Complete We (A Her Billionaires Novella #4) (3 page)

“Let’s not.” Mike walked up behind Laura and placed a long, strong, protective arm around her shoulders, careful not to jostle her and spill the coffee she carried.

“Let’s not what?”

“Talk about Frank.”

Mike’s jaw tightened and his face turned worried. For no clear reason, Josie’s heart squeezed and she wished Alex were here. He’d called earlier—a birth had turned into a messy surgical case—and there was no hope of seeing him for at least eight hours. Which normally was fine and no big deal, but this Frank business was turning
into
a big deal.

“Why would he come and see you, Josie, and not Laura?” Mike asked. She knew he already had his own ideas, but was trying to tease it out. They could analyze Frank’s actions all they wanted, but answers were fleeting.

She shrugged. “No idea. But when I go over that conversation, he was clearly fishing for information on Laura.”

Laura’s grip on one of the coffee mugs tightened, and her hand was shaking as she lifted it to drink. Mike unwrapped his arm from her shoulders and wordlessly took Dylan’s mug out of her hands. She gave him a grateful look.

Laura sighed. “He wants money, just like he did after my mom died. Mom told me he did the same thing after my grandparents died. He just does this.”

Mike seemed to struggle with whether to say anything. Josie felt for him. A million questions swirled through her disjointed brain, but she couldn’t find a tactful way to ask any of them.

Fortunately, Mike did. “And did anyone give him money?”

Nodding as she sipped more of her now-lukewarm coffee, Laura answered, “Sure. Mom and Frank split everything after Grandma and Grandpa died. Fifty-fifty, even though my grandparents left more to Mom. Mom said it was easier and more ethical that way.” A pained expression clouded her face. “But a bunch of family heirlooms went missing. Mom always wondered…”

“You think he stole them?” Josie asked.

Laura gave her a tiny shrug, tentative but clear.

“And after your mom died, he put the thumbscrews on you,” Mike said in an angry voice.

Josie just looked at Laura with as much compassion as she could. “Really? You never talked much about it.”

Laura’s face reddened. “I wasn’t sure
how
to talk about it. Mom died and between insurance and whatever assets she had, there was a small amount. A little more than five figures. But Frank came along and pushed for me to sue for pain and suffering and a bunch of issues related to her asthma attack and the car accident.”

“But you didn’t. I would have heard about it,” Josie said, frowning.

This time, Laura’s red face came from anger. “Frank…well,
bullied
is the wrong word, though it’s the first one that comes to mind. He
shamed
me. I can see that now, but I couldn’t understand it then. He told me this was private, a family affair, and I shouldn’t talk about it with anyone. That there could be legal ramifications.” She gave Josie a pleading look. “So I didn’t. Not even with you.”

A big lump formed in Josie’s throat. “Laura, I’m so sorry.”

“No,
I’m
sorry. I should have shared.”

A ragged breath escaped Josie. “No! No! I understand why you didn’t talk about it, and I’m not hurt or offended or whatever. I mean, I’m sorry Frank did that to you. Your mother’s death was hard enough on you, but to have him do that to you on top of it all is so disgusting!”

Mike and Josie shared a look of well-defined righteous anger on Laura’s behalf.

At that exact moment, Dylan called out to the group, “Help? Can I have someone take over? My arm’s about to fall off and I am in need of a caffeine injection!”

The three of them walked over, Mike taking on the onerous task of pushing Queen Jillian over and over as she leaned forward in the baby swing and chomped happily on the black plastic edge.

“Oooooh, gross,” Josie exclaimed, unable to help herself.

All three parents didn’t react. “Whatever. She teethes on anything. At least it’s not the toilet brush handle,” Dylan said casually.
Too
casually.

“What?” Mike and Laura said in horror. Josie couldn’t even speak.

“That was a joke,” Dylan hastily replied.

“Better be,” Laura muttered under her breath.

“Speaking of things that live in toilets, are you guys talking about Frank?” Dylan asked, then gulped the entire mug of coffee down in an impressive display of throat muscles and desperation. “Ah…coffee. My mistress,” he added with a wink to Laura.

She gave him a wan smile. “Just telling Josie about how Frank convinced me to give him money after Mom died.”

His face contorted. “That bastard. I wish I’d been there. Wish I’d been part of your life…”

“
I
was part of her life, and it sounds like he manipulated her so badly,” Josie declared.

“I’m not the same person I was back then,” Laura said softly. “I made mistakes. I undervalued myself.” She pulled herself up to her full height. “I let myself think I was lesser than other people, that I was inferior.”

Dylan pulled her in for am embrace, kissing her cheek. “You’re anything but.”

“I know that
now
. But I didn’t know it then, and Frank has this…way about him. A charm. A manipulation or, like, a—”

Josie nodded. “A pull. Like he’s your friend. Like he’s the—”

“Nicest guy in the world,” Laura and Josie said simultaneously.

Laura shot Josie a shocked look. “You felt it, too?”

“Yep. He’s smooth.
Too
smooth. But even a jaded old bitch like me started to find him intriguing. Alluring. Like he made me feel important even as he picked my pocket. He’s one hell of a
something
.”

Laura just nodded.

“What did you give him? And did you sue?” Josie asked.

Laura’s shoulders slumped at Josie’s question. Peals of laughter came from Mike and Jillian, and an involuntary smile spilled over Josie’s face. A flash of a tiny, dark-haired little girl, a blend of her and Alex, hit her be-ribboned brain like a lightning strike.

That made her smile even more.

Set her heart a’spinnin’, too.

“I looked into suing. Took Frank with me to a few attorney consults, but they were clear: I could sue, but there really wasn’t cause for wrongful death. She had an asthma attack and lost control of the car. It really was that basic. And Frank spent most of the time trying to find a way to get the attorney to tell him how he could sue.”

“Why would you sue, though?” Dylan asked. “I’m no lawyer, but I testified sometimes as a paramedic for some nasty car crashes. And the only way a family member can sue is, well…” His brows knitted. “I don’t remember the details, but you can’t just sue. You have to have a good reason.”

“That’s what the lawyers all told him. He got more and more upset, less and less smooth as each appointment led to more of the same.”

“And then…” Josie said.

“And then it’s like he just stopped. Not so much gave up, but pivoted. Changed his mind. He told me he’d been secretly helping Mom financially for years, and asked for some—later,
half
—of her estate.”

“You gave it to him?” It took everything inside Josie not to scream the words with incredulity. Only respect for Laura and love for the woman who’d been is no much pain held her back.

“Yes.” Forlorn and embarrassed, Laura gave Josie a look that begged her to stop judging. “I just wanted him to go away.”

“And now he’s back.” Josie sighed. What a mess.

“He’s back, and you have
us
to make sure he never takes advantage of you again,” Dylan said.

Laura’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you see, Dyl? That’s the problem. You two and Jillian, I mean.”

Dylan flinched. “We’re
problems
?”

“You and Mike have trust funds totaling $2.2 billion. Maybe even more now. Back then I had a little over $11,000. He went away after a while.”

“And you don’t think he’s going away this time?” Dylan swelled, his thick chest seeming to grow with a long, deep breath of anger and protectiveness that made Josie feel secure, and she wasn’t even his partner.

Laura’s words punctured that security.

“Not easily.”

“
Three
plates of fried food?” Madge asked with skepticism, but scribbled the order on her electronic device. “And three pieces of cheesecake? Or more? How many of you are coming?”

“Just me and Darla,” Laura peeped.

Madge’s mouth twisted into an apprising frown, as if she were impressed. “That’ll do. You need to talk about your threesomes, huh?” Sunlight flashed on a small ring on Madge’s hand as she placed the order on her handheld electronic device, making Laura blink.

“Excuse me?” Laura choked.

Madge thumbed toward the door, as if there were some meaning Laura was supposed to get from the gesture. “You two didn’t get a chance to really talk when you had that posse of men in here, stumbling over themselves to prove how cool they all were.”

“Right.” Laura’s body went hot and cold, and she froze. Now she was talking about her personal life with Madge?

“We have a new specialty. Maple jalapeño—”

“You can stop right there and just bring us a plate,” said a voice Laura recognized, bushy blonde frizz invading the space between her and Madge. Bright green eyes, same color as Laura’s but so different, perfectly round and constantly evaluating everything she saw, sharp and calculated, met Laura’s.

Darla.

“Howzitgoin’?” she said to no one in particular and yet to both Laura and Madge at the same time. It was a neat trick. Making people feel comfortable seemed to be embedded in Darla’s DNA.

And that was exactly why Josie had hired her. Laura understood now that it wasn’t just that Josie wanted to help her niece—which was perfectly understandable if that were the only reason to hire her. It went deeper. Not only was Darla in a permanent threesome, like Laura, she also possessed a gift of being so real. A little too real sometimes, but if you had to err in a direction, it was always better to tip toward the awkward than to be aloof.

Darla reached around behind Madge and began to fill a carafe with coffee, plunked it on the table, and snagged two mugs.

“You want a job as a waitress?” Madge asked with arched eyebrows.

“That can be my fallback,” Darla said with a wink.

“I said that too, honey. Sixty-six years ago…” Madge’s cackle sprinkled the air with something that made Laura smile as the old woman put in their order, yelling something to the cook in the back.

“We finally meet. Alone,” Laura said as Darla poured herself a cup of coffee and dumped enough sugar in it to turn the mug into a pile of rock candy.

“No Josie. That means actual words will be exchanged between us,” Darla cracked. Sizzling sounds of a deep fryer percolated through the nearly empty restaurant as Laura took a tentative sip of her own java.

“So.” Darla’s word came with a sigh. Her eyes were bright with repressed eagerness. “Time to talk threesomes.”

“Yes.”

How do I do this?
Laura wondered. Darla made it easy.

“You wanna talk about sex? Or emotions? Or what to do when one of ’em is jealous? Or how—”

“How about we ask each other questions and just take it from there?” Laura said, struggling to find a way to make sense of this. Maybe she was being silly. Josie had strongly urged her to schedule this follow-up meeting, but now she was beginning to regret it.

“You go first.” Darla dumped half the cream pitcher in her coffee and looked nervously around the room.

“Sure. So…does your mom know about you and Trevor and Joe?”

Darla began to choke, barely holding in what looked like a big swallow of coffee. As her throat spasms kicked in, Laura felt guilty. Wrong question to start with.

“Ah. No,” Darla coughed out. “She wouldn’t understand. She just thinks I moved out here for the job Josie got me.”

“She doesn’t know anything about Joe and Trevor?”

Darla shook her head slowly. “She kinda thinks I’m dating Trevor.”

Laura shot one eyebrow up. “Kinda?”

Darla’s shoulders slumped. “Uncle Mike saw me on the side of the road with Trevor and Joe, and then he gave me a ride to move out here, and it’s like damage control, you know? Like politicians do. I had to give a tiny
sliver
of the truth to cover up the big fucking
whopper
of a truth so dangerous it couldn’t be said.”

Laura just blinked, taking that in. “Your turn,” she said, dipping her head to drink more coffee.

“You three do a lot of DP?”

Laura’s throat closed up and seized, tears pouring down the sides of her face as she set down her mug, hands flapping, cold water not helping. “What?” she croaked.