Billionaire secret sweep

“Perhaps the freedom of flying in the boundless sky is but a lonesome fall through nothingness.”~Emily PatrasTHIRTEEN YEARS Earlier“Where were you?” Isadora called from the foot of the grand staircase, stilling her younger brother’s fleeting steps. She held onto resolute hope to get to the bottom of his recent rebellion.Shirttail askew, Lucian turned with a penetrating scowl that, had she not been anticipating his defiance, would have taken her a step back. “You’re not my keeper, Isadora.”Her heart stammered in her chest, his words cutting to the shabby roots running beneath their family tree like corroded veins. Tangled and rotted, an abandoned place since their mother had passed away eight years ago.Daunting men had always overshadowed the little authority Isadora assumed, and her younger brother’s independence was rapidly dwarfing hers. But she was still his guardian, and as such, it was her sole duty to protect him—even from himself.“Don’t walk away from me, Lucian.”“Then

Pretending to be affronted, Shamus scoffed. “Well … maybe I’ll transfer. Luche is stealing all the attention and the last thing he needs is a bigger ego.”That penetrated her sister’s false indifference. “Don’t you dare!”Shamus laughed and nudged her shoulder. “I’d never.” He gave her a playful wink. “You know what today feels like?”Toni hung on his every word. “What?”“Ice cream. How about we take a ride into the city? You and Isa put on fancy clothes and we’ll make dinner reservations at your dad’s hotel, but we’ll only order off the dessert menu.”The pinch surrounding Isadora’s heart eased as Toni’s eyes cleared, her cheeks stretching into a wide grin. “What about supper?”Shamus lovingly knocked a knuckle against her upturned chin. “Some situations call for special exceptions. What do you say we go break the rules of good social conduct?”“Isa, can we?” Toni bounced with enthusiastic impatience.“Why don’t you and Shamus go? Have fun. I think I’m going to rest.” “You’re never a

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, he laughed. “I didn’t realize you were hiding a little feminist inside. My apologies if I offended you.”“Oh, she’s not little. She just appears that way next to so many large men.” She reached for the bottle only to lift it and find it empty.“Too many sons inheriting their fathers’ arrogance, I suppose.”She considered his words, thought of his son, then realized her huge oversight. “Slade left today.” Feeling like a thoughtless heel, she sat up. “Oh, Sawyer, I’m sorry. Here I am going on and on about my life when you sent your son off—”He cut her apology short with a wave of his hand. “We men like our sons, but eighteen years with them is enough. I wished him luck, gave him some sage advice about condoms and cafeteria food, and he was as glad to be rid of me as I of him.”She laughed. “I suppose it’s different for…” “Mothers?”“Women,” she amended.His gaze met hers and something shifted in the air. Perhaps it was the intimate knowledge of t

Was he really back for his jacket? Had he left it there on purpose? He watched her, keeping his distance, like she was some sort of black widow. She mentally laughed. She was about as threatening as a baby bunny.Putting her back to the bar, she gave him room to get his belongings and go. Reaching past her, he slid the jacket off the back of the chair and stilled, close enough for her to see the contrast of silver threaded in the dark hair at his temples.Her skin tingled as breath locked in her lungs, his scent crawling into her. A million moments she should have had collided in her mind, borrowed memories from novels and cinematic romances and what she knew most girls experienced years before approaching her actual age.His arm brushed the front of her blouse and his eyes shut on a whispered curse. Every breath she took tightened her clothing. She was winded, yet standing perfectly still.“Tell me to go. Tell me to forget the jacket,” he whispered, voice low as it scratched along he

“As sure as time will fly today, Beautiful flowers will fade away.”~Emily PatrasTHE EVENTS of the last hour settled over her like a cool wind creeping in after a hot summer rain. Her fingers shook as she managed to lift the zipper of her skirt. Buttoning her blouse was not as simple.“Allow me,” Sawyer’s gravelly voice spoke softly behind her as the heat of his tall body seeped through the thin material covering her shoulders.With choppy breaths, she lowered her hands and turned to face him. Sliding each little button through its hole, his gaze remained focused on the task. His fingers gathered her long hair and lifted it over one shoulder, as he pressed a kiss to her neck—apparently over his regret.“Your pulse is racing.”Maybe she should have another drink. Her gaze skated to the bottle of scotch on the floor, thousands of dollars seeping into the priceless Oriental carpet. No, she’d definitely had enough to drink.Taking her hand, he guided her to the small settee, righting the