The Billionaire's Angel (Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires Book 7) Read online

  The Billionaire’s Angel

  A Scandals of the Bad Boy Billionaires Novel

  Ivy Layne

  Ginger Quill Press, LLC

  Contents

  About

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue: Part One

  Epilogue: Part Two

  Sneak Peek

  Thank You

  Also by Ivy Layne

  About Ivy Layne

  About

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S ANGEL

  He thought the fight was over until his heart was on the line.

  I thought coming home would solve all my problems. I’ve never been more wrong.

  After a decade in the military, I’m more at home in the desert than the mansion where I grew up.

  I want to pretend that six months as a captive didn’t change me, but ever since I escaped, I haven’t slept.

  Nightmares. Flashbacks.

  Nothing makes sense anymore.

  Until I see her.

  She looks like an angel, standing in the moonlight in her white nightgown, but the second I touch her, I know she's all woman.

  Sophie’s no angel, but she just might be my salvation. If I can convince her to let down her guard.

  Secrets lurk in her green eyes. Secrets that threaten our fragile connection.

  Secrets that could steal her from me.

  Home was supposed to be safe, but now I’m in the fight of my life to save the woman I love, before I lose everything.

  Chapter One

  Sophie

  My hands shook as I measured a short length of tape. Staring down at the black cockroach in my hand, I wondered again how I’d gotten myself into this mess.

  It’s not what you’re thinking. The cockroach wasn’t real. I’ve learned how to be brave in the past few years, but not brave enough to carry around live bugs. Yuck. No, this cockroach had been carefully cut out of black construction paper, along with the selection of spiders and crickets spread across the seat of the leather couch.

  It was after two in the morning, and I was in my employer’s library, fumbling in the dark to tape the fake bugs to the inside of the white silk lampshades. The next person to flip on the lights would be treated to the illusion that huge bugs lurked inside the lamps. I could already imagine the screams that would echo through the house.

  It wouldn’t be the first time.

  I really had to find a way to keep my charge off the internet. Boredom plus an active mind equals trouble. At least it does when your name is Amelia Winters.

  Since Amelia was seventy-eight and her hands weren’t as nimble as mine, I got roped into carrying out the pranks she dreamed up. I was supposed to be her nurse, and I was when she needed one.

  High blood pressure and type two diabetes meant she needed some supervision, but not enough to require live-in care. Since most of the family had moved out of the enormous house, and Amelia’s great nephew Aiden traveled often for work, I was there to keep her both healthy and entertained.

  It could have been a lonely job, if not for Amelia. Her pranks aside, she was a blast to work for - funny and loyal and sweet. Her body was slowing down, but her mind was sharp, and she had a wicked sense of humor. Sometimes too wicked.

  The pranks, case in point. At least once a week she came up with a new one, sending me out for materials and instructing me on the details of her plans.

  At first, I’d worried she was going to get me fired. Since my husband had died, I’d been bouncing from job to job. I’d been more than ready to settle down when I’d been hired here, and I hadn’t wanted to be kicked out for lining the hallway with tiny cups filled with water.

  Amelia might be almost eighty, but her sense of humor was a lot more frat-boy than elderly matron.

  Fortunately for me, the family was well versed in Amelia’s ways. Aiden, who’d scared the heck out of me when he’d hired me, adored his great-aunt. She could probably set the house on fire, and he’d laugh and kiss her on the cheek. The rest of them were the same—affectionate and amused by Amelia’s antics. The only two exceptions were the housekeeper, Mrs. Williamson, and Aiden’s cousin, Gage.

  Mrs. Williamson and Amelia were chalk and cheese. Mrs. W was far too proper to admit she didn’t love every member of the Winters family, but we all knew Amelia drove her nuts. Amelia, for her part, delighted in pestering Mrs. W. More than once I’d heard her mutter under her breath that Mrs. W had a stick up her you-know-where.

  She’d never say it, but I’m pretty sure Mrs. W thought Amelia should give in and act her age. I’d only been with the family for six months, but I could have told her that was a lost cause. By all accounts, Amelia Winters had never acted her age, and at seventy-eight, she wasn’t about to start.

  I adored Amelia, and I had to admit, some of her pranks were funny, but I liked Mrs. W too much to let her think her beloved Winters House was infested with six-inch cockroaches. As soon as I’d taped the last fake insect in place, I pulled out my phone to shoot Mrs. W a warning text.

  Sometime tomorrow she’d come into the library on a made-up pretext and let out a very convincing scream. Amelia would get her laugh, and Mrs. W wouldn’t have to kill her. Everyone would be happy.

  I tapped SEND on my text and went to shove the phone in the pocket of my robe when two arms closed around my chest like steel bars, pinning my hands to my sides.

  My phone tumbled from nerveless fingers, bouncing off my bare toes and skidding across the carpet. I froze where I was, my heart thumping in my chest so hard I heard the whoosh of blood in my ears.

  Panic shot ice down my spine.

  My nerves screamed: DANGER! DANGER!

  Head spinning with fear, I tried to think. The long, hard body pressed to my back made that impossible. Eyes squeezed shut, memories flashed against my closed lids, a newsreel of everything I wanted to forget.

  Hard hands grabbing me in the dark, dragging me from my bed. Pain.

  It isn’t Anthony, I told myself. Anthony is dead.

  Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I said, “Let me go.”

  A low, husky voice rumbled in my ear. “Not until you tell me what the hell you’re doing in here in the middle of the night.”

  A hitch in my voice, I said, “Amelia. Amelia sent me.”

  The words tangled in my throat. I couldn’t say more. The heat of a male body so close to mine, the strength of his arms trapping me, his warm breath against my cheek - it was too much.

  I hadn’t been this close to a man—any man–since my husband had died.

  After Anthony, I’d never wa
nted to be this close to a man again.

  In a rush of awareness, I knew this wasn’t Aiden. Aiden had always been careful to preserve a polite, formal distance between us. If he caught me skulking around the house in the middle of the night, he’d never grab me from behind. Heck, with the way Aiden adored Amelia he’d probably volunteer to finish the prank himself.

  If it wasn’t Aiden. It had to be Gage. Aiden’s cousin had arrived two days before, when Amelia and I had been out on a shopping trip, picking up construction paper and tape. I met him briefly at the family dinner to celebrate his homecoming, but I hadn’t seen him since. Hoping my guess was right, I said, “I’m Sophie. Amelia’s nurse.”

  A grunt in my ear, but the arms around me didn’t loosen. Shoot. I knew better than to struggle. Fighting back only made them hurt you more. My breath shallow, body still, I tried again.

  “I’m allowed to be here. I’m not doing anything wrong. Please let me go.”

  I felt his head drop to my shoulder, the heat of his forehead pressing into my bare neck. He drew in a deep breath.

  Was he smelling me?

  Panic sliced through me again.

  No. Please, no. Please don’t make me have to leave this place.

  I’d thought I was safe here. For the first time in years, I was safe. I didn’t want to have to leave.

  His heart jackhammered, the echo of its frantic beats fluttering against my back where his chest pressed tightly to me.

  “Please,” I whispered. The arms around me loosened. I stayed frozen. I was too cautious to move until I’d truly been set free. This could be a trap, and I was too smart to fall for it. Anthony had trained me well.

  Warm lips brushed the side of my neck. Another deep inhale. He was smelling me. The urge to flee was almost impossible to resist, but I knew in my gut running was the worst mistake I could make.

  I wracked my brain for everything I knew of Gage. He was the oldest son of James and Anna Winters, Aiden’s aunt and uncle. James and Anna had been brutally murdered when Gage was a child. When Aiden’s parents had been killed in an identical crime eight years later, Gage had been eighteen. The day after their funeral he’d joined the army. Until today, he’d never really come home.

  Details of his military service were scarce, but Amelia had told me everything she knew. He’d enlisted, gone to college, then through officer training school, before he’d joined the Rangers. After that he’d moved into special forces, his missions and teams so top secret his family hadn’t been sure he was still with the army until they’d called to tell Aiden that Gage was missing.

  For months the family had been stuck in limbo, swinging between grief and hope, right up until a second call had informed Aiden that Gage had escaped captivity. He was coming home as soon as the military hospital released him, but they’d warned Aiden that the months of imprisonment had taken a toll.

  Gage was no longer the man his family remembered.

  Aiden had commented dryly that Gage had been gone so long, they barely knew him at all. No matter what the circumstances of his homecoming, to his family, Gage was a stranger. As my panic ebbed, I realized the man holding me captive might possibly be more freaked out than I was.

  He probably had some form of post-traumatic stress if he’d been held captive for months. Finding an intruder in his home was just the kind of thing that would set him off, especially when his home must seem like a foreign place after so many years away.

  Logic told me that a former special forces soldier suffering from PTSD was more dangerous, not less, but my guess at what might be going through his head put me back in control. As a woman alone in the dark, I was terrified. As a nurse, and a woman used to dealing with volatile men, I knew what I needed to do.

  “Gage?” I asked, careful to keep my voice low and soothing. “Gage, it’s okay. You can let go. I’m Amelia’s nurse. I’m allowed to be here. It’s okay.”

  I kept talking in the same soothing voice, feeling the tension slip from his body. Eventually, he lifted his head and stepped back, setting me free. With an odd sense of triumph, I crossed the room before I turned around. I thought he was steady, but I wanted some space between us, just in case.

  “I’m going to turn on the lamp,” I warned just before I reached beneath the shade and turned the knob. Light flared, blinding me for a moment. A deep chuckle rumbled from across the room.

  “Whose idea was it?” he asked.

  His voice distracted me for a second, so deep and calm, at odds with the tension that had seized his muscles only a few minutes before. I glanced at the light and saw the shadow of an enormous spider lurking on the inside of the shade.

  I stepped away with a shiver before I realized what I was doing. Silly, since I was the one who had taped the bugs in place, but I hadn’t expected them to look so real. Amelia was good.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Amelia’s. It’s always Amelia’s idea.” I wanted to ask if he was okay, but I held my tongue.

  “Clever,” he said.

  “That’s Amelia,” I agreed.

  “Is this the only room you did?”

  “It is.” Judging it safe to move, I began to gather up my materials, tucking my phone back in the pocket of my robe and making sure I had all the extra bugs and the tape. A prank was no good if I left the evidence sitting around.

  “Mrs. W won’t be happy.”

  I smiled. It was sweet the way the family doted on Mrs. W. I’d always imagined a family as wealthy and powerful as the Winterses would be stuffy, far above those they’d consider the help. Instead, they treated Mrs. W like family and had welcomed me as an equal, insisting I join them for meals and giving me a room in the main house that was bigger than my apartment when I’d been in nursing school.

  “I already texted her,” I reassured Gage. “She’ll make a big fuss tomorrow when she turns on the lights. Unless Aiden does it first.”

  “Aiden doesn’t know?”

  I shook my head, picking up the last scrap of construction paper. Suddenly without anything to do, I crossed my arms over my chest. Gage stood in shadow, his features hard to make out, but I was uncomfortably aware I was in my robe, my hair down, looking like an unprofessional mess.

  In the six months I’d been living in Winters House, I’d never encountered another soul awake in the middle of the night.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “No, Aiden likes to be surprised.”

  Gage let out a grunt I couldn’t decipher. He took a step forward, leaving the shadows of the corner. Light bathed his features, and my breath caught. I’d heard Gage and Aiden were like twins. Everyone else must be blind. To my eyes, they looked nothing alike.

  Sure, they both had the same build - tall, broad shoulders, lean hips. The same dark hair. Even their features were superficially similar, with sharp cheekbones, aristocratic noses and full lower lips. Where Aiden’s hair had the same auburn tones as his little sister, Charlie, Gage’s was a true brown, not a hint of red to be seen.

  I’d always thought soldiers wore their hair short, but Gage’s was a little long. Shaggy. As if he hadn’t had it cut in months. Which of course, he hadn’t. I imagined his hairstyle hadn’t been a priority when he’d been trying to escape his captors.

  He’d probably cut it now that he was home. Maybe with shorter hair, he’d look more like Aiden. I took in the tension in his shoulders, his hands curled into fists.

  No. The obvious aside, Aiden looked nothing like Gage.

  Aiden was cool. Refined. Controlled.

  Standing in the pool of light, his faded grey t-shirt stretched around his biceps, hugging his well-defined chest, Gage was raw, his power barely leashed. Despite his stillness, he vibrated with energy.

  I sensed it was taking everything he had to remain where he was. His vivid blue eyes were the least of the differences between Gage and his cousin.

  Those eyes were leveled on me, pinning me in place as effectively as his arms had a few minutes before.

  Clearing my throat, I sai
d, “Are you going to spoil it for her?”

  “The prank?” Gage asked. At my nod, he said, “No.”

  “Thank you.” I started for the door to the library, careful to give Gage a wide berth. I didn’t think he was going to grab me again, but it seemed smarter to stay out of arm’s reach.

  “Tell me next time,” he said.

  “What?” I stopped at the door, confused.

  He was silent for a long moment before answering in a halting voice. “I don’t do well with surprises these days. The next time Amelia decides to mess with us, fill me in.”

  Instantly, I understood. Amelia’s plan to duct tape an airhorn to Aiden’s desk chair would be a nightmare to a man newly home from a combat zone, even if he didn’t have post-traumatic stress, and I was betting Gage did.

  “Do you have a cell?” I asked.

  Gage raised his eyebrows in question. I explained, “I text Mrs. W to warn her. I’ll try to talk Amelia out of a few of her plans that might be a problem, but I can text you, too. That way you know what’s coming.”

  “So, Amelia hasn’t slowed down. Good to know some things don’t change,” he said, his voice heavy with something I couldn’t quite identify. Regret? Whatever it was, Gage Winters sounded sad.

  I had the absurd urge to comfort him.

  Absurd because not only did I not know what was wrong, he was a Winters. Yes, he’d been through a terrible experience. But he was alive. He was home with his family, living in this enormous mansion, with a job waiting for him at Winters Incorporated, and more money than he could count stashed away in the bank.