Billionaire secret sweep

Prologue

“If the only mark I leave upon this earth is the indelible caress of my whispered name within the downbeats of your heart, I will be satisfied.”

Fiona Summerville

Only Dark Around the Edges

THERE IS a moment in every woman’s life, be her a queen or a pawn, when she is taken so off guard the game is forever changed. Isadora Patras should have been shockproof by now, but as the pieces fell, exposing her once again to the excruciating agony of loss, her hard earned fortitude slipped and she surrendered. Game over.

Her lungs constricted around each draw of perfumed air as she pivoted away from her brother, Lucian. Dizzy, she flinched, each onlooker’s stare stabbing through her thin veneer of composure. Too many strangers.

“Isadora?”

She couldn’t whisper a single excuse to Lucian as she turned. She needed to escape. Keeping her head down she rushed toward the doorway, against the current of bodies approaching.

Her life flashed painfully through her mind with kaleidoscope glimpses of her past, tilted and jagged. Broken. Upside down and disjointed. Lumbering strides clumsily carried her away from the crowd. She struggled for elegance when everything inside of her begged to run. Escape.

A cry built in her throat, but she swallowed it back. Patrases didn’t cry —not even the female ones—according to her father.

A thousand unfinished sentiments danced on her tongue as the agony inside seeped past her lips in a clipped whimper. The pain in her heart climbed as the sob in her throat built, each step announcing the end of her courage, the acceptance of her loss.

A piercing buzz sounded in her ears as reality truly set in. She wasn’t going to make it. She was going to fall apart, right here, in front of all these people and the last of her dignity would be stolen, just as so many other things had been.

I can’t handle this…

The excruciating sorrow was hers and hers alone. No one knew the truth. They all believed the lie.

The doorway yawned only ten feet away, but bodies cluttered the exit. She needed to get through the throng of guests before the last broken pieces of her heart shattered into dust.

“Excuse me,” she murmured, keeping her head down and angling toward the hallway.

A suffocating vise closed around her heart, radiating into her shoulders with crushing, agonizing waves at the slightest brush of contact. Her knees softened as she turned the corner and came face to face with another line of strangers. Too many people.

Who were they? They were all here for him, yet she didn’t recognize a single one.

Because he wanted it that way…

The room tilted, the narrow hall shrinking as countless bystanders blended into one. Nausea churned through her empty stomach. Her veil of composure slipped, exposing vulnerabilities no one would understand. No one except the one person she couldn’t speak to about this.

She swallowed down the pain as she had so many times before, but nothing came close to the agony she was up against now. This was absolutely the last time he’d ever hurt her.

She tried to bury it, pretend it never happened, which it might as well not have, being that no one else knew the truth—except him, the one person who deserved to never see her like this. The one person she wished was here. The only person who knew the real her and accepted every imperfection she hid from the rest of the world. But asking him to accept the heartbreak she suffered for another man was simply too much. She couldn’t do that to him…

A sob gave way, slicing through the polite silence like a frigid wind cuts through the heat of a summer day. Heads jerked in her direction. She couldn’t face their judgment, their assumptions.

The hallway seemed to lengthen with each step. She’d never make it. Her vision tilted and she leaned into the wall. She had no choice but to face this alone. Always alone.

Breathe!

Her lips parted as she sucked in a lungful of air. The moment it traveled past the lump in her throat her queasy stomach revolted.

The clashing stench of perfume and people spoiled the natural scent of the flowers. Her mouth watered. Her throat swallowed, but a jarring wooziness unleashed inside of her. Tiny beads of sweat clung to her brow, each carrying the weight of an entire ocean.

Don’t you dare surrender here! You keep moving!

She staggered another step, certain everyone was now staring. Never had her secrets felt as heavy as they did in that moment. His secrets. Theirs. Now, they were all hers.

All of her polished grace was a sham, nothing but chipped layers disguising unsophisticated innocence worn thin by time. She’d never make it to the front door at this rate. It was too far.

Pivoting in the direction she’d just come, she lurched toward a discrete pocket door hidden in the wall. Faces blurred into macabre figures as she struggled to breathe, her heart jackhammering in her chest.

Her hands pressed into the panel, her mind not caring if she wasn’t permitted beyond this point. She needed an escape. She needed privacy, because she was breaking in broad daylight after years of fighting for flawless composure.

Every fundamental experience had taught her how to hide—a pawn on the run, forever racing toward the elusive dignity of a queen. She had nothing left to sacrifice.

I surrender. I surrender…

As the paneled door slid open she rushed inside the private sitting room and closed the world away. Her face pressed to the wood as her breath beat out of her.

Too much pain. Too many regrets. The secrets gutted her, slipping out in retched, raw sobs. The tears came like a harsh rain after an endless drought. Relentless.

She let go, surrendering the last of her poise to the pain. Gasping, she moaned against each brutal wave of sadness as years of silent suffering escaped in broken wails. There was no disguising it here. It was the ugly truth she’d carried for more than a decade. It was a truth she’d bear for the rest of her life.

Her shoulders curled inward as another jagged sob escaped. Something touched her shoulders and she gasped. Her hands flew to her face, hiding tracks of tears and traces of exposed anguish as a floorboard creaked, announcing the presence of another person in the private room.

Horrified to discover she wasn’t alone, she hid against the door, blatantly visible, but crippled by the indignity that someone was witness to her distress. She couldn’t bear to turn around.

“Isadora…”

Her spine stiffened as her name fell like a plea, a rasp of worry, hidden in the strong tenor of a masculine voice. Her head slowly lifted as his familiar, gentle tone penetrated her mortification and her lips parted.

Wet lashes blinking in surprise, she slowly pivoted, no longer hiding her tears. Her heart sparked in her chest as her gaze traveled over his designer suit, past his strong jaw, and fell upon his familiar eyes.

He’s here…

She held his stare and her breath stuttered. There were no words for how deeply she loved him. His presence was everything. He was everything.

Brow pinched, he delicately dragged a thumb under her lashes, visibly reading her heartache and accepting it. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder as she lost herself in his sheltering hold.

Safe.