The Billionaire's Secret: A BWWM Romance Mystery (17 page)
Read The Billionaire's Secret: A BWWM Romance Mystery Online
Authors: Mia Caldwell
Epilogue
Mrs. Young nodded into the phone.
"Thank you. Yes dear. Have a lovely day."
I beamed at her from across the brightly
mopped floors. "Another order?"
She leaned back and stretched.
"I'm not sure I'm cut out for this pace any more. I'm too old for success,
dear."
I laughed. "I brought you on to
make arrangements, not answer the phones."
She cocked her head, her old eyes
twinkling. "And I have that big order still...."
I grunted in recognition.
"You've been working on that forever." It was true. Mrs. Young
received a mysterious call before the store was officially opened and had been
working in the back, in secret, ever since.
"It's almost ready, too,"
she beamed. "My best work ever."
I smiled back at her, delighted to
see the shine back in her eyes. It made me feel so good to do this for her,
relieve the stress of business and let her go back to what she loved, arranging
flowers. "So go to it."
She huffed as the phone rang again.
"I would, dear, but someone needs to man these phones of yours."
"I can do that," a shy
voice piped up.
I looked over to Lily, where she
stood near the doorway to the back room. The mop was still clutched in her
hands. She was so proud to be gainfully employed that she hadn't stopped
mopping since I hired her. My floor was spotless.
"Okay," I thought a minute.
"Sure Lily, you can do that." I lunged for the phone, now on its
fourth ring. "Next call is yours," I mouthed.
But when I inhaled to give the
greeting I had agonized three nights before perfected, and impatient voice cut
me off. "We're just finding parking. I swear, PWA had Chestnut shut down
between Broad and 16th for no apparent reason...."
I grinned at Jasmine's frustration.
"You're not missing anything, honey, relax. Grand opening is tomorrow
night. Tonight is just friends and family and we wouldn't get started without
you."
Jasmine was still mumbling curses
about the Philadelphia Water Authority as I hung up. "Girls are on their
way," I told Kit.
He clutched his plastic wine glass
harder. "They better be if they was any chance of there being any Riesling
left." He fluttered over and kissed my cheek. He smelled like cologne and
sweet wine. "I'm so proud of you. And nervous for you. But mostly
proud."
I laughed. "I couldn't have done
any of this without you," I told him sincerely.
But his eyes were on the front door.
"And I couldn't have done it without loverboy," he swooned.
I looked up to see Liam at the front
door. A puff of warm spring air accompanied him as he strolled in, surveying
the shop with wide gray eyes.
I rushed up to him and he caught me
up in his arms, swinging me around before kissing me, hard. "Oh Shay, baby
girl, you did good."
I laughed and poked him in the chest.
"And you looked good," I teased picking at his jeans and casual
button down.
"Focus here, Shay," he
grinned at me, showing that dimple that was always my undoing.
I snapped back up from leering at
him. "Focus on what?" I teased back. "Is there anything else
that matters in the world besides the way your ass looks in jeans?"
"Oh get a room you two,"
Kit huffed.
"Why, when we have the whole
store here?" Liam pulled me to him and pretended to grope me to Kit's
evident disgust. "Surely my girl being the owner means something,
right?"
Owner. It still didn't sound right.
It sounded unbelievable, in fact. But no I, no we, had done it.
When Liam pulled his money from his
family's holdings, he needed a new venture to invest in. This...whole
incredible thing was actually his idea.
I surveyed the bright shop with so
much pride my heart could have burst. The DIY stations, the classroom, the
little library rack bursting with books on flower lore. We had already been
written up in both Philadelphia Weekly and the Inquirer as the hippest
"florist with a twist."
"Shay, I moved the tables into
the back, they were crowding the fire exits," Darius rumbled from behind
me. He was in charge of setup for the opening tomorrow and was taking
everything a bit too seriously.
"Thanks Dad!" I called with
a teasing smile. "Now, please relax?"
"Dad. Still getting used to
being called that," he grimaced, and put on his shades.
Just then Jasmine and Kiki burst
through the door and stopped dead. Kiki clapped her hands and let out a squeal.
"Oh Shay it's gorgeous!"
Jasmine was still standing open-mouthed.
Kit, noticing her silence, handed her a glass of wine which she downed quickly.
I had to laugh. "Your silence is always the best compliment, Jazzy,"
I told her affectionately, hugging them both.
"Here darling, I saved you some
of the Riesling. I would like my medal now," Kit poured a glass and handed
it to Kiki, who took it with a smile and went back to staring.
"Champagne for you," Liam
said, producing a bottle from out of his coat like a magician. "But let it
sit for a sec please?"
"Erm okay," I said. I kind
of wanted a drink now, but I could tell Liam had something up his sleeve. That
dimple was on mischief overdrive.
"Are we all here?" Mrs.
Young poked her head in from the back room.
I opened my mouth to answer and was a
bit perplexed when Liam stepped forward, holding up a quieting finger.
"Yes, Mrs. Young, thank you. Everyone's here."
Mrs. Young nodded, eyes twinkling
merrily, and disappeared back into the back room.
"What's going on?" I asked.
Liam held up a finger, and then
raised his voice. "I'd like to propose a toast," he held up his empty
glass. "To Shay."
"You're not drinking
anything."
"You're interrupting," his
eyes glimmered devilishly. He would spank me for this, that was certain. My
legs went to jelly at the thought and I almost missed what he said next.
"Shay, from the moment I met you, you were it for me. No other woman could
measure up to your fire, your drive, your sense of loyalty and purpose."
The back door slammed, but I was too mesmerized by Liam to look. "You make
me better. In every way. In every place." He cleared his throat.
Then he sank to one knee.
My heart tripped over itself as I
watched him take my hand into his. "I need you. I know this. And I will
need you for the rest of my life. I want to spend it with you." He smiled,
"No secrets. I'm asking you out
here in the open, in front of everyone you love, honey. Will you marry
me?"
The burst of applause nearly drowned
out my "Yes!" Liam kissed me, long and hard.
"Wait, where's the ring?"
piped up Jasmine.
"Yeah, we want to see it!"
Kiki hiccuped between sobs.
"Look over here, dear,"
Mrs. Young said.
I turned and gasped. A massive,
ruffled arrangement, nearly as tall as I was. Peonies, the flower of a happy
marriage.
And nestled in the topmost bloom was
the sparkle of my ring,
I kissed him as he slid the ring on,
and pressed tightly to him. "Now we can open the champagne," he
smiled gleefully."
I was crying and laughing and
shaking, but he held me close. I pressed into him, feeling the warmth of his
weight against me, and he felt it too. "I'm sort of regretting not being
more private about this," he growled into my neck, voice tight with
desire.
Just then, the phone rang,
Lily, who had been clapping along
with everyone, froze, eyes shining.
"Go ahead, Lily," I urged
her, wiping away a tear off the end of my nose. "I don't think I could
answer coherently anyway."
She walked to the phone, carrying
herself straight and tall and proud. "Thank you for calling Language of
Flowers, this is Lily. How can I help you?"
THE END
Hey everyone, Mia Caldwell here. I want
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Billionaire’s Desire! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
© 2015 Mia Caldwell
All Rights Reserved. This book or
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Please note that this work is
intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as
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Kindle Edition
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book is dedicated to Theresa. You know why.
-Mia
The Billionaire’s Desire
Prologue
"Yes, thank you. Wednesday at eleven.
See you in four days."
My hands are shaking so badly that I can
barely hang up my phone.
Camilla Easton. I just landed Camilla
Easton's wedding.
I stand up from the desk and look around my
home office. It is as neat as a pin, of course. The walls surrounding me are
hung with my vision boards and whiteboards. But the wall over the desk has the
most important decoration of them all.
My timeline.
"The Path To Success," I titled
it so long ago. Three pieces of posterboard laid end to end, with a single red
line stretching from twenty-three years old to twenty-seven years old. Four
years seemed ample time to me back when I first started Sanniyah Jones Events.
Four years to build my business into a corporation with real employees and
licenses to franchisees along the coast.
Now I was nearing twenty-seven, in three
months as a matter of fact, and I could finally tick off something that had
been lagging all this time.
Land a heavy-weight wedding that would
propel me into the pages of the Styles section.
Idly, I run my finger along the red line.
Everything is finally going according to plan. I trace the line lovingly,
making a tick sound with my mouth as I check everything off, one by one. I have
everything laid out just the way I like, and now that I've landed the Easton
wedding, nothing is going to change that.
Chapter One
Sanniyah
I stop
in the middle of the sidewalk, and shift out of this sea of people. Closing my
eyes I take a deep breath.
"Okay
Yahya, stop panicking."
Clearly
there is no way I can walk to my meeting in time. So rather than show up all
late and sweaty, it's time to switch to plan B.
"Taxi!"
I call, stepping out into the street.
As if
by magic, a taxi rolls smoothly to a stop, and I hop in and settle back in the
seat, relishing the air-conditioning. "14th and Houston, please," I
tell the driver, already adjusting my makeup in my compact mirror.
What's the plan?
Those
words are my mantra, the constant refrain in my brain that has brought me to
where I am today. Planning is what I do, and I'm the best at it. From the
moment I got out of business school, I knew what my plan was: Open my own
business, build my empire, and achieve my dreams.
And
today is it. The linchpin to my dreams. I am scheduled to meet Camilla Easton
in ten minutes.
If I
can just get there in time.
I tap
my fingers against my phone, studiously keeping it close. If I open it and see
the picture of my mother and stepfather on my home screen, I am going to start
crying and that will ruin everything. But even as I fight to keep my cool, my
mother's voice is still echoing in my ear. Last night's conversation was quick
and to the point.
"Yahya, the cancer's back. You need to
be ready to say goodbye."
"No,"
I whisper softly. "Keep it together." I need to be on point. I need
to sparkle and impress, and thoughts of my stepfather's cancer returning are
not going to help that. I need to push that to the back of my brain, at least
until after this meeting.
We are
making good time, until a snarl of downtown traffic catches us in its vise. I
can feel my heart rate starting to rise as the taxi inches along. We are close.
Five minutes. I could probably walk faster.
In
fact, I think I will.
I grab
my phone and briefcase, and fling money at the driver. Slamming the door, I hit
the pavement for the second time today, my heels clacking. The noon sun is
pouring down on me once again, but I think I can make it without her seeing me
sweat.
This is
the biggest break in my career, and everything needs to go according to plan.
When Camilla Easton called me, I had to hold back my disbelief. The Easton
wedding was the event of the year and I had landed it. Every wedding planner in
town had been vying for this one, but in the end she had called Sanniyah Jones
Events.
Me.
If I
play my cards right, this wedding will launch me into the next level. I can
start the next stage of my timeline, licensing my name. Mentally, I make a note
to release a PR statement as soon as I get back to my home office. This wedding
is sure to land me a full page spread in the Styles section and the thought of
the press and tabloid coverage makes me salivate.
And if
Carter Easton shows up at his sister's wedding, that will bring even more press.
That
thought makes my heart race even harder. No one has seen Carter Easton in two
years. He disappeared, completely off of the radar. At the supermarket checkout
the other day, I had actually seen a front page with his smiling face and
picked it up eagerly, only to see that it was a speculation piece about his
metal health. "The Broken Billionaire," they called him. "Why is
Carter Easton Hiding?"
If he appears again at MY event, the press
will go ballistic. Every little detail will be photographed and scrutinized. I
might get TV appearances, consulting fees, my own reality show....
The
thought makes me rush forward, almost sprinting right past the coffee shop
where Camilla and I had agreed to meet. My sudden burst of energy is partly to
do with excitement and partly to do with the ever-present nervousness I have to
suppress every time I meet with one of my new, usually wealthy clients.
And
Camilla Easton is the sister of one of the wealthiest men in the country.
"Yahya,
you are not that girl anymore." I'm mumbling to myself as I hurry down the
sidewalk. "You left that behind you."
Now, if
only I'd believe myself and let go of the small, sad part of me that still held
on to the deprivations of my childhood.
I stop
and collect myself, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the plate glass
window. I tuck a wayward strand of my long, jet black hair behind my ear, and
let the diamond studs wink in the strong sunlight. My makeup still looks
presentable somehow, confirming my belief that it is worth it to spring for the
good stuff, especially on humid days like today. My high cheekbones are still
highlighted with a light dusting of blush that sets off my mocha skin, and my
light brown eyes are accentuated by a slight catlike curve to my dark gray eyeliner.
Everything is still in place, in spite of my nerves. I could use some lip gloss
on my full lips, though.
Unfortunately
I had left that in my other bag. And Camilla Easton, and my dreams, are waiting
for me.
