Page 32 of Heart of Stone (Dark Billionaires)

“I can’t show up to someone’s house uninvited, on their birthday no less, and not have a card ready, Warren. I may not be a social butterfly but I’m not a hermit. Even I know that.” She paused, her brows knotting together. ”Or am I waiting in the car?”

“You’re not waiting in the car, kitten. They’ll be excited to finally meet you.”

“You’ve told them about me?” Kate said, her hand lying on her chest.

It was either that or he told them about prison, but Warren just nodded. “I have. They know what you were to me.” Even he had no idea what she was to him now. Someone that provoked longing and discomfort simultaneously, who seemed to see him at his most vulnerable.

“Can we get him a cake too?” she asked as they pulled into a space in the car park, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door. Her excitement was palpable.

“We can get him anything you want, kitten.”

The shop was bustling with people. The two of them dodged trolley after trolley in their attempts to find the card section. A wall of gift cards gave him pause. “Do you want to get him a gift card too?” He chucked his thumb in its direction, grabbing her hand to pull her back.

Kate faltered. “I can’t pay you back for that, Warren.”

“I don’t want you to. It’s a gift from me to you.” He halted. “To my brother.”

She gave him a slight smile. “What does he like?”

“World of Warcraft. Books.Warhammer.”

“Warhammer?”

“It’s a game where you buy and paint your own little figurine armies and battle them against other people’s little figurine armies.” Not that he was an expert by any means. “I think.” Warren picked up one of the multi-shop gift cards and examined it, searching for where it could be spent. “I think this one would be best,” he said eventually. “He can buyWorld of Warcraftstuff with this and spent it in book shops.”

“Thank you, Warren.”

He waved it away. “Don’t mention it. Let’s go get a cake.”

“And a birthday card,” she nudged him with her shoulder playfully.

At five to ten, Warren stood with Kate outside Sarah and Andy’s front door. His mum and dad, not that he’d ever thought of them as such. It wasn’t out of malice. Warren likened it to someone getting a new step-parent in their twenties; it would be odd to suddenly call a stranger ‘mum’ or ‘dad.’ His hesitation to refer to them as ‘mum’ or ‘dad’ was because they weren’t. Not really. If he’d met them as a child, perhaps he would have been more comfortable doing so.

But he was an adult. So he didn’t.

It wasn’t a problem he’d ever had with Mattie.

“Hello, mate,” he grinned at the sight of his brother opening the door. Sarah and Andy’s little dog barked in the background. “Happy birthday.”

Mattie squeezed him in a hug that almost had his eyeballs popping out of his skull. “Thank you, Warren.”

“Mattie,” he laid a hand on both his brother’s shoulder and Kate’s. “This is Kate.”

“Kate,” Mattie said, grinning. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mattie. Happy birthday.”

Sarah hoved into view at the end of the entrance corridor. “Come in,” she said happily, shooting Warren a fond smile, “before the dog gets out.”

Ushered into the living room, Sarah was positively beaming when she met Kate. Leo the Jack Russell was similarly happy, jumping up to her knees with his short, surprisingly chunky legs.

Warren nodded to Andy, who waved at him from a recliner armchair in the corner, clasping a lit cigarette in his hand, his eyes on the TV. A decade or so older than his wife, the man’s legs were propped up, but the corners of his eyes twitched as he surveyed the room. Sarah bustled about with a motherly smile, taking the cake into the kitchen to sort out the candles.

Kate and Warren joined Mattie in his gaming room—previously a small dining room, according to Mattie—where his miniature army was proudly displayed on a large table, including a handmade terrain. A computer sat in the corner, with both the keyboard and the case illuminated by matching lights.

“Did you paint all of these?” Kate said, bending down to inspect the miniatures strategically laid out on the terrain.

Mattie nodded. “This one,” he picked up a colourful figure that seemed to be part tree, “is called Sylvaneth, and she’s the daughter of Alarielle.”

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