Page 6 of Heart of Stone (Dark Billionaires)

Stone?

The word cut through them both, severing the connection.

Brax stood near the doorway, his muscular build and scowling face giving him an immediate air of harsh authority. “You’re needed in the cellar.”

Warren nodded, his gaze never leaving Kate. He waited until Brax left before speaking. “Who would have thought you’d turn out to be as much of a scheming cunt as your father, kitten?”

Kate frowned in confusion, but Warren had already pulled away. “Wait,” Kate stammered, following him. “You’reStone? The Stone that ruined my father and kidnapped me?” The emotional turmoil heaved through her. “I thought we were friends, Warren.” Even if he was partly responsible for Aaron’s death, she wouldn’t have thought he’d be capable of wilful maliciousness towards her.

He turned to her at the last moment with those burning eyes of hatred. “I thought so too, kitten.”

2

Warren

Watertingedredwithblood seeped into the shower drain.

He’d lost his temper with Paul Charlton.Deservedly so.

The first rays of dawn were splashed across the landscape as Warren stumbled out of the shower. He swiped a hand through the condensation fogging up the mirror, grumbling at the bloodshot eyes looking back at him. Attempting to blink away the grittiness, Warren dressed himself slowly. It wouldn’t be the first night he’d gone without sleep. It wouldn’t even be the first night he’d gone without sleep because of Paul Charlton.

The nights in the hospital had been the worst. After he’d been pulled out of Paul’s car in pieces and rushed to hospital in a screaming ambulance, protesting his innocence all the way. The next time he’d woken was to find his room guarded by a police officer, who told him he was under arrest for causing death by careless driving under the influence of drink or drugs. Aaron’s death, no less. His best friend. The words that ruined his life.

When Warren should have been focusing on the long process of grieving and trying to regain his independence, he’d instead been imprisoned. He’d spent the first year of his sentence in the prison’s healthcare wing, surrounded by dying criminals and the repetitive noises of unceasing equipment.

He’d been 18, still half a boy.

Through the two-sided mirror, Warren watched Kate with keen eyes. She’d curled herself into a tight little ball in her sleep.

He shouldn’t have gone in to see her last night.Thathad been a mistake.

The bookkeeper. She was the fucking bookkeeper.

There hadn’t been a whisper of Kate when Warren had been investigating Charlton’s Gentlemen’s Club. She was never seen there, nor was there any sign of her on the security cameras. The employees had no knowledge of her. Warren had assumed that—given the trainwreck her father had turned into—Kate had simply bailed and found happiness elsewhere. He hadn’t expected her to be as dirty as Paul himself.

Please, Paul. Don’t do this! Please!

Warren’s pitiful voice echoed in his mind, as clear as the day he’d said the words, trying to drag himself out of the crumpled car.

The day he’d been released, Warren had sworn he’d never be that weak again.

He stepped out into the bedroom corridor, almost running headfirst into Linda. His housekeeper was a short, rotund woman, ruling the house with an iron fist.

“You need to get those seen to,” Linda said with a frown, pointing at his hands. “They’ll be black and blue by this evening.”

Warren casually glanced down at his split knuckles. She was right, of course, but he shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Linda shoved a hand on her hip. “Dare I ask?”

“It was in the cellars.” Braxton was likely readying the pressure washer as they spoke. “Nothing you have to worry about.”

“I’d better not,” she warned him. “Will that girl in your bedroom need feeding?”

Kate. His nostrils flared when he thought of how he’d acted with her last night… The moment she’d pressed her body against his, clutching him tightly, he’d lost his mind. His kitten. Where was the sweet girl he’d always known? Lost somewhere in the body of a wildcat.

“No.” After what she’d done, she could starve.

Warren didn’t bother knocking on the bedroom door. He wrenched it open, powering against the chair she’d wedged under the door handle in the night. The chair legs screeched against the floor, setting his teeth on edge.

---