd do I ever," he grumbled.

  Just then the bell over the front door dinged. We both nearly jumped out of our skin in surprise. "On a day like today?" I hissed.

  Kit seemed frozen in alarm. I gave him a shove. "Go! It's a customer! Go sell them flowers!"

  Kit straightened up and opened the door to the front of the shop. "Welcome to Young's! How can I help you today!" he boomed, sounding overeager.

  I cringed. It had been days since anyone had walked through that door. The bills were piling up and rent was due the first. If Kit's eagerness to make a sale ended up chasing the customer away, it would be bad news.

  I turned back to the desk and the pile of invoices, and tried my best not to keep listening to the voices in the front of the shop. But hell if I wasn't eager too. I needed this job, more than I liked to admit, and I needed Young's to be successful.

  "Just a moment, sir," Kit's booming voice floated back to my ears, denying me the claim that I wasn't eavesdropping. "We have a trained consultant for just these matters."

  Oh, smooooth. Wait, does he mean me?

  Kit poked his red beard through the door. "Shay, will you be able to assist this gentleman with a special order?"

  His eyes were dancing in merriment that had nothing to do with a sale.

  "So he's cute, I take it?" I whispered.

  "What? Heavens why would you say that?" Kit feigned innocence.

  "Oh stop, I know that look." I rose from the chair. "Usually you hog the man-candy for yourself."

  "I do not hog anything, young lady," he puffed up. "It's my life's mission to get you laid and you know it."

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Lovely."

  "Now would you get out there? I'm pretty positive he plays for your team, lover," Kit sighed, plopping his huge frame into the other swivel back chair. "Which is a shame for me. Because...goddamn."

  "Uh huh," I stood up, brushing my ink-stained hands idly on my black work slacks. Bits of stray floral foam insisted on clinging to them, no matter how many dryer sheets I used. "I'm watching you, Christopher."

  Kit visibly winced. "Told you not to call me that. Only my mother calls me that."

  "Well if I turn out anything like your mother, I'll be proud," I said, and headed through the door to greet our first customer in a long time.

&nbs
p; Chapter Two

  The usually bright and cheerful front of the shop seemed washed out. The snow was falling thick and fast outside, and collected in little drifts at the corners of the plate glass windows that faced out onto the street. The faint shush shush sound of the passing busses plowing through the slushy streets made everything seem hushed, like we were being quieted by a giant librarian.

  I would need to go out and shovel the walk again soon if it kept piling up like this. Kit always insisted, but I hated making him do it just because he was the man. I could handle a little snow.

  The customer was standing in the far corner, near the refrigeration case, his head bowed almost in prayer. He hadn't spotted me yet, which was a good thing.

  Gave me time to collect myself upon seeing him.

  In spite of Kit's best efforts, I had not been on a date in months. In fact, since the divorce - since Tre cheated on me - I had avoided men all together. It was like the part of me that needed them; needed affection, intimacy, hell even a friendly hook-up, had been shut off like a faucet.

  That faucet was suddenly turned on full blast.

  I reached out for something to grab on to and ended up running my fingers along the glass display case. It helped me feel like I wasn't going to float away, blown upward by the tornado of sexiness that stood in front of me.

  My eyes were darting all over the place, feasting on him like a starving man at a buffet. Little delicious things like the angle of his cheekbone, and the strong set of his jaw. A nibble of how his close-cropped hair emphasized the gorgeous lines and planes that made up his face. A tasty morsel of deep full lashes and for dessert the wicked set of his mouth.

  I thought I had had my fill.

  Then he turned to me and smiled.

  His eyes were gray. Stormy, sky-over-water gray, that snapped against his golden-tan skin. A deep dimple shadowed his left cheek, turning the wicked set of his mouth into something deliciously sinful.

  Kit had called it. Goddamn, indeed.

  I lifted my chin and tried to modulate my voice into something professional, instead of fawning. "May I help you?"

  "Yes," he said, in a deep tenor that went right to my flip-flopping belly. "Yes, I hope you can." He walked over to me with those long legs of his, the hem of his long wool trench coat swirling around his knees. Like a superhero in disguise. "I'm looking for something...special."

  The way he said it made me want to bite my lip, but I refrained. "Oh, well you're come to the right place!" I chirped. Wait, did that sound dirty?

  His mouth twisted a little. Yes, it definitely sounded dirty, now.

  Dammit. "Er, I mean, we specialize in custom bouquets." My voice was higher than it normally was and I quickly cleared my throat.

  He leaned against the counter. He was so close. Could I smell him? I could definitely feel him. The warmth, the energy that radiated off of his skin. It was making me delirious.

  His stormy gray eyes twinkled at me, like he was used to having this effect on women and I felt my cheeks flame. "We specialize in custom bouquets," I repeated.

  "So I heard," he said. He was teasing me. I forgot how to flirt somewhere along the lines. This was just embarrassing. "That's why I'm here."

  I suddenly seemed to have no saliva left in my mouth. "So what did you have in mind?" I croaked.

  "What's your name?"

  The way he looked at me made me feel like my name was the most important thing right now. "Sh-Shay," I stammered.

  He tapped the counter with his index finger, like he was considering. "I like it. It suits you."

  "Suits me?" What an odd thing to say.

  That dimple deepened. "It's beautiful, but not showy."

  I blushed all the way up to the roots of my hair. Was he flirting with me? He had to be flirting with me. "Thanks?"

  "It is. You should sound more sure of yourself."

  What? "Okay?"

  "Is this your shop, Shay?" The way he said my name was like honey rolling around in his mouth. It was doing something terrifying to my stomach.

  I shook my head. "Just helping an old friend." A really, really old friend! Like super old! I thought wildly, giddy.

  Holy shit Shay, calm down.

  "Helping with the flowers? Do they tend to get unruly?" Was that a joke? Should I laugh? God, I am so out of practice.

  "No, I'm helping with the books." I smiled. Then for no good reason I kept right on talking. "I have a bachelor's in accounting from Temple and an MBA from Wharton."

  Now why the hell did I feel like I needed to announce that? Did I want him to be impressed with me?

  Yes. Yes I did.

  This man made no sense to me. He was bundled up against the elements, dressed in a dark wool trench unbuttoned to reveal a dove-gray cashmere sweater underneath. His black leather gloves fit over his fingers like a second skin and his shoes shone with recent polish in spite of the salty slush outside. He was covered from head to toe, but all I could think about was undressing him, slowly, piece by piece, revealing the golden skin underneath.

  The thin sliver of skin that peeked at me from his wrist was more erotic than anything I had ever seen.

  He leaned on the counter. He was so close I could smell the leather on his gloves. The warmth of the wool. And underneath it, something that could only be...him.

  He raised an eyebrow. Waiting. I realized I had trailed off while I was staring. Shit, he caught me. "Uh, this is just a temporary thing. Until recently, I worked the books for my ex's business."

  My pulse was racing. Why did I mention Tre? Fail. Shut up, Shay. Abort! Abort!

  But he leaned in even closer. "Ex?" he paused. "Really?"

  What the? "Yes. Really."

  "I don't believe it Shay." There was that honeyed way of saying my name again. I could drown in his eyes.

  I looked down. "Why not?"

  He leaned in, close enough so that his breath brushed past my ear as he whispered, "Because who in their right mind would let you go?"

  My heart hammered so loudly in my chest I swore he could hear it. After months and months of drought, barely even acknowledged by any man other than Kit, it was a rush to know I still had it. I had never even considered dating white guys in the past, but this one, well...maybe what I needed was a change in more ways than one.

  I licked my lips in a way I hoped was seductive. "It was a mutual letting go," I demurred.

  He stayed right where he was, letting his breath pass over my ear again. "I wouldn't let you go, Shay," he rumbled thrillingly.

  For some reason it didn't sound creepy. It sounded...intriguing. I turned to look at him sidelong, suddenly bold. "How would you know what to do with me?" I asked archly.

  He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I have a few ideas."

  Thud thud thud went my heart. He was definitely flirting. "I'd like to hear them." I said.

  "I'd like to show them to you."

  I swallowed. Any moment now he was going to ask me out. I'd borrow one of Jasmine's cocktail dresses, maybe have Kiki do my makeup. "You're pretty confident, aren't you?" I teased. I felt a clutching down between my legs, the likes of which had been missing for far too long.

  "Confident? Yeah. Excited too. I didn't expect to meet the most beautiful woman in the world in a florist's in South Philadelphia."

  I was really starting to enjoy this. "Did you still want to buy those flowers or did you just come in here to get my number?"

  He chuckled. "No, if you'll recall, when I came in there was no one behind the counter. I actually do have an order I'd like to place."

  I grabbed the stack of order forms. "So tell me your name, first?"

  "Liam. Graves." He spelled out.

  My pen froze in midair. "Graves? Like Graves Foundation?"

  He grimaced. "My mother."

  My pulse raced for a different reason. The Graves were rich. Like, capital R rich. Oldest of the old money, name-on-a-hospital-wing rich.

  "And Liam, tell me about the kind of bouquet you want."
I was doing a pretty good job of keeping my cool, considering I wanted to scream and run shrieking for Kit.

  "I want to get a bouquet in celebration. But I want it to...say something. Does that make sense?"

  "The language of flowers," I replied immediately.