The Billionaire Renegade

скачать книгу бесплатно


Conrad retrieved Felicity’s mount and began grooming Patches first. As he finished grooming the pinto, he heard the distinct sound of a car engine approach and then fall silent.

A few moments later, Felicity walked into the barn. He was half-surprised she’d shown. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt as he was struck by her natural beauty, the curves visible even through her snow gear.

Her brown hair was swept into a thick braid draped over one shoulder. Her deep purple parka matched her snow pants. Her scarf was loose around her neck, but long enough to cover her face if the wind picked up.

She tugged the ends of the fringed scarf tighter as she approached him. “Well, hello, Conrad. I have to confess, I didn’t expect this.”

Her eyes flitted to the open door behind her, gaze lingering on his one-story home, which overlooked a mountain range.

“What did you expect?” He finished currycombing Jackson, who stretched his neck out far, releasing a shuddering shake from ears to tailbone. Conrad bent over, hoof pick in hand, watching her out of the corner of his eyes.

“I envisioned you living in a penthouse condo. Not a...well, a home.”

“Technically, this—” he motioned around the space “—is a barn.”

She laughed, the wind through the open door carrying a whiff of her citrus scent, mixing with the familiar smell of leather and hay. “You’re right. It is. But I was referring to your house, as well.”

Interesting how she saw space when he thought of his estate as scaled back. Releasing Jackson’s hoof, Conrad made his way to the door. Shut it to keep out the cold. No use freezing before they started riding.

“It’s not the size of my brother’s, but I don’t need as much room.”

“It’s still very spacious, especially by Alaska standards with property being so expensive.” She winced, setting her leather bag on the recessed shelving near where the saddles hung. She positioned the bag near the helmets he’d always made children wear. “That was crass of me to mention money.”

“Not at all. High real estate prices here are a fact.” Hefting Patches’s saddle and saddle pad off the rack, he slung the bridle over his shoulder.

A glance at Felicity’s wind-pinkened face filled his mind with thoughts of skimming kisses over her before claiming her mouth. The memory of her was powerful, so much so, it could tempt him to move too fast and risk the progress he’d made with her. Drawing in a steadying breath, he focused on the task of readying the horses.

As he moved toward the pinto, Patches’s ears flicked as if interested in the conversation at hand as the saddle settled on his back. Conrad was a hard worker, but plenty of people worked hard and didn’t have this kind of luxury. He knew luck had played in as well and he didn’t lose sight of that. After adjusting the girth, he slid the bit into the horse’s mouth, fiddling with the chin strap. He placed the reins on Patches’s neck. The well-trained horse didn’t move, but stood at attention as Conrad tacked up Jackson.

“Even in Texas, I grew up in smaller places, my parents’ apartment, then foster homes. This is incredible.”

He warmed at how she expressed appreciation for the life he’d built, rather than comparing it with Jack Steele’s sprawling compound. Conrad passed her the reins to Patches, the wind blowing the loose strands of her hair forward. His hands itched with the urge to stroke her hair back.

Too easily, he could lose himself in looking at her. But if he made a move, she would likely bolt.

Patience.

He offered her a leg up out of courtesy but also to determine her skill. He would be able to tell if she was as good a rider as she claimed by the way she sat in the saddle. How she positioned her body and weight.

Felicity seemed to be a natural.

Now confident she could hold her own, he led his horse out by the reins. The sun was high and bright, reflecting off the snow in a nearly blinding light. Closing the barn door behind him, he led Jackson a few steps away from the steel-reinforced door. Conrad pulled himself into the saddle, hands adjusting the reins by muscle memory.

Pressing his calves into Jackson’s sensitive side, he urged the horse toward an open gate. He figured this enclosed area would be safer—just in case Felicity lost her seat. Much easier to contain than potentially chasing Patches through the wilderness.

Felicity skillfully picked up the reins, bringing Patches to attention as she set her horse beside his. “Have you heard anything more about your niece?”

“We’ve locked down a time for Brea’s arrival. We’ll be meeting with her attorney present—at her request.” The hair on the back of his neck bristled at all the ways things could go badly.

“This can’t be easy for any of you.”

He pushed his weight in the saddle, grounding down. Nothing about Brea’s return had been something he could have imagined. At least not like this.

“We never dreamed we could have her back at all. We’re staying focused on the fact she’s alive.” Truthful, but it didn’t negate the hell of wondering what led her to infiltrate the company, to resent and mistrust them all to this degree.

“I hope it’s not awkward if I ask, but is there a chance her mother is alive, too?” An eagle soaring overhead cast a wide-wingspan shadow along the snow ahead of Felicity.

“No, none,” he said without hesitation. “Mary’s body was thrown from the plane. They were able to make a positive ID. With Brea, they only located teeth in the charred wreckage.”

It never got easier discussing that part of the aftermath.

She shivered. “Your family has been through so much.”

“Nothing guarantees life will be easy.” The glare of the sun along the icy pasture was so bright he shielded his eyes with his hand. “We’re just lucky to have each other for support along the way.”

“That’s a healthy outlook.”

Her words made him realize she was listening with a professional ear. “I recall you saying you became a social worker because of growing up in foster care. What made you decide to switch to the hospital position?”

Her posture grew surer as she answered him, guiding Patches around snow-covered bushes. “As a child, I saw what a difference a caring professional could make, in my life and in others’. There are so many components, from the caseworker, to the courts, and yes, too often, hospitals. This gave me another avenue to make a difference.”

“You’re certainly doing that.” He respected her devotion to her job, one of the many things that had attracted him to her. He’d thought her career focus would also make them a great pair. He’d thought wrong and needed to figure out another way around to win her.

“I’m grateful to your family for what they’re doing for the hospital.” Wind blew flurries around her horse’s hooves. “The children in oncology... I don’t need to spell out their needs for you. You saw it with your niece Naomi.”

“I did. What kinds of needs do you see for the children in the hospital?” he asked, to make the most of working together. And because he found he was genuinely curious in her input.

“That’s such a broad question.”

He tilted his head, looking forward on the trail in the pasture and checking for uneven ground that could be masked by the snow. “Say the first thing that pops into your head.”

“I have a list in my office on staffing and structural needs,” she said, still not answering his question.

But he understood how her professional instincts might be in play, not wanting to commit to an item when there was a more important need.

“Send me the list. I feel certain we can address those issues. What else?” he pressed. “Something you didn’t even imagine could go on your wish list.” He pushed Jackson into a slow trot, the palomino’s stride putting slight distance between them. Glancing over his shoulder, Conrad saw a determined smile settle on Felicity’s face.

Keeping her hands low on Patches’s neck, she clicked her tongue, coaxing the horse into a smooth jog. Though the horse’s pace increased, Felicity’s seat stayed steady. Flawless execution.

“Well, the children in behavioral health could use more pet therapy teams.”

Felicity’s roots might be Texan, but she held her own with the horse and the cold like she’d lived here her whole life. He was surprised and impressed. “We’re on it. Isabeau Mikkelson is on the committee for PR and she brought up that very subject in an earlier meeting.”

“She and her husband live on a ranch outside Juneau, right?”

“Yes, she just arrived in town today. They’re staying with the family during her last trimester of pregnancy. She’s high risk because of her diabetes, and they want to use the same doctor Naomi had for the delivery.”

“I’m glad they have the support of so many relatives. Are you sure she’s up to the task of helping with this?”

Even with Isabeau being high risk, he hadn’t considered something could go wrong. “She checked with her doctors first and got the okay. She’s been going stir-crazy taking off work and this was a good compromise. She’s been helping pick up slack, too, that would have been covered by Jeannie’s former assistant, Sage Hammond.”

“What happened to Sage?”

“She took a sudden sabbatical to Europe. Really left the family in a lurch, kind of surprising since she’s related to Jeannie.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Isabeau raised the idea of pet therapy since she has a service dog for her diabetes. Even though a service dog is different from a therapy dog, Isabeau’s a great resource on the topic. She’s familiar with the various roles a pet can play in health care.”

Felicity nodded. “A service dog performs a task for one person for life, and a therapy dog provides comfort in groups or for a number of different people individually.”

“Exactly. We’re looking into therapy dog programs for individual room visits as well as group settings. Having a couple of dogs present during reading time would be a great place to start.”

“That sounds wonderful. You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this.” She glanced at him. “Your family, too. It’s not just a...”

“Not just a promotional tool? No. That’s not to say we aren’t happy for the good press, because our success gives us more charitable options.”

“I’ll do my best to be sure the money’s spent wisely so the foundation can do even more.”

“I’m sure you will.” Applying slight pressure with his reins, Conrad looped his horse back toward the barn. Created somewhat of a bad circle in the snow.

Felicity maneuvered Patches to follow him. “How are you so certain?”

“You were willing to come riding with me today in spite of pushing me away with both hands,” he said with a cocky grin.

Silence fell between them. The only sounds echoing in the air were the crunch of horse hooves against fresh snow.

She shook her head, her smile half amused. “I don’t dislike you.”

He laughed, appreciating how she didn’t dish out flattery just because he had money to donate. “Watch it, or my ego will overinflate with the lavish compliments.”

“I don’t mean to be rude. I just want to be sure we’re clear that this is business.”

He needed to make sure she understood. “I would never make a move without your consent.”

“But that’s not the same as continuing to pursue me,” she said with a wry smile, her cheeks turning red from the wind.

“You’re too perceptive for me to even try to deny that.”

“As long as you’re clear on where I stand.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tapped the brim of his Stetson, tipping it slightly in salute. “We should get back before your Texas roots freeze out here.”

They’d reached the gate again. Conrad guided Jackson through the opening. Though if he was being honest the horse knew it was time to return home. A renewed pep in his step, Jackson moved toward the barn. Patches let out a low nicker as they drew closer to the structure.

He’d made progress with Felicity and his quest. He’d meant it when he said he wouldn’t leverage the attraction between them until she gave him the green light. But he was a patient man. He could still spend time with her. Get to know her better. Persuade her that they could have something special.

In fact, he welcomed the challenge—as well as the distraction from the stress of his niece’s complicated return.

Three (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)

Breanna Steele still struggled with thinking of herself by her birth name. She’d been Milla Jones for over fifteen years. It felt like longer, in fact, since the Brea days were distant, muddied by so many factors since the plane crash.

Pushing away her in-flight meal, she pressed her fingertips against the cool glass of the airplane window. Since the plane crash all those years ago, flying sent her stomach into knots. Particularly when the private jet was so small, just like that aircraft all those years ago. But the transportation had been chartered by the Steeles. Snow-covered mountains sent her nerves into overdrive so she returned her focus to the main cabin.

Her lawyer accompanied her, a young attorney who’d taken her case pro bono, looking to make a name for himself. He was cutthroat. All the more reason to trust him with a future so scary and unsure.

Taking the flight offered by the Steeles had made her nervous, but ultimately it was the logical thing to do. She’d also been very clear in her acceptance that she’d left safeguards in place if anything happened to her. The world would know exactly where she’d been.

People thought she was acting paranoid. She didn’t care.

She tore apart the roll, tossing the pieces into her bowl of uneaten salad. Stress had taken a toll on her appetite. Since the death of her “adoptive” parents last year, she’d been unable to resist searching for answers about her past. Her mind was a jumble. She’d been brought up by a couple—Steven and Karen Jones—who’d protected her from the threats of her family’s crooked connections.

She’d been told her Steele siblings died as well in the crash and the accident was such a haze, she’d believed it. Steven and Karen had insisted they were keeping Brea safe from threats existing in her birth father’s world.

Finding out after the Jones’s deaths that her real dad and her siblings were alive had been a shock, one that started a steamroll of questions about other things. Still, loyalty to Steven and Karen, who’d saved her, was tough to break. She’d told herself they lied about her siblings to keep her safe from her father, who’d orchestrated her biological mother’s death. Brea still believed that to a degree. So much so that she could only envision meeting with the Steeles with lawyers present for her safety—and so she didn’t end up in jail.

There was also the whole matter of her wrangling a job at Alaska Oil Barons Inc. under her fake name and leaking business secrets. She’d wanted revenge for their abandonment. Now she was beginning to realize things might not be that simple. But she still needed to be careful.

As the plane began its descent into Anchorage, she shivered. Afraid, but resolute. The time had come to face her past, to make peace so she could move forward free of any entanglements with the Steeles.

Free of the pain of realizing they never really searched for her.

Never could she be a part of the Steeles’ world of lies and a fake sense of family.

Felicity found disentangling her feelings when it came to Conrad Steele was easier said than done. Their simple ride together had left her more confused than ever.

Fidgeting with her long, silver necklace, she looked at her half-eaten turkey-and-hummus sandwich. She contemplated grabbing it off the pile of vintage travel books she’d used to decorate her office. Unlike her coworkers, Felicity didn’t have many pictures of family and loved ones plastered in every square inch of her office.