Saved By the Billionaire (Curvy Wives of Blackwater Falls #9)

Chapter 1 - Belle

The intercom crackles to life before I even finish pressing the button, and I jerk my hand back like it burned me.

"State your business." The voice is male, professional, completely devoid of warmth.

I stand there, wedding dress train pooled around my feet in the gravel, and realize I have no idea what to say. *Hi, I'm the bride who just ran away from your boss's son's wedding, can I come in?* sounds insane even in my head.

"I..." My voice comes out scratchy, raw from crying on the three-hour bus ride. I clear my throat and try again. "I need to see Richard Kane. Please. It's important."

The security camera mounted above the intercom stares at me like a unblinking eye, and I resist the urge to wave at it. Or flip it off. I haven't decided which impulse is stronger.

"Mr. Kane isn't expecting visitors," the voice says finally. "You'll need to make an appointment through his office."

"I can't." The words tumble out desperate and too fast. "I don't have his office number. I don't have anything. Please, just... tell him it's Belle. Belle Hart. He'll know who I am."

Another pause, longer this time. I can practically hear the security guard's internal debate, weighing protocol against the clearly unhinged woman in a destroyed wedding dress standing at the gate.

I must look like something out of a horror movie: mascara streaked down my cheeks, hair falling out of its elaborate updo, the bottom six inches of my dress stained brown from dragging through bus station bathrooms and gas station parking lots.

"Wait there," the voice says, and the intercom goes silent.

I wait.

The sun is starting to dip lower in the sky, painting everything in shades of gold and amber.

It's beautiful here. All rolling hills and dense forest, so different from the city I left behind this morning.

Was it only this morning? It feels like years have passed since I stood in that bridal suite, looking at myself in the mirror while Victoria fussed with my veil and told me how lucky I was.

"You're marrying into one of the most respected families in the state," she'd said, her perfectly manicured hands adjusting the lace at my shoulders. "Girls would kill for this opportunity, Isabelle. I hope you understand how fortunate you are."

I'd understood, all right. I understood that if I went through with it, Nathan would own me completely. Legally, officially, permanently. The bruises on my ribs, hidden under the fitted bodice of my dress, throbbed with the reminder of what my future held.

So, I ran.

The intercom crackles again, making me jump.

"Mr. Kane will see you." The gates begin to swing open with a low mechanical hum. "Follow the drive to the main house. Someone will meet you there."

Relief hits me so hard my knees almost buckle. "Thank you," I whisper, but the intercom is already silent again.

The driveway is long, impossibly long, winding through dense forest that blocks out most of the fading sunlight.

My heels crunch on the gravel with each step, and I give up after about fifty feet, stopping to rip them off.

The designer shoes Victoria insisted on, crystal-studded and probably worth more than my first car, go sailing into the bushes.

My feet are already covered in blisters anyway.

Walking barefoot feels better, more real. Like I'm actually here, actually doing this, actually free.

The first security checkpoint appears around a bend: a small guardhouse with a barrier arm across the road. A man in black tactical gear watches me approach. He raises the barrier without comment, though I see his eyes track down my dress and back up to my face.

I lift my chin and keep walking.

The second checkpoint is similar, though this guard at least offers me a bottle of water. I take it, mumbling thanks around the lump in my throat. The cold water helps, washing away some of the cotton-mouth terror that's been building since I made the decision to come here.

The third checkpoint is different: two guards, more equipment, and a metal detector I have to walk through. One of them sweeps me with a handheld device that beeps softly as it passes over my body.

"She's clean," he says to his partner, like I'm not standing right there. Like I'm some kind of security threat instead of just a desperate woman with nowhere else to go.

Finally, the driveway opens up to reveal the house.

I stop dead, my breath catching in my chest.

It's massive. Not in the ostentatious way of Nathan's mother's house, all columns and marble and desperate attempts at looking old-money.

This is something else entirely. Modern architecture of glass and steel and clean lines, built into the hillside like it grew there.

Floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the sunset, making the entire structure glow like it's lit from within.

It's a fortress. Beautiful, isolated, and absolutely impenetrable.

Just like the man who built it.

A figure appears in the doorway as I approach: tall, broad-shouldered, backlit so I can't make out his features.

But I know that silhouette, have memorized it from stolen glances and forbidden thoughts and two years of telling myself I was imagining the way my heart raced when he walked into a room.

Richard Kane stands at the entrance to his fortress, and even from here, I can feel the weight of his gaze.

I force myself to keep walking, bare feet on cold stone now, wedding dress train dragging behind me. Each step feels monumental, like I'm crossing some invisible line I can never uncross.

When I'm close enough to see his face clearly, my breath catches all over again.

He's... God, he's devastating. I'd forgotten, or maybe I'd forced myself to forget, just how handsome he is.

Tall and perfectly built, with dark hair that's got just enough silver at the temples to make him look distinguished instead of old.

Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and those eyes, always dark and intense and currently locked on me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve.

He's wearing a suit, because of course he is.

Even here, hiding in the middle of nowhere, Richard Kane is impeccably dressed.

Charcoal gray that probably cost more than I made in a month at my job, the one Nathan made me quit.

The white shirt underneath is open at the collar, no tie, and there's an expensive watch on his wrist that catches the light.

He looks like money, power, success, everything Nathan desperately wants to be and never will.

"Belle." My name sounds different in his mouth, deeper somehow. He doesn't move from the doorway, just watches me climb the last few steps. "What happened?"

The question is simple, direct, and it absolutely destroys me.

I open my mouth to answer, to explain, to tell him everything, but what comes out instead is a broken sob. Then another. And suddenly I'm crying, really crying, for the first time since I ran. All the fear and adrenaline and desperate hope comes pouring out, and I can't stop it.

"I'm sorry," I gasp, trying to wipe at my face with hands that are shaking too hard to be effective. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know where else to go, and you said… You told me if I ever needed help—"

"Come inside." His voice is gentle but firm, the tone of someone used to being obeyed. He steps back, gesturing into the house. "Belle, come inside. You're safe here."

Safe.

The word breaks something else loose in my chest, and I stumble forward, crossing the threshold into Richard Kane's fortress.

The entry hall is enormous. All polished concrete floors and soaring ceilings, but I barely register any of it.

I'm too focused on the man closing the door behind me, sealing us in together.

He turns, and I see his expression properly for the first time. There's concern there, and anger, but not at me. Never at me. The fury in his dark eyes is cold and under control, the kind of rage that comes from seeing something you predicted come to pass.

"It was today, wasn't it?" He's not really asking. "The wedding."

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"And you ran."

Another nod.

He closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them again, something in his expression has changed. Softened. "Thank God," he says quietly. "Thank God you ran."

The relief in his voice does something to me. It makes me feel seen in a way I haven't felt in years. Since the last time I was in a room with him, actually. Since he looked at Nathan across a dining table and told him if he ever saw another bruise on me, there would be consequences.

Nathan had laughed. Told his father he was being dramatic, that I was clumsy, that Richard was seeing things that weren't there.

And Victoria had backed him up, of course, because she always does.

Her precious son could do no wrong, even when the evidence was literally written on my skin in purple and yellow.

"I didn't know where else to go," I whisper, the words scraping past the lump in my throat. "I have no one, and I thought... you said if I needed help..."

"I meant it." He takes a step closer, then stops, like he's forcing himself to maintain distance. "Every word. You did the right thing coming here, Belle. You should have come sooner."

"He wouldn't let me." The admission tastes like failure. "He took my phone, controlled all the money, had Victoria watching me constantly. Today was the first time I've been alone in months, and I just... I ran. I grabbed my purse from the bridal suite and I ran."

Richard's jaw tightens, and I see his hands curl into fists at his sides. "Where is he now?"

"Still at the venue, I think. The ceremony was supposed to start at six. When I didn't show up..." I trail off, imagining Nathan's face when he realized I was gone. The cold fury that would have replaced his public-facing charm. "He's looking for me. He'll be looking everywhere."

"He won't find you here." The certainty in Richard's voice is absolute. "This property is private, unlisted, and very secure. You saw the checkpoints. No one gets in without my express permission."

I nod, wanting to believe him. Needing to believe him.

"But he's your son." The words slip out before I can stop them. "And I just... I ran from him on our wedding day. You don't have to help me. I understand if this is too complicated, if you just want to give me some money and—"

"Belle." He cuts me off, taking another step closer. Close enough now that I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, can smell the expensive cologne he wears, something woody and clean that makes me want to lean in. "Look at me."

I do, tilting my head back to meet his gaze.

"Nathan stopped being my son the moment I realized what he was doing to you," Richard says, his voice low and intense. "I have no relationship with him, no loyalty to him. The only thing I regret about our estrangement is that it meant I couldn't protect you the way I wanted to."

I shouldn't feel this way about my almost-father-in-law. Shouldn't have spent two years imagining what his hands would feel like on my skin, what his mouth would taste like, what it would be like to be held by a man who actually cared about my well-being.

But God help me, I do.

"Thank you," I whisper, because it's the only safe thing to say. "For letting me in. For not turning me away."

He's quiet for a moment, then he shakes his head slowly. "I could never turn you away, Belle. Even if I should."

There's something in the way he says it, some hidden meaning I'm not quite brave enough to examine. So, I don't. I just stand there in my ruined wedding dress, barefoot on his expensive floors, and let myself feel safe for the first time in years.

"You need food," Richard says, breaking the moment. He's all business now. "And clean clothes. A phone so you can close your bank accounts before Nathan freezes them, if he hasn't already. A lawyer, eventually, though we can handle that tomorrow. For tonight, you need rest."

I nod mutely, overwhelmed by the list. By the realization that I hadn't thought past getting here. That I have no plan, no money, nothing but the dress on my back and the hope that Richard Kane would save me.

He has, I realize. He's saving me right now.

"Come on." He gestures deeper into the house. "I'll show you to a guest room. We can figure out the rest tomorrow."

I follow him through the fortress, past expensive art and minimal furniture and those enormous windows that show nothing but forest and darkening sky. Everything is beautiful and cold and perfect, like a magazine spread brought to life.

The guest room he leads me to is on the second floor, at the end of a long hallway. It's huge, bigger than the apartment I used to have before Nathan convinced me to move in with him. King-size bed with white linens, attached bathroom done in marble and glass, a sitting area by the windows.

"There are clothes in the closet," Richard says, not quite looking at me now. "Different sizes. One of my assistants stocks the guest rooms periodically. Find something that fits. The bathroom is fully supplied, take a shower, a bath, whatever you need. I'll have dinner sent up in an hour."

"You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do." He finally meets my eyes again, and there's something fierce in his expression. "Let me do this, Belle. Let me help you. You deserve at least that much."

*You deserve everything,* his eyes seem to say. *You deserve so much more than what my son gave you.*

I swallow hard and nod. "Okay."

He turns to leave, then pauses at the door. "Belle?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you came here." His voice is rough, like the admission costs him something. "I'm glad you ran, and I'm glad you came to me. Whatever happens next, whatever you need, I'm here. You understand?"

I understand more than he probably wants me to. I understand that Richard Kane is dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with his fortress or his security team or the distance he maintains between us.

He's dangerous because he makes me feel things I shouldn't feel. Want things I have no right to want.

But I'm too tired and too broken to care about should or shouldn't right now.

"I understand," I whisper.

He nods once, and then he's gone, closing the door behind him with a soft click. I stand alone in the beautiful guest room, wedding dress heavy on my shoulders, and let myself breathe.

I made it. Against all odds, I actually made it.

Now I just have to figure out what comes next, how to rebuild a life from nothing, how to stay hidden from a man who won't stop looking, how to ignore the way my heart races every time Richard Kane looks at me like I matter.

One problem at a time, I tell myself.

Tonight, I'll take a shower and eat dinner and sleep in a bed where no one will hurt me.

Tomorrow, I'll figure out the rest.

Tomorrow, I'll start becoming whoever Belle Hart is supposed to be when she's finally, actually free.