The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) by Mia Caldwell Read Free Book Online Page A

when my mother inhales deeply. "So we got some news," she says,
her voice heavy with meaning.

 
    I'm
already dancing in place, a frenzy of nerves. The wedding starts in five
minutes. I can't deal with this right now. I try to side step. . "Ma, you
sound tired."

 
    "I'm
tired as hell, Yahya," she snaps back.   "You know I love him, love him more
than I thought it was possible to love anyone except my daughter, but..."
she trails off trying to find the words. "He needs me. Constantly. Round
the clock. It's like I have a newborn again, except you smelled all sweet when
you were a baby and Otis just smells like sickness."   I can hear her sniffing through the phone
"I can smell it on me. It's in my hair, my clothes..."

 
    "Mama,
calm down. It's okay."

 
    "Is
it?" she asks wildly. "They want to take his femur, Sanniyah. That's
the news. The cancer that was supposed to be in remission spent its time eating
away at his bone and now they want to put a metal rod in there like it's going
to do something. He can barely walk now, but they want him to keep trying, keep
walking, keep putting himself through hell on the off chance they can pull off
a miracle."

 
    I am
frozen in place. The guests are arriving and sitting in the pews, but I can't
even muster the strength to move out of their way. "Oh,
  I reply in a small, sad voice.

 
    "What's
that?" Mama isn't talking to me. I hear the scrabbling sounds on the other
end, then a heavy sigh. "Mrs. Parker has to go pick up her grandbaby at
daycare, her daughter just called all frantic. I gotta go, Yahya." She
exhales forcefully into the phone. "Love my baby girl," she sighs in
her standard goodbye, but there's none of the usual warmth. She hangs up before
I can even reply.

 
    I turn
on my heel and head right into the bathroom. A dab of cool water soothes my
burning cheeks and ten deep breaths calm the tears that sting my eyes. I have to work. I am a professional. I can't
bring my personal shit into the mix.

 
    "You
can deal with this later when you have a plan," I tell my reflection, then
nod in agreement with the woman in the mirror. I straighten my shoulders and
head out into the vestibule with a smile on my face that doesn’t' reach my
eyes.

 
    The
first fifteen minutes of the ceremony go off flawlessly and I almost feel like
I can get through today without falling apart. That is, until I feel my phone buzz
in my hand.

 
    "No fish."

 
    Two
little words from the reception site, but they're enough to spell disaster. The
bride's seafood order has been mishandled and now a hundred and twelve of the
five hundred guests are going to have to go without the flounder they had
ordered. My father's cancer is back, but now I have to worry about fish. I
could laugh if I didn't want so badly to break down crying.

 
    I duck
out the back, right as the bride and groom are lighting the Unity candle, and
furiously scroll through my contacts. Gordon has helped me out of a few jams
before and I know his product is fresh. If I can just get him to deliver on
time.

 
    "No can do, Yahya. I've got a full
house tonight." My phone vibrates so loudly that several heads
turn. "Sorry," I mouth, and push my way into the vestibule, fingers
flying.

 
    "Gordon, work with me here," I
type. "How can I make this worth
your while?"

 
    "Excuse
me? Where are the pictures being taken?"

 
    I whip
my head up to see the bride's ten-year-old nephew looking up at me, all
buck-toothed and earnest with an overpriced DSLR around his neck. Why a kid his
age has a camera like that, I couldn't possibly understand, but I nod and smile
anyway. "The Roosevelt Room downtown," I tell him as my phone
vibrates in quick succession.

 
    "Hmm,
the light in there is not ideal," he intones pompously, looking down and
fiddling with his toy.

 
    "I'm
sure you can make it work," I say smoothly and duck around to check my
phone. When I see Gordon's refusal, I curse softly under my breath. This isn't