Page 31 of Heart of Stone (Dark Billionaires)

“Can I come with you?” she asked shyly, her hands twisting into the fabric of a knee-length gingham dress. “I won’t be any trouble.”

It wasn’t her he was worried about. The first of June. Mattie’s birthday. He should have remembered long before this, but the day had crept up on him. Paul fucking Charlton had crept up on him. Again. Mattie had heard enough about Kate, and Sarah too.

They’d love to meet Kate, Mattie especially.

“Fine,” he smiled. “Let’s go.”

The long westward drive meant they entered into the seething arena that was morning traffic. Despite the fact that they were trying to get out of London instead of in, the roads were still rammed with cars and their bad-tempered drivers.

“Oh that smells so good,” Kate sniffed as they sat in traffic outside a fast food drive-thru.

With a wry smile, Warren flicked on the indicator. “Get what you want, kitten. We don’t have to be there till ten o’clock.” He pulled out his phone and sent an order in through the app.

She fidgeted in her seat excitedly. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

After they’d received their food, Warren pulled into the car park to eat. “Fucking savages,” he muttered, eyeing a clapped-out Volkswagen Polo a few spaces down whose teenage occupants had regurgitated their rubbish onto the pavement.

“I know.” Kate bit into her food with a moan that had his cock perking up like a dog hearing the rustle of a treat packet. “God, I forgot how good this is. I haven’t had it in years. What did you get?”

He hid his bacon roll away, unable to stop a crooked grin raising one side of his mouth. “Why? Are your kleptomaniac tendencies returning to you?”

Kate chewed her lip. “Maybe.” She held out a half-eaten pancake. “Would you like a bite of mine?”

Warren held her wrist steady. “Too right I would.” He bit down, leaning across the gearstick.

Her cry was one of outrage. “That was half my bloody breakfast!”

He whipped out one of the two servings of pancakes he’d ordered. “I got another one, don’t worry.”

The bright smile that broke out across her face could have torn his heart in two.

An hour-and-a-half later, Warren turned off the motorway. In his rear-view mirror, the security car did the same.

“Andover?” Kate read the sign on the slip road. “We’re going to Andover?”

“We are.”

“Any particular reason why?”

Warren hesitated. “A couple of months ago, I hired a private investigator to find my parents.”

Kate’s lips parted as she sat up straight in the seat, leaving behind her slouched slump. “And they found them?”

“They found them. I wrote to my mother, and she replied. Her name is Sarah.” Optimism practically dripped from Kate’s expression. “My father’s name is Andy, and I have a brother called Mattie. Today is his birthday.”

“How old is he?”

Again, his answer wasn’t immediate. “He’s twenty-two. The same age as you. Mattie has Down’s syndrome, but he isn’t—” Warren let out a long sigh “—I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. He’s high-functioning, if that’s even the right term. He’s not a child, so please don’t talk to him like one.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” Kate had twisted round to lay her cheek against the seat’s pale leather. “I’m assuming this isn’t your first visit.”

“No, I’ve been here quite a few times now.”

“Wait,” she cried. “There’s a big Tesco—can I pop in and get him a card?”

“Seriously?” he asked, the indicator ticking as they waited to change lanes.

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