Page 2 of Heart of Stone (Dark Billionaires)

No, we won’t.

The layout of the upstairs of the house was a perfect match to the downstairs, with the kitchen being downstairs and the bathroom up. The yellowing walls pervaded here too, her father’s cigarette smoke drifting up through the stairs. Kate glared at it as it invaded her space. What she wouldn’t give to have a door. Instead, the curved staircase came right through the floor of her bedroom, crashing through any privacy she might have wanted.

Silently, she packed her things into an old weekend bag she’d bought at a charity shop. The musty scent of disuse wrinkled her nose. The fake leather was peeling off in flaky chunks, but it would have to do. Tears attempted to escape down her cheeks when she found the single item she kept in the bag, but Kate furiously swatted them away. She ran her thumb over the little heart-shaped locket; the only thing she had left of her mother.

She clipped it on, hiding it underneath her collar with a clenched jaw. Dad didn’t deserve it. Not after everything he put her through.

A commotion outside pricked her ears. Dogs barking. Her neighbour’s staffies, she guessed. Kate poked her head out of the window. Her neighbour—Peter—worked the night shift down at a local hotel. To stop his dogs destroying his house, Peter usually left them in his garden whilst he worked, but they were making quick work of his lacklustre fencing. They’d escaped last week. Again.

She exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw they were still in the garden. In fact, judging from the plumes of weed smoke rising from beneath the front door’s awning, Peter himself was home.

Good. The last thing she needed tonight was to be a dog wrangler.

When the few belongings she had were packed, Kate sat on her bedroom floor. The metal railings of her bedframe pressed uncomfortably into her spine, but she remained where she was.

The cold reality of her situation hit home when there was nothing left to do. No physical task to take her mind off things.

Kate scrolled through the job listings with a growing heaviness in her chest—not to mention the price of studio flats. Even the smallest, grottiest of flats neared a grand a month. A grand a month to live in a flat so small she could touch the kitchen sink whilst lying in bed.

Her father’s business was largely illegal. True, the strip club and casino elements were legal, but the prostitution was not. The drugs changing hands were not. What would her CV even say?

Kate Charlton

Employment history:

After working at Charlton’s Gentlemen’s Club since leaving school four years ago, my attempts to save my father from his many vices have finally failed. Consequently, I’m looking for a new challenge. Experienced in balancing (probably) dodgy books, general administration, payroll, social media, organising illegal fights, completing tax returns, communicating with bailiffs, and not voicing my many concerns about the way the business is handled.

Uncomfortable around people in general, but skilled in Microsoft Excel and catching badly trained dogs. Still annoyed about the last season ofGame of Thrones.

She let her head fall back against the foot of the bed and closed her eyes.

At the same time, a heavy thump rocked the front door.

Kate heard her father moving slowly towards the porch and scowled. Had he phoned his dealer?Like he usually does whenever something goes wrong.It was what he’d done after Aaron had died. Spend money they didn’t have on a habit he couldn’t fucking afford. Even when he’d said he had nothing, what he meant wasnothing for you.

A decade after Aaron’s death, his title as thefavouritechild still stung. The favourite of two. It would have been easier to handle if she had other siblings to commiserate with, but to play favourites with two children? All it did was separate them. Kate had never had abrother. She had had a competitor. A challenger for her father’s love and affection.

The title offavouritestill reigned even now. Aaron was barely cold before his sanctification began.

Kate loved her brother, deep down, but she hated who her father made him out to be. Aaron had grown up in Dad’s club and had fallen in with a bad crowd at an early age. He’d not been long out of Borstal at the time of his death, sentenced for theft.

She sighed as she heard her father unlock the deadbolts she’d inexpertly drilled into the front door. The photograph of Aaron on the coffee table was a far better child than she would ever be, at least in her father’s eyes.

“Talbot,” Dad’s voice drifted upstairs. The sound put Kate on edge—the false cheeriness laced within. “You all right?”

Where Kate had been expecting Talbot to make a reply, the only response was the quiveringbangas the front door bounced off the wall behind it, closing shortly after. It was only then that Talbot deigned to make a reply, whoever he was.

“Paul,” Talbot said curtly.

“Gents!” Dad laughed gratingly over the sound of movement. Heavy bangs reverberated through the floorboards. How many of them were there? “Gents,” he said again, sounding slightly more strangled. Kate knew her father too well not to recognise desperation when she heard it. “Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“You’re right,” a second voice said. A deep, heavy growl that sounded as if it belonged to a bear of a man. “Sign this.”

Paper rustled. “No. I have a week before the company needs to be signed over. It’s barely been two hours. Tell your employer that I need tim—”

The sick crunch of a fist crashing into flesh made her jump, closely followed by her father’s pained grunt and shattering glass. “I’ll take no orders from you,” the bear replied.

Kate gasped as the stairs began to rattle; the tell-tale sign that someone was climbing them. There was nowhere to hide. Not even a cupboard.

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