The American Heir: A Jet City Billionaire Romance

  I flicked my flashlight on and pulled the goggles off, less out of consideration for him and more for comfort. I let them hang around my neck as he closed the lighter.

  "I assume it's safe to have a light on here?" I said.

  He shrugged, studying me closely and smiling. "As safe as anything." His expression softened as he examined me. "You look like me. But there are traces of your mum in you."

  "Don't mention her. Don't talk about her. Don't pretend you cared about her." I refused to tell him she'd longed for him until the end. I refused to let him know he'd broken her heart.

  "Ah, it's that way, then, is it?" He nodded. "It's good you're defending your mum. I'm sorry she's gone."

  Maybe he was, but only in a peripheral, abstract way. I changed the subject before I gave in to my desire to take a swing at him. "How long have you been hanging around here? You're scaring Haley. And how have you managed to avoid the security cameras and security details?"

  "Sorry to upset my beautiful daughter-in-law. That wasn't my intention. She's very perceptive. I only wanted to see her and my boy." He winked. "You know the answer to your first question." He sounded amused. "Since your honeymoon."

  There was a chill in the tower. It crept down my back at the thought of my father watching our every move. And yet I had suspected it for some time. "And the security cameras and guards?" I paused. "You obviously have a key to the tower. But how did you get past security?"

  He shrugged. "It was part of the deal the Dead Duke gave me to disappear. I can come home to this place any time I like, as long as I'm not seen. As you say, I have a key to the tower. And I know these grounds as well as anyone. The late duke made sure of that.

  "He arranged the security cameras so that they have blind spots and I can avoid them at will. He gave me the plans and arranged the security details to leave me alone.

  "This tower, with its history and its hauntings, is the perfect hideaway for a dead man like me. It was easy enough for him to order the tower locked at all times. Who would want to visit a haunted tower, anyway? Only the bravest.

  "Everything was fine until you came along and started playing havoc with the security teams, changing things up, and making it more risky for me to stay here."

  "You're not afraid to stay here?" I was curious.

  "With the ghosts?" He laughed again. "I'm no coward. And not afraid of the supernatural. This place is nothing more than a creaky old building."

  "It's not exactly homey."

  "This room isn't part of my main quarters. There's a secret room accessible only by a hidden door. It was built as a place for the duke and his family to hide. That's where I live when I'm here. It's windowless, but quite comfortable. Fully plumbed. With Internet access and electricity. All I need now is for you to call off all this extra security you've been adding."

  I stared him down. "Not so fast. What do you want?" I clutched the rifle tightly. "Money? Or are you here to claim the title?"

  His booming laughter echoed off the walls. "No thanks, Your Grace. The title's all yours, you little American shit," he said affectionately.

  "Good to hear, you old British bastard. You haven't answered my question."

  "There was a time when I was young and impressionable that I could picture myself as lord of the castle, sure enough. Until it was explained to me by our late predecessor how my life would be if I didn't step aside. The late duke was never keen on me inheriting this beautiful estate. Though I can't imagine why." He laughed robustly.

  "The bloody controlling old man." He shook his head, but it was as if he was mocking himself. "Once he laid it out, and detailed the responsibilities, I didn't want the dukedom after all. Like father, like son."

  I balled my fist, trying to control my temper. We weren't alike at all. I had never wanted the dukedom. Nor even known it was going to be mine. He had wanted it at one point for its treasures. I didn't want it because of the obligation.

  "The old Dead Duke—isn't that what you call him?—made it clear that I'd be left with an albatross around my neck and not much more. He didn't trust me with his legacy. Or cash."

  "On that point we agree." I shifted the rifle.

  "But he trusts you. He wouldn't have left me a penny to enjoy." His eyes sparkled maliciously, filled with jealousy and envy. "He left things to you all neat and tidy, though, didn't he, son?" He scoffed. "As if you needed more money."

  "I earned what I have," I said as evenly as I could, trying not to let shock and anger get the best of me. "You sure as hell didn't leave me anything or give me a grand start in life."

  He didn't have the good grace to flinch. He'd left Mom and me in dire straits. She'd scrimped and barely eked out a meager living for us my entire childhood. And all the while he'd been the heir to a fortune. I wondered if Mom even knew about it.

  "As for me—the Dead Duke blackmailed me into taking the title and estate. I never wanted it." Until now.

  Being reminded of my childhood gave me clarity. Haley was right—I had no right to squander our child's inheritance. It was up to them to decide what to do with it.

  My father raised an eyebrow. "You don't want it, you say? If that's true, why didn't you bring security with you?

  "You don't seem particularly surprised to see me. And you obviously weren't expecting a dangerous intruder or you'd have sent security to handle it. Could it be that you're afraid you'll lose the castle and title if it's discovered that I'm still alive?"

  His accusation hit too close to home. I didn't want him to be discovered. Not yet. We had unfinished business.

  I pointed an accusing finger at him. "And if you wanted the title only, you'd have gone public as soon as the Dead Duke died and staked your claim. If you don't want the title, you must want money."

  "You don't give me much credit." He shook his head. "You disappoint me, duke. I thought you were brighter than that. How do you think the Dead Duke got rid of me?"

  It was apparently a rhetorical question. He answered before I could open my mouth to respond.

  "He made it worth my while. And ensured I didn't burn through my payout. I have enough to last until I die and live quite comfortably. It's doled out as an allowance. But you can't have everything." He laughed again. "The old man didn't trust me to manage my own finances any more than he did to manage the dukedom."

  I didn't respond. On this point the Dead Duke and I were in total agreement. My father would have lost the estate within a year at most.

  Thorne must have known about this arrangement between the Dead Duke and his true heir. Which was why Thorne hadn't denied that my dad was still alive. His attitude and manner had all but warned me to back off the matter and let sleeping secrets lie.

  "No matter," dear old Dad said. "I won't live much longer. Not long enough to cause you terrible trouble, anyway." He sounded surprisingly amused. "Since my time on this earth grows short, there's no reason to take the title away from you. It will be yours in a few months anyway. Well before the courts can make any sense of a dead man coming back to life." He clasped my shoulder.

  I shook his hand off and jerked away from him. What did he expect? Whether he was really dying or not was of little relevance to me. As far as I was concerned, he was an unpleasant stranger. I had only the natural sympathy any person has for someone who was dying.

  Reading my face, he sighed. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather remain dead. It's much more fun. I can haunt this place at my leisure."

  I stared him down, fighting my warring emotions. If he really was dying, I should have felt more compassion for him. Or at least checked to make sure the condition wasn't hereditary. As it was, I wasn't certain this wasn't another scam. "If you don't want money, why are you here?"

  "Isn't that obvious?" His gaze held mine. For once he looked completely serious. There was something desperate in his eyes. "I wanted to meet my grown son, my only child. My legacy. Make my peace with you. Once I'm gone you'll be all that's left of me, Riggins.

  "For a while
, anyway. Until my grandchild is born." He paused, suddenly thoughtful and contemplative. Finally, he sighed. "I've never been much of a father—"

  "You haven't been one at all—"

  He held up a hand to silence me. "True enough. But in my middle age, I find I have a strange desire to know my grandchild and pass on a few life lessons. Fate is going to deny me that. The best I can do is meet my grandchild before I go. I want your word you'll let me see the baby."

  I bit my tongue to keep from exploding. When negotiating, especially with a family terrorist, never show your weakness.

  He laughed softly before I could answer. "I see myself in you. Conniving must be hereditary. You're trying to puzzle out how to outwit me."

  I wasn't flattered.

  "You don't want me to see my grandchild. That's plain enough to someone like me. What are you afraid of? I don't have enough time left to corrupt the little bugger."

  "I don't owe you anything." I tried to swallow my anger. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. "I have no reason to trust you to keep your end of the bargain."

  He stared me down. "No, I suppose not." His grin was quick. "You don't think I've reformed. I can't say as I blame you. I'm not sure I have, either. But running out on a grandbaby is different than deserting a son. A grandchild isn't the same responsibility, but it is my second and last chance at making things right."

  He paused. "It's a fair bet you'll be making. You agree to let me see the baby. I agree not to make myself known. If the doctors are right, you'll never have to pay out on your end of the bargain. They don't give me more than a few months."

  He shook his head. "My doctors scolded me for hard living and blame it on that. The smoking and drinking. The womanizing, maybe, too." He sighed, shaking his head again and wearing a small smile. "Those pompous medical professionals have warned me that my heart may not be strong enough for sex. If that doesn't sound like a commercial for male enhancement drugs—" A fit of coughing mixed with laughter clipped his words.

  I didn't find it uproarious at all.

  He pulled out a tissue and wiped his mouth. "Warnings won't stop me. I'd rather die in the act than abstain." He winked. "If sex doesn't kill me, I have advanced, incurable lung cancer and cirrhosis of the liver. One of those will do the job for you soon enough. I can't go back on my word even if I want to. I don't have enough time left."

  I didn't give a damn about his health, except to hope he wasn't lying about dying. "It's a comfort to know I can always kill you with a well-timed visit from a prostitute. I always knew sex could be used as a weapon, but this is a little extreme."

  He laughed. "I see you have my wicked sense of humor." He paused and became serious. "Promise me I can see my grandchild, and I'll stay dead until I really am."

  Haley

  I hurried to the Ghost Tower to confirm my suspicions. The outside air was chill and the grass and ground cold through my thin slippers. I clasped my robe tightly at my neck as I ran toward the tower.

  It wasn't easy running with the extra weight and girth of the baby. I felt strangely off balance. My body was growing too fast for me to get used to my new shape at any given moment. As I ran, or maybe jogged was a better description, I held my baby bump with one hand, feeling like my baby was sloshing around in there. One thing was certain—I didn't have world-class running form.

  I was breathing hard by the time I reached the tower. And was warm and flushed from the brief bout of exercise. My heart stopped as approached the door and found it flung wide open.

  I hesitated on the doorstep, listening and trying to hear as my heart galloped back into action and my hands trembled. I'd come woefully unprepared to meet either human or supernatural foes.

  I glanced around, looking for a weapon, and found only a few pebbles. If I hadn't been panicked, I would have laughed at the absurdity of thinking I could fend off anybody with a few pieces of gravel.

  The baby kicked, reminding me I had more than myself to think about. I gasped and leaned against the outside wall. There was only one thing to do.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and called security. "The door to the Ghost Tower is standing wide open." I sounded both breathless and desperate. "Come immediately. But be careful. I think the duke may be inside."

  A security camera over the door moved until it zoomed in on me.

  "We have you on camera. Stay where you are, Your Grace," the guard in the control room said. "I'm sending help."

  I hung up. Of course, I probably should have done as he said. But Riggins was in there. What was he up to? What if he needed me? What if he needed help now?

  I slipped inside and stood in the main room, listening for a clue. At first I heard only the frightening sounds the tower was known for. The creaks and groans of age. The musings of the ancient stone walls that heightened its reputation for being haunted.

  I was about to call out when I heard, very faintly, echoes of voices volleying down the stairwell. Two male voices, to be exact. One of them was Riggins'.

  I restrained myself. What if this other man was dangerous?

  I took a deep breath to give me courage and quietly mounted the stairs. The stone stairs were worn smooth and slippery, grooved and sloping in the centers from the thousands of footsteps they'd borne. Rutted like roads that needed resurfacing.

  I slipped once or twice on the narrow wedges that wound around, catching myself in time and proceeding more cautiously. My slippers had slick soles, which made for slow progress in the first place. I kept one hand on the wall, clutching the stonework as well as I could for balance. I made a note to have a handrail installed.

  I followed the voices to the third floor. As I approached, I saw light spilling as if from a flashlight into the stairwell and the voices grew loud and heated. There were no halls in the tower. All the chambers were directly off the stairwell.

  I hid just outside the large chamber, listening and trying to get a peek at what was inside without being seen. Riggins had his back to me. The other man was obscured from view.

  "Are you blackmailing me?" Riggins' voice was hard and angry.

  "I prefer to think of it as cutting you a deal," the other man said. He sounded almost amused. And confident he'd get his way. His voice was deep with middle age. "I may not have been much of a father, but I did die for you. Remember that. You owe me something."

  Father? My mouth fell open and went completely dry. I tried to remember what Riggins had said about his dad. I thought he was dead. Of course he was dead! Otherwise Riggins couldn’t be the duke.

  "Died for me?" Riggins snorted. "You faked your death for profit."

  My heart raced. If Riggins' dad was still alive, Riggins wasn't the duke. This whole thing, everything we'd done and been through, was for nothing. His father would destroy the dukedom before Riggins inherited it. It was mine. My family legacy.

  My mind raced, but I couldn't think straight. What should I do? What did I dare do?

  "Semantics." Riggins' dad wasn't backing down. "What will it be? Is taking revenge on your old dad and denying him his last wish worth your birthright and a dukedom?"

  My heart beat so loudly in my ears I could barely hear anything else. I shook so badly I had to hang on to the wall. I waited breathlessly for Riggins' response. My heart was so loud I marveled that it didn't give me away. I stood poised, ready to rush in and intervene. Ready to promise Riggins' dad anything he wanted if he would leave and leave the dukedom to Riggins.

  "You arrogant bastard." Riggins' voice was hard. "This dukedom is mine. For Haley. For my baby. For myself."

  Tears filled my eyes. How was it possible to be ecstatic and frightened at the same time? Riggins wants the dukedom.

  "You have a deal." Riggins' voice was still as sharp and hard as a polished steel blade.

  I slumped against the wall, my knees weak with relief. Riggins' response was the answer to a prayer. The granting of a wish. And then I remembered that security was on its way. That I had quite possibly called down the destruc
tion of everything the Dead Duke had set up and planned for us. Destroyed what I'd so desperately come to love.

  The baby kicked again, once again taking me by surprise. I let out a small noise.

  "Who's that?" Riggins' father moved toward the door.

  I stepped out of hiding and into the doorway.

  "Haley?" Riggins took a step toward me.

  "There's no time. We have to hide your dad. Security will be here any minute."

  Chapter 13

  Haley

  The two men stared at me in disbelief. Riggins' dad actually got a soft, emotional look on his face as his gaze travelled to my baby bump.

  The sound of a car racing toward the tower made us all jump.

  "That's security!" I gave the men an entreating look. "I'm sorry. I called them. I didn't know." I glanced around frantically at the bare room, looking for something, anything to hide a man in. "We have to hurry!"

  Why didn't anyone else feel my sense of urgency?

  Riggins pulled me to him and crushed me against his chest. "You're freezing. You shouldn't be out in the cold like this."

  "I'm fine. Or I will be once we hide your dad." My voice broke. I loved Riggins beyond reason. We were on the verge of our happily ever after. He wanted the dukedom! He wanted us. I wanted him. What more could I ask for?

  Riggins' dad swore. "Bloody security. The bane of my nonexistence." He winked at me. "Nice to finally meet you, daughter." He nodded toward my baby bump. "May I? I'd like to feel my grandchild. This may be the only chance I get."

  Riggins scowled at him. But I had sympathy for his dad. If he'd made a mistake with his son, he at least deserved a chance to make it up to his grandchild. I wanted to be able to tell my baby that his only living grandparent had wanted to hold him or her. I wasn't going to be the one who denied this dying man his wish or ruined the story for the future.

  I pulled away from Riggins and presented my growing belly for him to touch. His large hands were warm and gentle as he cupped my belly.