Dangerous Mr. Diamond (Brutal Billionaire Bosses #2)

Chapter 1

Audrey Tripp

A tiny body slams into my hip, shoving me off balance and whacking my head on the roof of the trunk.

I yelp, hiss, and catch my forearm on the rubber seal lining the rim, desperate to keep my dress clean despite the needle from the sewing kit sinking into the pad of my thumb.

The little girl bouncing off me shrieks and pinwheels, so I grab her before she falls.

“Abigail, be careful!”

The mother’s frantic voice grates down my spine even as jealousy pierces my heart.

Ever since I ran away from my stepfather and spent a night wandering the streets barefoot and broken only to return home the next morning and find my mom beaten to within an inch of her life ten years ago, I haven’t heard a single kind word from my mother.

She hates and resents me and wishes we both had died that night.

The little girl clings to my arm and sobs.

I swallow my emotions and duck out from under the trunk lid only to blink in horror.

I’ve seen the little princess on television. Every political station has had her face plastered on the screen nonstop for the past two weeks because her father announced his campaign to run for governor of New York.

Dread roots me to the ground. I beg the universe to open a black hole under my feet and whisk me far, far away even if it means a horribly gruesome death.

For several heartbeats, I can’t force myself to move. I can’t let go of the girl. Can’t breathe. Can’t think.

As though trapped in a horror movie, I lift my gaze. A man’s suit fills my vision. Black lapels. Red tie. White shirt.

Pain and humiliation.

I force my attention upward and meet the eyes of my worst nightmare.

Donald Diamond—the monster who attacked me, took his anger out on my mom, then tossed us to the curb ten years ago—walks toward me with his arm around his pregnant wife’s waist.

His surprise morphs into a mix of menace and delight. My ex-stepfather smiles at me. Cold brown eyes trap mine.

Bile climbs up my throat.

I release his daughter and step back. Fear pulses through me. My ears ring.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” His wife’s voice pierces through my panic.

I take another step back and tighten my grip.

The fiery pinprick of pain as the needle sinks deeper into my flesh gives me something to focus on besides the memories flashing through my mind.

“She bolts every time we turn around, and I can’t catch her anymore. Abigail, come here, baby.”

The little girl cries harder. Donald squats in front of her.

I flinch as emotions slam through me. Once upon a time, he did the same to me. I once cherished the way he made me feel and thought I’d be his princess forever.

He proved me wrong.

Blood drips off my wrist. I suck down a breath and move my hand away from the car as I pull my thumb off the needle.

“Oh no! You’re bleeding,” the woman exclaims.

I shake my head and yank a few tissues out of the box in the trunk.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

I need to get away from them. Now. The buzzing in my ears and tightness in my chest warn of an impending panic attack.

My ex-stepfather wipes the tears from Abigail’s face before tucking her hand inside her mother’s and urging them toward the church.

I expected my ex-stepfather and his new family would be here today, but I thought I’d only see him from afar. My best friend, Brook, is marrying one of the richest men in New York City, so of course they invited all the prominent figureheads, including businessmen and politicians.

Donald Diamond is finishing his second term as the mayor of New York City. He wouldn’t miss the opportunity to flaunt his growing family.

Centipedes crawl in my stomach. Ice infects my veins. His wife insists they wait for him. He gestures to the back bumper of my car.

The beads on his daughter’s dress left several thin white scratches on the paint.

Fuck. It’s not my car; I borrowed it from the company. I’ve hauled the CEO around in it for almost a year without incident. Why now?

“Let me exchange information with this young lady, then I’ll be right with you,” my ex-stepfather says.

The hair on my nape rises.

No.

I never want to speak to him again, not even in the parking lot with the sun streaming down and people strolling between the cars.

I stuff tissue between my thumb and the sewing kit and swipe the trail of blood off the side of my hand before reaching for my bag, swinging it onto my shoulder, and grabbing the lid of the trunk.

A smooth, masculine hand covers mine on the metal. My vision swims.

Everything I’ve learned in self-defense class flees from my mind as panic floods my veins.

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.

“I warned you what would happen if I ever saw you again, didn’t I, Audrey?”

Desperation clears my mind. I yank my hand out from under his and knock his arm away before slamming the trunk closed and backing up.

“Leave my mom alone,” I demand.

He smiles and reaches into his suit pocket. My entire body vibrates with tension, and I prepare to bolt even as he pulls out a business card.

“If you really cared about her, you would’ve used all the money I gave you to disappear like I told you to,” he says.

Rage colors my vision. The hush money he threw at us during their divorce was barely enough to save my mom’s life after he beat her. She needed so many surgeries, infusions, and treatments, we ran out within a year. I’ve been supporting us ever since.

It doesn’t matter. I’ll pay for her care. I want nothing from him.

Despite the evil shining from his gaze, I roll my shoulders back and lift my chin.

“I have disappeared. We’re nothing to each other. Today was just an unfortunate accident between strangers. Keep that.” I gesture to his business card. “I don’t want it.”

I spin on my heels and nearly trip on my long skirt as it tangles around my legs, but I fill my fist with the buttery soft fabric and speedwalk around the back of the church. I don’t slow until I turn into the hall with the suites for the wedding party.

When my heart threatens to pound out of my chest, I stop beside a decorative table and lean my back against the wall.

Dark crimson grows on the tissue. I drop my head back, take several calming breaths, and focus on the cheerful sounds drifting out from both the bridesmaids’ and groomsmen’s rooms. Shoving my emotions deep down into the abyss of my soul, I stop myself from destroying the makeup artist’s hard work and instead roll my shoulders before pushing off the wall.

After cleaning the sewing kit, wrapping a bandage on my thumb, and fixing the buttons on two of the bridesmaids’ dresses, I pass the sewing kit to the best man and ensure the entire party has drinks and snacks before joining the bride in her chambers.

I met Brook Simons—soon to be Brook Ricco—eight years ago. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

She smiles and waves as I return but resumes pacing back and forth in her elaborate white gown.

“You’re going to wear a hole in that fancy rug if you don’t sit down,” I joke.

Her eyes light with mirth. She takes a deep breath and relaxes her shoulders.

“What, this old thing?” She scoffs with a gesture toward the ornate rug. “No one will even notice if I do.”

“More like your loaded husband will just throw money at it and expect it to mend itself.”

After the unexpected run-in with my ex-stepfather, I can’t stop the words from escaping the well of hatred festering in my soul. I regret saying them before they pass my lips, but when Brook freezes, fear grips me.

She’s my best friend. Alienating her on her wedding day when she trusted me to be her maid of honor would gut me. The blood drains from my face.

I stand and take an awkward half-step forward as emotions flit through her expression.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Matteo would never…” Words elude me as I walk around the couch. I insulted the man who offered himself as a punching bag for her beloved self-defense class. By the time I clutch her hands in mine, remorse and shame thicken my throat.

“You’re marrying a good man, Brook,” I say.

For a few tense moments, she studies my eyes. I fight the urge to hide behind my sarcasm. She deserves honesty, not deflection.

When she squeezes my hands and nods, relief spears through me.

“I am marrying a good man. You’ll find someone you can trust, too,” she murmurs.

I bite back a scoff and shake my head.

“No, I won’t. I’ll never trust a man again,” I vow.

Especially not after surviving Donald Diamond and his heartless son.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the door to the hall swings wide and her husband-to-be steps into view.

I fight against the urge to flee as his suit swims in my vision.

Every ounce of Brook’s tension melts away. I tear my gaze away from Matteo Ricco and study her face. Her smile fills me with wonder. I look away as tenderness softens his expression.

The sexual tension between them thickens the air.

I swallow my misgivings, squeeze Brook’s hands, and step back as I release her.

“That’s my cue. The ceremony starts in thirty minutes. Don’t be late,” I admonish before making a beeline for the door.

“Hang on, aren’t you supposed to say it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?” she yells after me.

Matteo steps deeper into the room to let me pass.

I shake my head and wave a dismissive hand over my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Brook—I’ll take all the bad luck. I’m used to it anyway. Twenty-nine minutes!”

Even as I shut the door behind me, premonition shivers down my spine. I shouldn’t have tempted fate, not when I know my ex-stepfather and his family are here, but I’ll do anything for Brook. She’s more than family to me. She’s the only one I trust.

I roll my neck and shake out my arms as I start down the hall, erasing the ominous feeling.