His Forbidden Heart Read online

  His Forbidden Heart

  A Billionaire Marriage of

  Convenience Romance

  By Aimee Bishop

  I’m unlucky at everything.

  And just when I think things can’t get any worse, the family is struck by a tragedy, one that sends my life spiraling into a nightmare.

  When my sister dies, I’ll think I’ll never recover from the loss, but when I discover I’ll be adopting her baby daughter, Gracie, it seems I’ve got a chance at happiness after all.

  Except there’s one stipulation.

  To raise Gracie, I must move out to the family farm in Solders’ Town, a tiny place with more cows than people and worse Wi-Fi coverage than Mount Everest.

  At least there’s the promise of a comfortable office job.

  Except the boss is a real jerk, an arrogant alpha male who hates everything but money.

  The only problem is that no matter how much I try to hate him, I can’t deny how gorgeous he is.

  And he has a secret.

  A secret that reveals a softer side to him.

  When at last I learn about the man beneath the façade, he has an offer.

  An offer I can’t refuse.

  But will he be everything I hope he can be?

  Or is it possible he could be more?

  © Copyright 2018 by Aimee Bishop - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Published by Sasha O’Hara, LLC

  www.sashasworldofromance.com

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5 – One Month Later

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9 – One Week Later

  Chapter 10 – Six Weeks Later

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13 – 1 Month Later

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  "Oh, my God. I needed this."

  I watched as Cheryl slid a margarita across the table. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. A magical elixir waiting to take all my problems away.

  "Not as much as I do," she said, holding the straw up to her lips. "Okay, on the count of three. One, two..."

  "Three!"

  We both sucked on the straws, and I didn't stop until the glass was half-empty. It was so sweet and soothing, the perfect end to the worst day.

  "So, why are you so miserable?" asked Cheryl.

  "Work, as per usual. My boss keeps giving me these ridiculous tasks, picks on me for the smallest thing and makes up all these stupid rules. Like, get this. We're not allowed to eat at our desks anymore."

  "Whaaaat!"

  Cheryl's mouth dropped open as though I’d just offended her mother.

  "Not eating at your desk. That must be against the Geneva Convention. I'm sure of it."

  "Right? It's ridiculous. And then there are the looks."

  "The looks?"

  "He stares at my ass all the time like it's food. It's like he's trying to eat me with his eyes."

  Cheryl burst out laughing and slapped the table, attracting the attention of the girls in the booth beside us. The four of them were freakishly thin with their hair scraped back into tight buns so their faces were so taut they can barely speak or smile. The ultimate low budget facelift.

  "Don't pay attention to them," said Cheryl.

  "I'm not."

  "I saw the way you were looking at them."

  "Shut up, Cheryl."

  She knew me a little too well. We’d grown up together and had known each other since we were in diapers, and sometimes I thought she knew what I was thinking before I did. I watched as she finished her drink, her charm bracelet tinkling against the side of the glass. I saw the silver letters BFF catch the light and looked at my matching bracelet.

  "You know I love you down to your bones," I said.

  I tended to get a bit emotional after having a drink.

  "Shut up, Steph."

  "No, really I do. Who else would bring me here after work to cheer me up? Who else would put up with my nonsense?"

  She laughed again, this time silently.

  "Hey, I've been putting up with your nonsense since before you were wearing a bra. I'll always be here for you."

  She pulled an ice cube out of her glass and flung it at me. It landed right in the center of my cleavage, and I squealed as I pulled it free.

  "Bitch! It's freezing!"

  The girls beside us glanced over again, all long eyelashes, lithe limbs and snooty, turned up noses.

  "Urgh, what's their problem?" I moaned.

  "Don't pay any attention to them."

  "I can't help it."

  I watched them out the corner of my eye, seeing how their fake tans sparkled in the dim light and how their tiny bodies were squeezed into the smallest dresses.

  "Stop it," said Cheryl.

  "What?"

  "Thinking about them."

  "I'm not!"

  She rolled her eyes and signaled to the waiter to bring two more drinks. He gave her a wink as he walked away. She always did attract the sleaziest men.

  "You think they're prettier than you," she said.

  "I do not."

  But I did. I couldn't help it. They were all thinner than me, and younger too. I missed the days when I could eat an entire package of cookies and not put on a pound. I missed the days when simply being twenty-one was enough to be attractive.

  "They're all smoke and mirrors," said Cheryl. "I'd love to see what they look like under all that makeup. And by the gist of their conversation, they've got so much air in their heads I'm surprised they haven’t floated away."

  I couldn't help but smile. She always was so good at saying the right thing to make me laugh.

  "You're better looking than they could ever be. You know that, right?"

  I pursed my lips and looked down into my drink. I'd never felt pretty. Never felt as though I could be one of those girls.

  "Right?"

  She kicked me under the table.

  "Right," I grumbled.

  Two more drinks arrived, and the waiter lingered a moment longer than he had to. Probably so he could look at Cheryl. His eyes traveled the length of her shapely legs before resting on her chest.

  "Hey, you'll have to tip me if you keep looking at me like that," she said, feigning offense but I could tell she loved the attention.

  Deep down within my purse, my phone began to ring, and I knew who it was.

  "Boss?" asked Cheryl.

  "Yeah. It has to be. No one else calls me at this time of night apart from you, and you're here."

  "Not going to answer it?"

  "Hell, no. I can't stand the thought of hearing my boss’s voice."

  I let the phone ring some more, feeling my purse vibrate against my thigh. Go away, I thought. You're ruining my buzz.

  "So, any luck the other night?" asked Cheryl.

  "The other night..."

  I tapped my tongue against my teeth as I remembered. It all came back to me, the most ridiculous experience of my life. A date so messed up, I would have rather stayed at home and read the dictionary.

  "Oh, my God, Cheryl. It was the worst!"

  "Tell me everything."

  She shifted in her seat
as she got herself more comfortable, ready to hear the epic tale of my misery.

  "Okay, so I got that dating app like you told me."

  "Luster?"

  "Yep. It's full of weirdos, Cheryl. What the hell? How can you go on so many dates?"

  She shrugged.

  "Anyway, this guy sends me a picture."

  "Cute?"

  "Meh. He looked okay. His name was Simon, worked in finance and was divorced."

  "Was he old?"

  Cheryl was now hooked and leaned in closer.

  "Thirty-three," I said. "Same as me. He looked so normal and quite lovely."

  She leaned in even closer, the sound of her straw sucking up air the only noise between us. I could see her eyes flash in that way they did when she heard the juiciest pieces of gossip.

  "Sooo, where did he take you?"

  "Actually, I took him," I said. "To the steakhouse on Main Street."

  "Nice. I love that place."

  "Me too. Except when we get there, he tells me he's a vegan."

  "Bummer..."

  She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  "Okay, so he's sitting there, chewing on a side order of fries. I don't care that he never mentioned to tell me he doesn't eat meat, or that he's a teetotaler."

  "What? He's a teetotaler?"

  "And gluten intolerant. Anyway, I'm not really caring about any of that stuff, but then he says he's forgotten his wallet."

  "Oh... my God."

  "And that he has to be home by eight."

  Cheryl closed her eyes and raised her face to the ceiling as though she was waiting for the healing light of heaven to wash over her.

  "This sounds like the worst."

  "It was, but like an idiot, I thought that maybe things could work out. That was until he told me about his hobby."

  She opened her eyes and met my gaze.

  "Hobby? Please don't tell me he microwaved butterflies in his spare time?"

  "Erm, no, Cheryl. I'm pretty sure vegans don't microwave butterflies. No, I think it's weirder than that."

  Her eyes widened in terror, and she leaned even further until her nose was only inches from mine.

  "Worse?"

  "He said he was..."

  As I prepare myself to tell her, I think that she probably won't even believe me. She'll think I'm making it up. Either that or she'd never let me live it down.

  "He said he was a merman."

  She froze and just blinked at me.

  "What did you just say?"

  "He said he was a merman. Like... he has a fake fishtail and everything, and he goes down to the beach and pretends to be a mermaid or merman or whatever and just splashes around. Apparently, there's quite a fetish for stuff like that."

  She was still blinking at me, still staring at me as though I'd lost my mind.

  "Merman," she repeated, as though she was trying to process just what that meant.

  "Here, look at the photo he sent me."

  I pulled out my phone and saw I had three missed calls, all from a number I didn't recognize. Weird, I thought. Maybe my boss has a new number. I ignored the calls and started searching through my photos.

  "See?"

  I thrust the screen into her face and there in all its glory was a photograph of my date sprawled out on the rocks at the beach with a turquoise, sequined fishtail strapped around his waist. She looked at it for a minute, squinting as though she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. Then she gasped, a great big wheezing gasp that made her clap a hand to her mouth.

  "Ahhhh!"

  "What?"

  "I know him!"

  "No, you don't, Cheryl!"

  "I do. I do!"

  She started flapping her hands in front of her face, jumping up and down in her seat.

  "I went on a date with him!"

  As if this story couldn't get any worse.

  "You're not serious?!"

  "I am," she said. "We went out for coffee last summer and he was a total creep. I ended up saying goodbye before my latte had even cooled down."

  Just my luck, I thought. My first online date is not only a weirdo, but he's a weirdo my best friend has also dated. I promptly deleted his photo before knocking back my drink, and just as I was about to thrust my phone back into my purse, it rang in my hand.

  "Huh, I still don't know who that is," I said.

  "Probably a call center," said Cheryl.

  There were tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. Once my phone stopped, I shoved it back in my purse hoping it wouldn't ring again.

  "How come some people are just so lucky in love," I mused. "And then there's... us."

  "I know! It's so unfair. Your sister and David are the prime examples of that."

  She was right. Suzanna and David started dating in high school, got married at nineteen and were still together. They'd never been happier, and every time they looked at each other, there was still the same sparkle in their eyes like when they first met.

  "Suzanna and David are an exception," I said. "Most people will never find love like that."

  My phone started ringing again.

  "Shit, I wish whoever this was would go away."

  "You better answer it."

  "I hate answering numbers I don't know."

  Cheryl swiped a lip gloss wand across her lips and pouted into the front view camera of her phone.

  "It might be important," she said.

  "Doubt it. Nothing ever happens to me."

  Still, the phone continued to ring, and Cheryl was right, maybe it was important. I cast my mind back to all the jobs I'd applied for over the summer and thought maybe it was something to do with that. Of course, I knew that was nonsense. Who calls at this time of night, months after someone applied for a job?

  I hummed and hawed for a moment, all the while, my phone continued to vibrate.

  "I swear to God, Steph. If you don't answer it, I will. It's driving me nuts."

  "Fine, I'll get it," I said as I slid off my stool. "Back in a minute."

  Stepping outside to where it was quiet, I finally tapped to answer and waited impatiently.

  "Hello?"

  "Um, hello. Is that Stephanie Goldman?"

  "Yes... Who is this?"

  "I'm sorry to bother you but..."

  The voice was distorted as the line began to break up. In the background, there was the sound of people milling about and shouting over the top of one another. Beeping sounds punctuated the crackling phone line.

  "Stephanie? Are you with someone right now?"

  "Who is this!"

  Whoever it was took a deep breath then came out with it, talking so fast everything came out in one long sentence.

  "I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but you were listed as the next of kin on the form. Your sister Suzanna was in an accident with her husband. I'm afraid he didn't make it."

  The wall beside me started to spin, I slapped a hand to it to steady myself, but I was sure I was going to collapse. Stumbling over to a nearby bench, I fell onto it and pressed the phone up to my ear even harder.

  "What? Are you saying... Are you saying David's dead?"

  "I'm so sorry," said the voice.

  "And Suzanna? She'll be okay, won't she? Tell me she'll be okay!"

  There was silence on the end of the line for a moment. Tears were streaming down my face, but I didn't realize I was crying until I heard the sound of my teardrops falling onto the tops of my leather shoes.

  "Hello?"

  "I'm afraid she doesn't have long," said the voice. "I'd suggest you come right away."

  The world was falling away from beneath me, my body going into shock as I tried to understand what was happening.

  "I'm on my way," I said. "Tell her I'm coming."

  Chapter 2

  I don't remember telling Cheryl that I was leaving, but she’d grabbed her bag and insisted on coming with me. I don't even remember the cab ride to the hospital. All I remember was rushing into th
e intensive care unit, taking the stairs two at a time before pushing my way through the double doors. My heart was beating so fast I thought I would faint. I couldn't see straight; my hands were shaking uncontrollably, and my legs felt as though they were filled with water.

  "You must be Stephanie?" came a voice.

  I spun around and saw a tall, gray-haired man in a white coat with a clipboard pressed to his chest.

  "You called me," I said.

  He could see the tears streaking my face, could see how terrified I was. Placing a hand on my arm, he guided me down the hall.

  "Doctor Bertram," he said as he shook my hand. "I'm so sorry."

  "What happened?"

  I still couldn't believe where I was. There was a part of me that was sure it was a mistake, that there was a mix-up. My sister was probably still at home with David, watching TV with their daughter, Gracie and laughing like they always did. I could tell her all about this tomorrow and we'd both chuckle at the stupid mistake the hospital made. Of course David wasn't dead. Of course she wasn't lying in a hospital bed.

  "A drunk driver swerved into them," said the doctor. "David was driving and took the brunt of the impact. I'm afraid he died instantly."

  "No... Are you sure? You're talking about David Collins, right?"

  He looked down at his clipboard and flipped through the pages.

  "Date of birth, May first nineteen-eighty-two?"

  That was his birthday. This was the same David. All I could do was nod my head.

  "That's him," I said. “Where’s the baby?”

  Dr. Bertram frowned down at me for a moment, his brow furrowed in consternation. “Baby?” he asked.

  “Their daughter, Gracie,” I told him, not bothering to keep the impatience from my voice. “She’s just six months old.”

  His face softened for a moment with a look of regret that sent a pang through my heart. But then he shook his head. “There was no baby,” he said. “She must not have been with them.”

  Cheryl looked as panicked as I felt– she reached out to grasp my shoulder gently even as she was backing toward the door. “I’ll figure it out,” she said, rummaging through her bag for her phone.

  “How?” My voice sounded unnatural, even to my own ears, spiked with fear and devastation.

  “I’ll call your mom, we’ll figure out who Suze normally left Gracie with,” Cheryl said, talking fast as she reached for the door handle. “I’ll figure it out.”’