Stolen (Book One) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (4 page)

If she did, it was out of desperation—and Harper wasn’t desperate enough to fall for his empty excuses.

She reached out and took her mother’s hand, gave it a squeeze. Her mother glanced over and smiled in return. It didn’t reach her eyes.

“Everything’s going to be okay. This will all get settled and things will go back to normal,” her mother said.

Her denial was driving Harper crazy. Sometimes she just wanted to grab her mother’s shoulders and shake her and demand that she open her eyes. See that the only thing her father thought he did wrong was to get caught.

And Harper didn’t have the heart to force her mother to see that, not when she was holding on to sanity by such a thin thread as it was.

The car glided to a stop and Harper took a deep breath. The steps to the courthouse were a mob of reporters and people with pickets.

The signs said things like
No Mercy for the 1%
or
Put Him in Prison and Throw Away The Key.

“Remember, don’t say a word.” Her father’s deep voice filled the backseat. “When we get to the top of the steps and have the legal team around us, I’ll stop and make a statement. Then we’ll go inside. Reporters aren’t allowed in the courtroom.”

The door opened and the throng pushed closer. Security held them back but questions were being fired even before they stepped out of the car.

“Remember, not a word,” her father said to her, before stepping out of the car first. Her mother followed. After the crowd next to the car thinned, Harper emerged. Most of the attention was on her parents, but a few reporters thrust their microphones in her face.

“Any comment on your father’s criminal activity?” one asked.

“Did you know your father was stealing money, Ms. Matheson? Are the rumors true that he’s hiding most of it in the Caymans and Swiss accounts?”

Harper kept her face impassive as she followed close behind her parents.

The truth was, she had no idea how much of it was left. Her father had stolen so much, lost quite a bit, and supposedly hidden more. But she was as in the dark with the nature of his fraudulent activities as anyone else.

At the top of the steps they stopped and with his legal team all around him, her father stepped to the microphone that had been set up.

Harper had already seen the comments his publicists gave him earlier. A bunch of bullshit about wanting to do what was right and that the truth would come out. That he wasn’t a crook, just a victim like everyone else.

Harper had read the paper, knew the allegations against her father and had come to her own conclusions. Ones that didn’t match up with her mother’s blind trust.

The crowd grew thicker and her father spoke, reciting the words he’d been given.

Off to the side, half a dozen reporters broke away and surrounded two men who had been walking up the steps just behind them. Her father paused, glanced over at the two men, and his eyebrows drew down, but then he straightened his shoulders and concluded his speech, refusing to take any questions.

The reporters swarmed her father, peppering him with accusations as he continued to refuse to talk further.

As she stood there, being jostled beside her parents, she saw the one man who hated her father more than anyone on the planet.

Robert Wentworth was just a few feet away from them now. The man who lost the most money to her father’s scheme, the man who most vocally called for justice and was putting his own reputation on the line to ensure that justice was done.

Along with plenty of other victims, Robert Wentworth had lost an untold fortune to her father. But unlike many of her father’s victims, Wentworth was not broke because of the scheme.

He was still one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the country. And he was angry as hell about being fleeced.

“Mr. Wentworth, what are you hoping the outcome of today will be?” a reporter asked.

“Obviously I am against moving the venue of the trial,” Wentworth said. “And I’m here today to make sure that the con artist Bud Matheson is held accountable for his trickery and lies.” His voice rang out loudly on the courtroom steps.

The reporters gave way as Robert Wentworth began advancing once more.

Harper froze, her gaze on the man at Robert Wentworth’s side. His hair was cut shorter and the beard was gone, but she knew by the way her skin tightened that it was Ethan. And she knew then that Ethan was actually Ethan Wentworth, the son of Robert and heir to an empire. Her gaze darted between the two men. They had the same build. The same hair color. The same jaw shape.

Ethan looked up and when he met her stare, his eyes widened in shock. His gaze slid from her to her parents and then back again. Disbelief. Anger. Accusation.

All of those expressions flitted across his features in rapid succession.

The ground tilted and Harper took a small step back.

Ethan, the man she’d slept with in Tahiti was Robert Wentworth’s son?

Her pulse pounded in her ears and her stomach roiled. The bug that had plagued her the last few days chose that moment to rear up. Without excusing herself, she turned and ran up the steps to the courthouse.

Inside the restroom, cool air washed over her skin as she sank down and emptied her stomach into the toilet. The stupid virus hadn’t let up after all. The room was empty as she wet a paper towel and patted it over her heated skin. After she rinsed her mouth out, she caught sight of her reflection. Her eyes were still too wide. Her face a little too pale.

When she’d tried to argue that she was too sick, shouldn't attend the hearing, her father had put his foot down.

We must appear in public, unified as a family.

God she hated all of that public relations crap.

Harper groaned. If she’d never come today, she could have lived in ignorance a little while longer. Now she knew. She’d slept with a man who would have hated her if he’d known her last name.

A man that would have just as soon spit in her face as kiss her lips, had she told him who she was.

“Of all the men in all the world,” she muttered at herself. “Of course I ended up running into the one guy in that part of the world connected to my father’s case.”

Harper patted her face down once more to cool it off.

Harper pushed out of the restroom and when she looked up, her feet stopped moving. Ethan leaned against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest and a very pissed off look on his face. As soon as the door shut behind her, he pushed off and was in front of her. She had to tilt her head to look up at him.

His familiar smell washed over her and she fought the urge to bury her nose in his neck. She knew who he was but it didn’t stop her body from remembering how good it felt to be naked on top of him.

“You’re
Harper Matheson
.” The accusation in his voice slammed into her chest. He said her name as if it was akin to being Charles Manson.

“And you’re Ethan Wentworth. I guess the universe has an ironic sense of humor.” She crossed her own arms across her chest.

“Seriously? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he growled. He drove his fingers through his hair and took a few steps back. “I had no idea who you were. I’ve only seen a few pictures of you. If I’d known who you were...” he didn’t finish his sentence but the implication was clear.

“I could say the same thing,” she snapped.

“Oh, that’s funny.” His lip lifted with anything but a smile. “You have no reason to avoid me. I didn’t do anything illegal—I didn’t steal millions of dollars. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Neither do I,” Harper said. “My father is the one who has to answer for whatever he did or didn’t do.”

Ethan scoffed. “We both know he did all of it.”

She shrugged, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she agreed. “The courts will decide.”

“You know he’s going to be found guilty.” His smirk changed to a sneer. “And maybe you went to the island to see if there was some other way to take the heat off him. Get to my father through me. That’s some sick shit, Harper,” he said, shaking his head.

Anger rose up, swift and volatile. “I went there to get away from all this. I’m so sick of people invading my privacy for a comment on something I have nothing to do with. You think if I went there for some kind of seduction plot I would have waited almost a week to try and meet you? You think that I faked almost drowning, right? Risked my life on the off chance that you’d sweep in and rescue me? When I had no fucking idea who you even were.”

Harper spun around and stormed down the hall.

She was sick. Sick of all of the hate poured on her, taking the blame for her father’s misdeeds, being accused of things she hadn’t done.

But seeing the look on Ethan’s face when he realized who she was had been the worst of all.

“Harper, wait.” Ethan’s voice echoed down the empty hallway and then she heard his footsteps coming up behind her. His fingers were warm on her arm and she reluctantly let him turn her around.

“What?”

He stared into her eyes, his gaze searching, intense. “You really didn’t know?”

“I really didn’t know, Ethan. And even if I had, which I didn’t, I would
not
have been trying to seduce you to help my father. He’s the last person I’d ever pimp myself out for,” she all but spat.

He took a step back and genuine confusion filled his face. “Then why are you here at his side while he denies everything?”

She didn’t have an answer because she didn’t really know. Even though she knew he was wrong, she was standing by her father.

Why?

“Maybe I didn’t know what else to do,” she said softly, and realized that was true. It was something she’d never quite admitted before now.

It felt as if the walls were closing in on her, the same feeling that had sent her to the remote island in the first place. And for a week, she had been able to relax and forget. All the good feeling was gone now though.

“Harper,” he began, his gaze intensifying.

But she couldn’t. Whatever else he was going to tell her, she knew it would be a demand of some sort. Ethan was going to tell her to come out and renounce her father publicly, or to become a secret informant and help the Wentworth’s get their revenge.

Something she couldn’t hear. Something that would only serve to break her down further, and Harper was already broken down enough as it was.

“I’ve got to go.” This time, when he called her name, she didn't stop.

She kept running out of the courthouse, down the street and away from the people who were making her question what the hell she was doing. Around the corner she hailed a cab and gave the driver her home address.
Her
home. Not her parents place.

Fifteen minutes later, the cab stopped at her apartment on Willow Street. Once inside, Harper finally exhaled as she pushed her heels off. Almost immediately the tension started to ease from her shoulders.

She sent her mother a short text telling her that she’d gone home because she wasn’t feeling well then went upstairs to change into something that wasn’t a conservative pantsuit. Once she’d pulled on a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a tank top she twisted her hair into a messy bun.

Padding barefoot back downstairs, she grabbed her laptop and sank down onto the couch. Almost without thought, she typed Ethan’s name into the Google image search. Curiosity might have killed the cat but Harper wanted another glimpse of the cream on top.

Her screen filled with different images of Ethan. Some shirtless, some on a yacht, some where he had on a suit. She wanted to be mad at him for not simply telling her who he was, but she hadn’t exactly volunteered information about herself either.

She honestly had not known who he was, but if she’d have paid any attention to the media she wouldn’t have missed him. Because his eyes were impossible to forget.

So blue they almost looked fake, yet she knew they weren’t. She’d been close enough to see that they were real and amazing. A couple of video links came up and she clicked on one. Ethan rode a surfboard over some pretty massive waves and Harper felt her breath cut off as he entered a tunnel of water.

The wave crashed over itself and whoever was filming started yelling.

Her heart pounded furiously.

Then, screams from the people behind the cameraman. On screen, Ethan popped out of the end of the tunnel right before it crashed onto itself. He rode the wave almost to the beach amid deafening cheering.

The camera zoomed in on him as he strode from the water, board under one arm. The sexy grin on his face was all too familiar. Wet hair hung over his eyes and he pushed it back, making the muscles in his chest ripple. Board shorts hung low on his hips and the indent on each side made her mouth water.

Her fingers twitched like they had a memory of their own. He’d felt hot and rock hard under her touch. Solid. Strong. Despite the air conditioning, her body felt warm. What had he wanted to say to her when she ran out of the courthouse?

Harper scrolled down and clicked an image of Ethan in racing gear. There was a website under the picture and she clicked on that. Over a dozen pictures filled her screen, of Ethan in a racecar, standing by the car, posing with his sexy grin leaning on the car.

Apparently Ethan was making a name for himself on the dirt tracks, if what she read was true. A list of his wins ran down the right hand side of the screen. There were bios of his team too, but it was his she clicked on.

He was twenty-four. A graduate of Columbia University. Had a degree in International Economic Policy. He and his family lived in New York, so they must just be in town for the hearing. Which meant that he’d probably be leaving soon. Disappointment sat heavy in her gut.

When the trial started, she’d probably see Ethan, but by then they would be solidly on opposite sides. If she could see him just once more, to tell him...that she was sorry for the way she acted. That she wished...God why did it have to be him?

Why did he have to be a Wentworth?

She was about to close her browser when she saw a link at the bottom of the page.
Events.
It was a list of where Ethan would be driving. The races that he’d be part of. Next to tomorrow’s date had the name of a raceway in Massachusetts.