Shattered Daddy: A Billionaire Suspense Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Brooke

  Chapter Two - Anthony

  Chapter Three - Brooke

  Chapter Four - Anthony

  Chapter Five - Brooke

  Chapter Six - Anthony

  Chapter Seven - Brooke

  Chapter Eight - Anthony

  Chapter Nine - Brooke

  Chapter Ten - Anthony

  Chapter Eleven - Brooke

  Chapter Twelve - Anthony

  Chapter Thirteen - Brooke

  Chapter Fourteen - Anthony

  Chapter Fifteen - Brooke

  Chapter Sixteen - Anthony

  Chapter Seventeen - Brooke

  Chapter Eighteen - Anthony

  Epilogue - Brooke

  Copyright © 2017 by Heartbeat Reads - 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.

  Shattered Daddy

  A Billionaire Suspense Romance

  By: Charlize Starr

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Brooke

  Chapter Two - Anthony

  Chapter Three - Brooke

  Chapter Four - Anthony

  Chapter Five - Brooke

  Chapter Six - Anthony

  Chapter Seven - Brooke

  Chapter Eight - Anthony

  Chapter Nine - Brooke

  Chapter Ten - Anthony

  Chapter Eleven - Brooke

  Chapter Twelve - Anthony

  Chapter Thirteen - Brooke

  Chapter Fourteen - Anthony

  Chapter Fifteen - Brooke

  Chapter Sixteen - Anthony

  Chapter Seventeen - Brooke

  Chapter Eighteen - Anthony

  Epilogue - Brooke

  Specially Selected Bonus Content

  Contemporary Romance Collection

  Contemporary Romance: Daddy's Business Friend

  Secret Baby Sports Romance: Football Daddy

  Billionaire Romance: The Boss's Game

  About Charlize Starr

  Selected Other Books by Charlize Starr

  Join the Heartbeat Reads Readers Club now if you want to receive 3 EXCLUSIVE hot contemporary romance short stories for FREE and get notifications of new releases and promotions.

  Chapter One - Brooke

  It’s hot and sticky in the car, and the lukewarm air blowing out of my air conditioner only makes it feel hotter. I need to pick up some fluid, but I’ve been trying to wait until my paycheck lands this Friday. I roll down my windows and sigh. The air is muggy with thick clouds in the sky and doesn’t do much to cool me down. At least it’s only a short drive from work to my apartment. I try to block out the heat, thinking of what I’ll make for dinner and what I’ll wear to work tomorrow, when I notice a terrible and familiar sight.

  I’m being followed. Again. I know who it is without having to look at the driver.

  I speed home as fast as I can, that awful motorcycle behind me the whole time. I grab my purse and run inside when I get home, hoping he doesn’t call out after me. He doesn’t. He parks his bike across the street and stares at me. I swear I can feel his eyes on me even after I close the door. He’s relentless, and it’s been getting worse. I know he wants me to be nervous and to take his threats seriously. I hate to say it, but it’s working. I am nervous. I’m honestly and truly terrified – really.

  Leave it to Jeff to make what was already the worst night of my life even worse. Leave it to him to turn a tragedy into a sick plan for his own gain. He didn’t even know the whole story, but ever since he’d seen me with that gun, Jeff had made my life a living hell. If I hadn’t hated him already for how he treated me when we were dating, I would have hated him for this.

  I shudder, not wanting to turn and look out the window to see if he’s still there, but knowing he probably is. My phone rings and I answer right away when I see that it’s my sister, Autumn.

  “I think there is a police officer following me,” Autumn says instead of saying hello. She sounds like she’s been crying. I sit down on the couch and shake my head.

  “No one is following you, I promise,” I say. Autumn’s been crying a lot lately, breaking down with the intense panic that’s followed her since that night.

  “They are, and they’re going to find out. They’re going to find out what I did, and I’m going to go to jail. We’re both going to go to jail!” Autumn says. She sounds slightly hysterical. I take a long breath, wondering if Jeff is still across the street.

  “They’re not going to find out, and we’re not going to jail,” I say. I don’t blame her for being scared. It scares me too. I’m not going to let anything happen to Autumn, though. And since right now the only person who knows we have any connection that night and to the dead body from it is Jeff, I intend to keep it that way.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Autumn says. She’s hardly left the house since it happened, only going to work, not seeing friends. There was a time when Autumn was so much brighter and bolder than me – looking to go back to college, filled with dreams and ambitions. She’s a shell of that girl now. I think that maybe if I can get Jeff to stop, she’ll feel better and get back to being herself. I just don’t know how I’m going to do that.

  “This isn’t your fault, and nothing is going to happen. I’m going to take care of it,” I tell her.

  “It is my fault! I shot him, Brooke!” Autumn says, whispering even though I know she’s home alone.

  “You had to. It was self-defense,” I say firmly. I can still picture the night in my mind, my sister with a man twice her size on top of her, me attempting to fight him off. I can still feel the way his hand felt when his fist made contact with my jaw. I can feel the terror of watching his hands slide around Autumn’s neck, choking her. I can hear the gunshot ringing out and Autumn’s panicked whisper. I can see Jeff walking in, seeing me holding the gun I’d taken out of Autumn’s hand.

  “I thought I was going to die,” Autumn says. Jeff thinks I killed that guy since he walked in on me holding the gun. I don’t want him to know the truth. I don’t want anyone to know. Autumn is my younger sister and she’s been through a lot I couldn’t protect her from. I’m not going to let this destroy her. I can’t.

  “I know you did. You did what you had to do,” I say firmly.

  “But if someone finds out,” Autumn says. I think she’s crying again. Her voice sounds raw – like her throat is irritated from choking on tears and terror.

  “No one is going to find out,” I say. “I swear.”

  “You can’t be sure of that,” Autumn says.

  “I am sure,” I say. I think that if I say it enough, maybe it will be true. Maybe I really can keep this from hurting Autumn even more than it already has.

  “I hate going out. I always feel watched,” Autumn says.

  “You’re not being watched,” I say. She’s not only because I am, but I don’t say that. “And you can’t stay in all the time.”

  “I wish I could,” Autumn says, sniffling a little. “I did hear something very interesting today, though.”

  “Oh yeah?” I say. I doubt I’ll be interested in whatever gossip she heard, but I ask anyway, hoping the subject change will make her feel better.

  “You know that huge house on Hart Lane?” she asks. I nod, thinking of the grand mansion with its sprawling yard. It’s the biggest house in town, beautiful and rich in history, but no one
has lived there for years.

  “What about it?” I ask. I heard a rumor a few months back that the house was up for sale again, but I didn’t think anything had come from it.

  “Someone bought it. Someone you know very well,” Autumn says. I frown, not sure who she could mean.

  “Someone I know?” I ask, confused.

  “Anthony. Your friend Anthony? I heard he’ll back in town within the week,” Autumn says. “Did know he was rich these days?”

  “I did know that,” I say slowly, feeling surprised.

  Anthony was my best friend growing up and all through high school. We’d lost touch over the years, but I knew he’d made really good money in New York and that he had a son with a woman who had died tragically a few years back. I’ve always regretted that we hadn’t stayed close. There had been a time when Anthony and I knew everything about each other – when he was the first person I thought to call when anything, good or bad, happened. I wondered if we could still be friends as adults.

  We’d promised to always be friends the last time I’d seen him. We’d promised each other a lot of things when we were kids, and most of them hadn’t come true. I remember how tightly we’d hugged each other, both getting ready to go to college. We’d sworn we’d talk every day, and we had for a while . . . until we hadn’t anymore. Until it had been weeks, and then months, and then years since we’d last spoken. It happened so slowly that I’d hardly felt how much I missed him until it was too late. Until it had been so long that it would have been strange to reach out. We both got busy, working summers, taking internships. He’d moved to New York to get his master’s, and as far as I knew, he hasn’t been back in town for more than a day at a time since.

  “You should get together, catch up with him when he gets back,” Autumn says, cutting into my thoughts.

  “Maybe,” I say.

  “I wonder what he looks like now. He was always cute,” Autumn says. I flush, glad my sister can’t see me. I’d thought so too, and I’d thought it a lot. For a while, I’d thought maybe Anthony and I, one day, could be more than friends, but I’d never wanted to say anything and ruin what we had.

  “You were thirteen the last time you saw him,” I point out, and Autumn laughs. I’m glad to hear it.

  “Old enough to know he was cute,” Autumn says. I smile to myself. I’ve never admitted how I used to feel about Anthony, but I’d rather talk to my sister about cute guys than the police and guns and attacks. It almost feels normal.

  “Who else did you think was hot when you were thirteen?” I ask, hoping to keep it going. Autumn goes with it like she needs to feel normal for a while too, and we talk about all the boys we used to know all evening.

  It keeps the thought of gunshots and motorcycles and the terror of dead bodies off my mind. For a while, at least.

  Chapter Two - Anthony

  My office has been like a second home for years, so watching the movers take it apart, box by box, is a strange experience. I’ve spent a lot of time in this room with its giant sun-soaked windows looking down at the busy Manhattan streets below – its lush blue carpeting and its expensive imported furniture. The furniture is going with me, but everything else is about to be totally different. I have to fight the urge to tell the movers to box things differently, the urge to jump and do it myself. I’ve paid them too much money for that, and even if I never would have stacked boxes in that order, or used that size box for the files . . . They’re highly recommended. They’re supposed to be the best.

  I’m grateful for the distraction when my secretary, Natalie, approaches me, smiling.

  “I was hoping you had time for a private goodbye,” she says, putting a hand on my arm. I grin. Natalie and I have had sex several times in the past year or so – incredibly casual and with no strings. In most offices, that might be frowned upon, but since this office, this whole business, is entirely mine, there is no one to tell me or Natalie that we can’t have some fun every once in a while.

  “I think I might,” I say, letting my eyes traverse Natalie’s body. She’s looking extra sexy today, and I grin. She’s always sexy, always perfectly groomed, dressed in skirts that flatter her curves. Today is no exception. The heels she wears make her legs look as if they go on for miles, and her hair is pulled back on top of her head, exposing the tempting skin of her shoulders and neck to me.

  “Excellent,” Natalie says, walking toward the boardroom, swinging her hips as she does.

  She closes the door behind us and wastes no time putting her hands on me, going for my belt buckle. I run my hands up her thighs, sliding them under her skirt and rubbing at her clit through the fabric of her panties. She’s already soaking wet.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” she says, bucking at my touch. “About giving you a memorable send-off.” She undoes my belt buckle and then steps back, sitting on the edge of the boardroom table. She lifts her hips up and slides her underwear off, raising a challenging eyebrow at me as she does. I’m already hard, uncomfortable against my pants, as I step toward her.

  “Good,” I say. I pull my pants down to my knees, stroking my cock a few times. Her eyes are on me, and she’s licking her lips. “A conference room fuck for the road?”

  “That’s exactly what I had in mind,” she says. She spreads her legs wide and slides her own fingers over her clit, slowly, holding my eyes.

  “Me too,” I say, stepping all the way in between her legs. She gasps and nods, putting her head on my neck as I run my fingers through her wetness. I take my cock in my hand and guide it inside her. She lets out a muffled shout into my neck and grips my shoulders tightly as I start to fuck her, hard and fast.

  “God, yes,” she says, wrapping her legs around me and pulling me in closer. She’s warm and wet around me. I think I needed this today, needed this release. I put my hands on her thighs, squeezing them as I continue to fuck her. She’s still gasping into my neck, biting out curses. We’ve done this enough times that I know what she likes, what she wants, and what she responds to. Natalie likes these hard and fast fucks, these ones that are a little dangerous, that come with a little risk.

  I enjoy it too, get off on the thrill of it. It’s my office, so the risk isn’t actually very high, but the idea of fucking a secretary in the conference room is still hot, even if this is far from this first time.

  She digs her fingers into my shoulders and screams into my neck as she comes, and I come inside her several strokes later. She unwraps her legs from around me, and we both breathe heavily, silent for a bit.

  “Good luck in . . . is it Arizona?” Natalie asks, after a minute, as she shifts her skirt back down over her hips.

  “Alabama,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I can’t imagine a man like you in a small town in the south,” Natalie says. She moves her hands to her hair, fixing the pins in it as we talk.

  “I grew up there, and I think it will be good for my son,” I say. It’s what I’ve been telling everyone, and it’s mostly the truth. My son, David, has never been outside of New York. I do think it will be good for him to be around my family and to have space to run around.

  “Well, we’ll miss you around here,” Natalie says, shaking her head.

  “I’ll be around through video chat,” I say, and Natalie laughs, standing up and walking towards me as she does.

  “Won’t be the same,” she says.

  “I think you’ll be surprised. I need to go check on the movers,” I say. I consider saying I’ll keep in touch with her personally, or that she could come visit me, or even that we could get a drink next time I am back in town. We would both know it would be a lie, that I’ll never do those things. So I don’t say it or anything else. I pull Natalie into a quick hug and then head back to my office.

  It’s empty now, and the boxes standing in the corners look out of place already. I shake my head, looking around again at everything I’ve built here.

  “Never thought you’d leave the city,” Todd says, coming
up and clapping me on the shoulder.

  “I always told you I might someday,” I say. Todd is one of the first people I brought on board, and we’ve survived a lot of happy hours and networking events together. He’s one of the people that make me so confident in my ability to run things remotely.

  “I didn’t think you were serious,” Todd says.

  “It’s best for David,” I say. “We’ll be around my family.”

  “Do you ever hear from . . . ” Todd starts and then stops. I frown, knowing what he was going to ask. Todd knows has been around long enough that he remembers David’s mother, Michelle.

  “Rarely,” I say. Michelle was from California, and I hadn’t met her family until her funeral. There had been plans for them to come out to meet David when he was born, but after she died, they’d never made it to New York. Sometimes her mom still calls and talks about wanting to spend time with David, maybe take him in for a week in the summer, but so far, nothing has come of it. I send pictures of David and scans of his art because it’s what Michelle would have wanted, but I don’t go out of my way to keep them updated or tell them stories about his life. They’ve never asked for them or really reached out to me, either. I hope that one day it’s better, that David can be closer to his mother’s parents, but for now they’re barely more than strangers to him.

  It’s been almost five years since Michelle died, and I’ve spent a lot more time telling myself it’s been okay than it actually has been. I’ve worked harder, nearly doubling my fortune while expanding the company. I’ve taken out countless beautiful women and told myself I’ve been enjoying every moment of it. Lately, I’ve been thinking it’s not true because I’m not happy. I’ve been using work and sex to fill how fucking lonely and bored I’ve been since Michelle died, and it’s making me miserable.

  I don’t think it’s good for me, or David, to stay here any longer. He needs to see people who aren’t just me and the few nannies he’s had. He needs a father who is thinking clearly. I don’t know if going home will help or if it will actually make me any happier, but I feel like I’ve hit a wall and I need to do something. I feel like if I stay here, I’ll keep doing the same things: bringing women to bars and hotel rooms, throwing myself into work. No amount of money in the bank or nights of incredible sex have helped me at all.