The Secret Billionaire, page 22
I lie in his arms, feeling warm, safe, and secure.
“I didn’t mean to bring you and your family into trouble, Eddie,” I say honestly, because this is the last thing I wanted. We have been talking all night. After the long soak and some warm soup for dinner, we climbed into his bed and have been talking while staring at the flickering flames of the fire ever since.
“You didn’t. Steve did when he decided he could put a hand on you and demand money from me,” Eddie says as my head rests on his naked chest. I can hear his heart thump a little faster as he talks.
His family is rallying. But it isn’t just money. It isn’t even just his name—although those things help. It is the contacts, the professionalism, the research and time and effort his family is putting in. Yes, they are protecting their name. Yes, they are protecting Eddie. But they are also protecting me.
“Why were you so concerned with my white sofa today?” he asks me, and I sigh, not sure I have the energy to dig up yet another ugly story from my past.
“Long story short, I stayed in a short-term foster home for a few weeks. The couple was childless, and they had a nice place with a white sofa. I was the first child they had ever fostered and the first child who ever set foot inside their home. Needless to say, they weren’t equipped for children. I was about eight, full of energy and spunk, and so I was always into things. I was messy,” I say, a small smile on my face as I remember the younger me. I had fire in my belly, even back then.
“You weren’t messy, you were a kid,” Eddie says, and I strum his bare chest again, soothing this new wild beast who is now my protector.
“Well, as I said they had no real experience with kids. They had me for about two weeks, I think, and every time I went to sit down, the wife would scream at me not to touch the sofa because I was dirty and she didn’t want me to ruin it. I guess it is kind of burned into my brain. Now, whenever I see a white seat, I hardly ever sit on it. Even though I am no longer that messy, vibrant child.”
“You can sit on our sofa and paint your nails while eating chocolate ice cream. I don’t care,” he says, and my strumming stops. Did he say our sofa?
“I am not as messy as I was back then, so I think we are all good,” I reply, continuing my strumming again. His small spread of hair across his chest is fast becoming my second favorite part of his body. He is broad and strong, and my head and hands both fit across his torso perfectly, his skin soft to the touch, his muscles contoured and perfect. But my favorite place is still the nape of his neck. I love playing with his hair. It is soft, with a bit of a curl. Even when he slicks it back when in Edward Rothschild mode, I still want to rake my hands through it and mess it up a bit.
“So what is it about police stations that make you so uneasy?” he asks, and I am usually not this open about my life, having buried it so deep over the years and trusting no one with any information about myself or my past. But Eddie has firmly unlocked that security door I had shut tight, and now the words and memories flow out. It feels cathartic. I have seen a few counselors over the years. All have been helpful in some small way. But talking to Eddie like this feels like we are baring ourselves to each other. There will be nothing he doesn’t know, and I am not afraid to tell him everything.
“I have spent many nights in police stations…” I murmur, thinking of my past.
“Behind bars?” he asks, and I snort a laugh.
“No. I have no record, Eddie. But when you’re a kid in and out of foster care, there are not many places open to manage relocations in the evenings or on weekends. Nine to five is managed via the foster care agency, but outside of that, I would be dropped off at police stations, sit on the hard wooden bench or in a quiet small back office for hours until they found someone who could take care of me for the night. Sometimes, I would spend the night there. I often wondered if the police officers just forgot I was there. I heard and saw things in those stations that no child should ever really see. Mostly on busy Friday and Saturday nights. The police officers themselves were mostly nice, especially when I was young, but I really never want to set foot in another police station in my life. Because if I ever saw a child like me in there, waiting for a person to come so I had somewhere to sleep that night, I would probably adopt them myself.”
“The system really needs to change. There has to be a better way for kids in this country,” Eddie says, and I can hear his brain ticking over, thinking about it all. “But I am glad you are here with me now. I am glad that you were strong enough to endure it all and be here now.” Not for the first time, his honest words take my breath away.
“I don’t know what to say…” It all sounds heavy, and it is hard to wrap my head around it all even now, but I trust Eddie. His fingers caress my bare back in a soft rhythm, his touch soothing. We are both naked, nothing between us, our legs tangled in what could be best described as a postcoital snuggle, but we haven't had sex. Just talked all night.
“I want you to stay here with me for the foreseeable future,” he states, his voice solid, confident, and certain. I stay quiet, wanting to give the question the due diligence it requires. I know he needs me close, just as much as I need him. I have no hesitation. There is no question, no doubt that being with Eddie is exactly where I want to be. It surprises me a little that I don’t feel more scared, that I have been on my own and independent for so long and it only takes me mere seconds to decide. But Eddie is my future, I always hoped to meet a man like him, but now I have, and I know this is where I need to be.
“Okay,” I say, my eyes glazing over as I stare at the flames that continue to dance. I breathe out my fear. My fear of letting someone else take care of me. After years of not having that as a kid, I never wanted to feel let down again. But I know Eddie has got me, and I want to fall into him and never leave. I like it here. It feels like what I always thought a home would. Warm, soft, welcoming. We felt together and cocooned at my apartment, but this is different. The level of security I feel here is new. My apartment is secure, I know that, but here, we are so high up, accessed by a private elevator only, and it’s so well soundproofed that I can’t hear anything from outside. Just the crackling of the warm fire.
“You will have a few days off work. I have already called Dr. Wilson and explained,” Eddie says, taking care of so much while I soaked in the bath earlier. That time was much-needed.
“But I just started.” I am a little panicked. I need my job. How the hell will I pay my bills if I don’t have a job?
“I made sure he understood,” Eddie grits out, and I remain silent, knowing that he has taken care of it all.
“When you do go back to work, Tony will take you, and I will join you most days. I don’t know how I can ever let you leave my sight again.” Eddie's honesty is one of his best qualities. Even though he lied to me about exactly who he is, he wears his heart on his sleeve. “But he is in police hands, and he won't be coming out.”
“But he might?” Steve is like Teflon. Nothing sticks to him. He has been picked up by police before, and within a few hours is out walking the streets again without a care in the world.
“He won't. You will never see him again,” Eddie reiterates with so much confidence, I almost believe it.
Almost.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN - EDDIE
I lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling, grateful at some point for hearing her quirky snore so I knew that at least she got some rest. Now as she sits on the sofa, I look at her with concern. She holds her head high, but her vibrant personality is not back in full force yet. That bright light that always shines from her is still a little dull. Exhaustion sits in her shoulders, and if I could take away everything she is going through, I would. But I can’t. Anger still vibrates around my body. I thought about her foster brother all night. The things I wanted to do to him. But my thoughts all ended on one thing. Her. Her strength and resilience are now some of my favorite things about her. She gives me a small smile from where she sits on the sofa, and love thumps in my veins.
“It is going to be a big day,” I say, like she doesn’t already know. She is fresh-faced, her hair falling long around her shoulders. I sit next to her, the two of us drinking coffee, waiting for this hellish day to begin.
“I know,” she says, sucking in a deep breath in preparation. I hear the doorbell and steel myself, wanting to have more time together this morning before the barrage of my life barrels through the door, but knowing that this is me. And my family. She gets to see it all.
“Are you ready?” I ask her as I stand.
“Ready for what?” she asks, looking around, wondering what is going on. It is still early, but I couldn’t hold them off any longer.
“My family. My brothers and their girls are about to walk out of that elevator at any moment. They have been itching to make sure you are alright,” I say, pinning her with my eyes. I see shock flash across her face, then slight confusion, before a small smile emerges. Barely there, but it is. Before she can answer, the elevator arrives, and I see her take another breath and settle herself. I wish I could tell her what is about to happen, but I have no idea what to expect.
“How are you feeling?” Beth is first out of the elevator, and not even looking at me, she makes a beeline straight to Katie, who is now sitting almost in shock as my family all barrel out of the elevator toward her.
“That would have been so frightening. What can we do?” Em says, a little more soothingly as she sits next to Katie, and her arm instantly cuddles around her shoulders. I step away slightly, making room for the women to sit with her. Katie looks up at me, unsure, and I give her a warm smile, one I know doesn't quite meet my eyes.
“I brought cupcakes,” Willow says, putting a large container on the coffee table before sitting next to the girls as my brothers all come and stand by my side, looking down at them all.
“You okay?” Ben asks me, and I release a breath. Am I? I have no idea how bad this situation is—for Katie, for us.
“I think so,” I say, my eyes remaining on Katie, watching her interact with the girls as they all hug her and dote on her. It is one hundred percent overbearing, but she seems to like it, if her soft smile is anything to go by. I clear my throat as my brothers stand next to me and we get everyone's attention.
“So, what is the latest?” I ask, knowing there would have been developments overnight and needing to get on the same page.
“He was charged last night with possession, resisting arrest, intimidation, and blackmail. All of it was caught on security cameras, and we have all written our statements already from what we witnessed,” Ben starts, and I already know there is more, so I look at him and wait for him to continue. “It is also not his first offense. He is wanted in Massachusetts as well for similar crimes.”
“Okay, what else?” I ask, looking at Katie, and she nods at me. She is still vulnerable, but I can see her gaining confidence, getting her strength back.
“I put in a protection order last night. He is to stay away from Katie, you, all of us, our residences, and places of employment, including the hospital,” Ben says, ensuring she knows that she is safe. I watch her swallow.
“What about Eddie?” Tennyson asks, and Ben and I swallow. I don’t care what happens to me. As long as he rots in jail for his crimes, I will be happy.
“The police are coming here in a few hours to take your statements. However, I spoke with them this morning. You punched him in what we positioned as justifiable self-defense since he wouldn’t let her go. You can’t be punished criminally, nor held responsible for damages in a civil action, as long as we can show that you used no more force than what was reasonable. Which you did by only punching him once,” Ben says in his legal jargon.
“So I saved you, baby bro?” Tennyson asks, raising an eyebrow at me in a mock question, and I roll my eyes. He is right, though. Had Tennyson not grabbed my shoulders, I would have pounded that asshole into the pavement. So he did, in fact, save me.
“That is all for today. But, Katie, there are other charges we can talk about in regard to your history with him. At any point, you can speak to a police officer with me or one of my team present, and further charges can be laid against him,” Ben says to her, and I watch as Em rubs her back.
“I want that. I want to do that,” she says, looking up at me, steel determination in her features, and I grit my teeth together. She is a warrior, no doubt about it.
“Okay, I can arrange that to happen here at home as well,” Ben offers, and she nods.
“All that combined means that he will go away for a very long time, Katie. Add on his other outstanding crimes, he will be looking at anywhere from ten to over twenty years,” Harrison says, looking extremely dapper as he will be fronting the media soon.
“Thank you. I appreciate everything that you have done,” Katie says to Ben. “All of you,” she reiterates, looking at my family as we all gather around her.
“No thanks needed,” Harrison tells her. “Our family comes with lots of baggage, stress, and media attention. But we look after each other. We have each other's backs and that now includes you.” I still at his words before my eyes flick to Katie.
“Well, I have a lot of baggage as well, so it looks like I am in good company,” she says with a small smile, breaking any tension or unease in the room, and I huff a laugh. We have a lot to get through, but knowing she is feeling safe and is happy here in my space, with my family, puts my mind at ease.
Today is going to be long, demanding, and emotional, and I have the feeling that it is just the beginning.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT - KATIE
It’s been a week, and I haven’t slept or eaten as much in my life as I have at Eddie’s. Coffee and breakfast are ready for me each morning. Lunch is fully organized by a chef who comes in to prepare healthy meals. We have a warm dinner, glass of wine, and long talks well into the evening. I am still exhausted, but it has been extremely healing.
“How are you doing?” Shelley asks me for what feels like the hundredth time today.
“I feel like an animal in a zoo,” I tell her honestly. It is my first day back at work, and it is as bad as I thought it would be. People are staring at me everywhere I go. They whisper as I walk past. Media are milling around the hospital because Mrs. Rothschild is still here—not that I have seen her. I am giving her a wide berth, as per Eddie’s instructions. After my previous introduction to her, I am happy to follow Eddie’s advice.
“Hmmm, do you need security up here?” Shelley asks me, looking at me with concern. My smile is thin. Security following me around is just totally ludicrous, but Eddie and the hospital staff all still think it is a good idea, one I keep refuting.
“No.” I sigh. “I just feel like I am back in school and am the outcast. I even caught a patient trying to take my photo earlier. I have no idea what for,” I say, scrunching my nose up because it all feels just too weird. Like an invasion of my privacy.
“To sell to the media,” Shelley says, tapping on her computer.
“What?” I ask, looking at her in surprise.
“You are a hot topic at the moment. Everyone wants to know who the local nurse is who bagged the last billionaire and who he loves so much that he hit a guy outside of this hospital protecting you, all while his poor mother is on her deathbed inside. That is what the media are saying, anyway," Shelley says, almost without taking a breath.
“Oh God,” I say, my hand wiping down my face, wondering when it will all just end. Will I ever have a quiet, non-eventful life?
“Excuse me?” I turn at the voice and see the familiar face of a woman standing behind us, no doubt hearing our entire conversation.
“Ohhh, hi. You’re back?” I ask with a half smile.
“Sorry, you must be getting sick of me. I was just hoping I might catch Dr. Wilson today?” she asks, cringing in hope. I hear Shelley sigh next to me and already know that this poor woman will be turned away again.
“I'm sorry, love, he is not available right now. You could wait on the seats over there, but you could be waiting a while,” Shelley offers, giving me a side-eye. We both know that Dr. Wilson will probably walk straight past this woman, but this is the fourth time she has been in over these past few weeks and clearly, she really needs to see him.
“Thank you. It may be a waste of time, but I might just wait for a little while.”
“No problem. We can let you know when he is coming through,” I offer, feeling sorry for this woman. I put her at about my age. Extremely polite, quiet. I am not sure why she needs Dr. Wilson, but it is obviously important as she is very persistent.
“Oh, that would be great, Thank you so much.” Flashing me a small smile, she retreats over to the chairs next to the elevator bank.
“What do you think she needs to see Dr. Wilson so badly for?” I murmur to Shelley as we watch her pull a book out from her bag and sit down, quietly reading.
“I don’t know. If it was anything to do with a patient or medical matter, then I assume his office would have helped her out already. If I had to put money on it, I would say it is personal,” Shelley says, and I have come to realize that Shelley loves a bit of work gossip.
“She brings that thick file in with her every time. It looks decades’ old,” I say, my eyes flicking to her tote bag that sits on the floor at her feet, the thick file full of paperwork sticking out.
“Maybe it is a malpractice waiting to happen,” Shelley murmurs before turning back to her computer and tapping on the keys. The woman looks up at me then, like she knows we are talking about her, and gives me another smile. Her cheeks are pink, looking a little awkward. There is something about her smile that is eerily familiar, but I return her smile and gather my paperwork, knowing that this week has been a lot, and I am probably imagining things. Or slowly going crazy. Either option is likely.
That makes me think of the past few days. I have spent hours with Ben and the police, recounting almost every interaction I have ever had with Steve. It has been tough. Tougher than I ever expected. I had to try to remember dates and times and situations. By the end of it all, once I had gone through everything, Ben and the police had pages and pages of notes. They looked astonished, and I felt instant relief. In those sessions, I just let everything out, and boy, it felt good to get it all off my chest. The heaviness that usually sits on my shoulders is almost nonexistent, and with plans to start regularly weekly counseling, I feel positive.
