Home > Bitter Peaches : A Billionaire Suspense Romance

Bitter Peaches : A Billionaire Suspense Romance
Author: Eve Bradley

One

 

 

What is it About Airplanes?

 

 

I’m sitting on a jet, leaned back in my first-class pod seat, my legs scrunched up beneath a snug complimentary blanket as I attempt to read a romance book on the Kindle device that Shawn gifted me. He told me it was important to him that I expand my mind…that I learn. But here I am reading a very erotic scene in a book involving vampires and shifters in all sorts of positions, and I don’t think this is exactly what he had in mind. I think he was leaning more toward the self-help side of things.

Shawn’s face is shadowed in the dim light, his head tipped back against the pillow. Beside him, Rhett sits mindlessly scrolling through his phone. On the other side of me, Alexi is also sleeping, his muscled form curled against the wall. I can sense that they are rocked in and out of sleep by the constant turbulence. But this turbulence is what keeps me wide awake, my mind frazzled by the unfamiliarity of being in the air for what feels like the first time.

While boarding, I asked Shawn if I’d done this before as Penny. He chuckled, his hand reaching for my waist as he whispered: “a thousand times. You’ll be fine.” But as I sit here entertaining a range of possible crash scenarios in between sentences of descriptive sex scenes, my heart pounds under my ribs. But maybe it’s not just the new experience that sits like a brick on my chest.

If I were to tell you that I have a relationship with three men, most wouldn’t believe me. I mean sometimes I don’t even believe me. The truth of what’s occurred in my lifetime is riddled with secrets, lies, lost memories, and danger. Sometimes I have to remind myself that this is not a dream-- that this is real even if it feels impossible. From my perspective, I’ve been off of the streets only a few months, living with Shawn Van Doren, a billionaire hotel owner, Rhett Clark, an entrepreneur and artist, and Alexi Lebedev, a Russian male model. All three work together in an elaborately formed con ring, the headquarters located in the basement of one of Shawn’s California hotels. They operate in synchronicity to carry out carefully designed cons against some of the biggest criminals in the world.

But their perspective of me is different from that of my own because they knew me when I was Penelope Windsor, a deranged criminal sociopath. A person that is unknown to me, and yet Shawn, Rhett, and Alexi seem to know her well. I can’t help but feel uneasy about the fact that they finessed me into their group most likely for the second time, only telling me about the truth of who I am because James Young showed me my documents.

Can a woman be changed through hypnotism alone? I feel broken, like a puzzle of misfit pieces attempting to shove myself back together in a form that looks…nearly whole. Only, it makes me wonder, without those memories…can I ever be whole? I think about what mom and Emily will say. I feel foolish now writing them that note. If the file was a reflection of the type of person I was before, why would they ever want to see or speak to me again? Would they even be glad to know that I am alive?

“You look like you’re thinking about something serious,” Rhett whispers.

I now realize he’s been staring at me as I glare wistfully at the vents in the cabin ceiling, my kindle tossed into my lap, dejected.

“Ah,” I shrug and offer him a plastic smile. “You know me. Always so serious.”

I receive a glimmer of a smile, his white teeth flashing in the darkness.

“You know you can talk to me, Allie,” he says, and my heart begins to stutter for other reasons.

I think about Rhett. Mr. tall, dark and handsome, bad boy extraordinaire. Dark gold skin haunts me with sacred moments where we are alone, clothes abandoned, and bodies entangled. I blush at the memories, feeling like he has to know where my thoughts are going. But how can I be so fucking horny all the time? Is it because I’ve never experienced an ounce of true, safe male attention? I think about his long cock filling me as I scream his name, as I scream for him to keep going as waves of pleasure crash over me. These thoughts have me shifting my position uncomfortably and crossing my legs.

“I know. It’s just hard to, you know, talk sometimes,” I exhale, pushing the images away.

He lets out a dry laugh that tells me he understands.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone, little miss. I know there are a lot of unanswered questions. I can’t imagine how you’re dealing with it,” he says, keeping his tone low as he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and threading his hands.

I sigh again, deeper this time. Fine, Rhett. I’ll take the damn bait.

“I just feel like I’m missing a lot of time. I don’t know what memories are true or not.”

“Shawn said you didn’t want to know. Are you changing your mind?” he asks, dark chocolate brows lifting in curiosity.

I wipe my hand across my face and shut my eyes for a moment, hating this question because there are no two minutes in which the answer is the same.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly and clutch the blanket in my hands as if I’d wring the life out of it.

“Angelita…” Rhett says my pet name, lifting his eyes to mine. His sparkling gaze is torture right now because the scared little girl inside me wants to run to him and have him hold me. “You know if you want your past you can ask for it.”

I cross my arms and then offer him a thin smile.

“I don’t know, would any of you tell me the truth?”

I am surprised when I see Shawn stir. He lowers his stubbled chin from its upturned placement as he rests against the pillow and then opens his eyes as if he’s been listening all along. It’s amazing how one look from this ice prince of a man has me suddenly eager to argue. Perhaps that’s the sickness inside me that still exists, but I like the entertainment of fucking with him when I know that he wants control. Probably because I like to tease and then be forced into submission.

“Mr. Van Doren. Nice of you to join us,” I snicker.

He gives me a steely expression and blinks those quicksilver eyes. It’s amazing how even in his fatigue he looks dominating. Not like Alexi, who looks like an angelic little prince instead of a hard-bound assassin while he rests.

“You know the truth is yours is you want it. Why are you complaining?” he asks gruffly.

“She’s confused, Shawn. Fuck. Give her a break,” Rhett snaps.

Shawn slides his eyes towards Rhett, almost as if he’s surprised at his outburst. It’s not often that Shawn shows his emotions, and we’re all left trying to decipher if this is the moment he’ll crack or if he truly just doesn’t give a fuck. I’m going to go with: doesn’t give a fuck.

“It’s fine,” I say hurriedly, hoping to calm any unnecessary storm.

Both men, for the first time ever, seem as if they’re bristling against the others’ masculinity. It makes me laugh in nervousness.

“Allie, follow me, please,” Shawn says as he stands and passes in front of Rhett towards the sliding door that leads to the aisle.

Rhett raises his brows, a fleeting micro-expression that I just so happen to catch. I rise and follow, reaching for Rhett’s hand as I go. He squeezes mine back in passing, giving me a darkly lustful gaze, and then releases me so that I can follow Shawn.

I don’t know what he wants, and I’m mildly nervous he’s going to be in one of his assholish moods. As I’ve come to know him I’ve realized that Shawn, when dealing with something difficult, finds it easier to shelter himself in walls. I mean, don’t we all? Except his are titanium and no matter what I do I cannot get him to communicate if it’s not something he wants at the time. As I said, assholish. But I also recognize that I have my annoying habits too. No one is perfect.

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