Read Online The Billionaire's Heart (The Silver Cross Club Book 4) by Bec Linder - Free Book Online Page B

return to the States: fury, and a foolish desire to prove him wrong. My job with MSF paid more than enough to live comfortably in-country, and my head of mission told me she would see about getting me a raise—but it wasn’t about the money, at that point. It was about showing my father that I had become a man.
    Now, months later, I felt less like a man and more like a misguidedly rebellious boy. Such was life.
    As if thinking about my father had somehow drawn his evil, unblinking attention, like the Eye of Sauron pulsating wickedly on the horizon, I received a call on Sunday morning from the oldest of my three younger sisters, the one who had taken over as heir apparent when my father reluctantly conceded that a woman was better than a non-Sloane.
    “Cassie,” I said when I answered, having recognized the number. “What a pleasant surprise.”
    “Elliott,” she said grimly. Cassie and I had never gotten along well, and in the last few years she had turned into a younger, more feminine version of our father, full of disapproval and boring statistics about international markets.
    “What have I done to deserve your attention?” I asked. I was already enjoying myself. Cassie had no sense of humor to speak of, and pissing her off had long been a favorite pastime.
    “Father told me to check up on you,” she said. “He gave me your number. So. I’m checking. What are you doing?”
    “Well, right now, I’m doing laundry,” I said. That was a lie; I was sitting on my bed watching the Duke vs. North Carolina basketball game.
    Cassie sighed. “Don’t be difficult, Elliott.”
    “All right,” I said. “I’m working on my start-up. Which is exactly what I told our father I would be doing. I haven’t starved to death yet, and I’m not out on the streets. You can check up on me again in three months.”
    “Fine,” she said. There was a long pause. I waited. Finally she said, “Kristin would like to hear from you.”
    Kris was my middle and favorite sister. I hadn’t contacted her because I didn’t want to create any problems. I told Cassie as much, and she sighed and said, “You act like Father is the Devil incarnate. I know you’ve had your problems, but he isn’t actually the Gestapo. He isn’t having us followed. He isn’t tapping our phones. You’re allowed to meet Kristin for coffee.”
    I thought he probably was having all of us followed, but I held my peace. “Maybe I’ll call her, in that case. Please keep me abreast of any developments in our father’s attempts to sabotage me.”
    “Good grief,” Cassie said, and hung up.
    I smirked at my phone. Every time I managed to make Cassie hang up on me, I mentally added ten imaginary points to my score.
    Family intrigue was such a delight.
    I called Kris.
    She didn’t answer. I knew she wouldn’t—she screened all of her calls, and she wouldn’t recognize my new number—but I left a message telling her I wanted to see her, and she called back ten minutes later.
    “If you’re not Elliott, you aren’t funny,” she said, when I picked up.
    I broke into a helpless grin at the sound of her voice. I hadn’t seen her in two years, not since the last time I was in New York, and I had missed her every day since then. “It’s really me,” I said.
    “You’re a real jerk, you know,” she said. “You’ve been in New York for months and you didn’t call me.”
    “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry, Kris. I just thought—with our father—”
    “Yeah, I get it,” she said. “Apology accepted. What are you doing right now? Can we get dinner? You know I hate talking on the phone.”
    I glanced at the clock. “Of course. We can go anywhere you want. I’ll even go to that terrible beer garden in Times Square.”
    “You’re watching the Duke game, aren’t you?” she asked.
    “Busted,” I said. “They’re probably going to lose.”
    “You’ll have to drown your sorrows in delicious food, then,” she said. “I know just the place.