Priceless Kiss: A Billionaire Possession Novel Read online

  But I didn’t. All I knew this morning was that the Ashworth estate was up for grabs, and I wanted the first shot at it.

  “She’ll call,” I mutter to myself as I cruise through the front entrance, into the smaller showroom that serves as a kind of airlock. Only serious customers come through to the much larger displays in back and the auction room.

  An old woman stands at the reception desk, looking anxiously from side to side. Where the hell is the receptionist? Kathy never takes a break unless she’s covered.

  It’s a damn good thing I walked in at this moment. If you’re smart about buying and selling—and you have to be, if you’re like me and you want to sift through the entire world and find the most valuable items you possibly can—you never turn down a sale. And this woman clearly has something on her hands. Probably in the massive purse she’s got a death grip on.

  I put on my most charming smile. “Good morning, ma’am. Can I help you with anything?”

  She looks up into my face. “Young man, I’m waiting to meet with the appraiser.”

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  She tilts her head to one side, then the other. “A little while.”

  I extend my hand. “My name is Levi Blake, and I own this little enterprise. I’d be happy to take a look at anything you’ve brought in.”

  The woman’s hand tightens on the handle of her bag, and she looks me up and down. She must like what she sees because she gives a firm nod and then shuffles closer to the desk. I step up to her side.

  From the purse, she pulls out a faded armband wrapped in a tissue. I recognize it instantly—anyone who’s ever heard of World War II would—but I also know, the moment I see it, that it’s not authentic. The originals were made from heavy cotton or wool, and this one—though it looks old—has a shine to it that signals its polyester origins.

  With shaking hands, she puts the tissue in mine, careful not to touch the fabric of the armband with her fingers. “It was my husband’s. He brought it back from the war.” Her jaw quivers. “I don’t—” She breaks off abruptly, raising a hand to her mouth. “I hate what it stands for.” She drops her voice like someone might be listening in. “And I hate giving up his things. If I didn’t need the money...” Her voice hitches, but then she lifts her chin. “What might an artifact like this be worth?”

  My instinct is to tell her the truth—that it’s worthless. But her eyes are a startling blue under a sheen of tears. It reminds me of Ruby Ashworth.

  I pretend to examine the armband in great detail, and then I level the most serious gaze I can at the old woman. “I can offer you...two thousand dollars.”

  Her mouth drops open and her shoulders sag with relief. “You can?” Over her head, I see Kathy, followed by one of my appraisers, Sean, start to rush back in from the main display room. I give them a shake of my head, and they turn around, disappearing immediately from the scene. “Oh, my—” She shakes her head. “I never hoped...” Tears spill from her eyes, and she pulls a handkerchief from her purse and dabs at her face.

  It’s a quick transaction—she leaves with a check in twenty minutes, thanks to my skill at expediting matters like this—and I’m left standing in the outer display room, a fake piece of memorabilia in my hand and Ruby Ashworth on my mind. Another jolt of heat runs down my spine.

  I should forget about her right now, before I make any other stupid business decisions.

  I drop the armband into the garbage bin behind the reception desk and head for the main showroom.

  I should push her right out of my head.

  I should.

  Chapter 3

  Ruby

  The front door closes with a soft click, and I brace myself.

  This hasn’t been anything like what I was picturing. I’d imagined myself standing downstairs in the foyer, greeting people and even directing them toward items they might be interested in—even though that’s hardly my job. I’d imagined standing guard over my family’s precious items until just the right people came to claim each one. I imagined, probably foolishly, that I’d have some sort of influence over it all.

  I imagined, at least, that I’d be able to face it.

  The first two hours of the sale went on beneath me while I sat in the window seat of an upstairs bedroom that had been cleared just to give a person—namely me—a place to step away during the sale.

  I sat there until I was so disgusted with myself that I leaped up and stormed back downstairs, calm only at the last step. What are you doing, Ruby? Sulking in a bedroom? No wonder the entire family’s being dragged down into this ridiculously horrible situation. You can’t even handle an estate sale.

  I’d tried to make myself useful for the last three hours, but mainly ended up showing Edward’s staff to the bathrooms and wandering through the rooms.

  Nobody needed my help.

  Nobody needed much of our stuff, either.

  By the time Edward closes the door, my heart is pounding furiously. Now, instead of being afraid to sell this mountain of antiques, I’m afraid that nobody’s bought anything—that I’ve ruined the entire enterprise for all of us with my stupid desire to keep it all with me. One of his staff, a tall man with a baby face and broad shoulders, steps up beside him, pressing a tablet into his hand and murmuring something into his ear.

  This is the moment of truth.

  Edward frowns, and my heart plummets into my toes. This is not good.

  The staff members disappear, fading into different corners of the house, as Edward approaches me. I’m not going to cry about this. I’m not going to do a damn thing other than accept the results of the sale gracefully. We could always have another one, although I’m not sure anyone would be especially attracted to the leftovers.

  Maybe I should have taken that deal from Levi Blake.

  No. I shouldn’t have accepted the deal out of hand. I should have gotten a damn grip and negotiated with him.

  Stop.

  I command the circular arguments in my mind to cease until I hear from Edward.

  “Ruby,” he says softly, “is there somewhere you’d like to sit to discuss this?”

  My mouth goes dry. “The living room is fine.”

  We cross the foyer and go into the formal living room at the front of the house, the furniture a mix of antique pieces and modern touches. All of it still has tags on it. I can’t locate anything missing from the room at all. My pulse thuds in my temples. Is it relief or panic?

  We perch on a Victorian sofa—imposing, overstuffed, and wildly uncomfortable. Edward doesn’t show it in his face, but I can’t help shifting on the rock-hard cushions. No wonder we never spent any time in this room when I was growing up. In a way, though, I’m glad it’s still here. Nobody snatched it out from under me.

  Edward considers the tablet in front of him, like he’s searching for the perfect frame to display the information in, but then he presses his lips together and hands it over.

  I take it in my hands, forcing myself not to tremble. I am not going to lose it. I am not.

  The instant the numbers register, they blur before my eyes, and before Edward can speak I’m blinking hard, swallowing down the painful ache that’s risen in my throat.

  “This is a list of the inventory that we’ve sold today,” Edward says, drawing a graceful finger down the too-short list on the screen of the tablet. “And this is the total.”

  The number at the bottom of the list is hardly enough to make a dent in my brother’s medical bills, much less find my parents a more permanent place to live. A sickening shame blooms in my chest. It’s not even as much as the number Levi Blake threw in my face this morning. It’s not that much by about half.

  And it’s my fault.

  Edward doesn’t say it out loud—he doesn’t have to. I can see from the columns next to the list—the tagged prices neatly in a row next to the sale prices—that he followed my instructions to the letter. They didn’t negotiate at all. That has to be why the list is so
small—there’s plenty here that’s worth a fortune. If I walked through the house right now, I could pick out the more valuable ones. Those were the pieces my mother wouldn’t let us touch. I can hear her now, her voice gentle but firm as she pulled our hands away. Not this, Ruby. Not this.

  “All right.” I look over the tablet one more time, but the letters run together. I don’t recognize any of the items by these descriptions, anyway—antique rug with rose and lily pattern means nothing. I would do better with something like rug Ruby spilled hot chocolate on during Christmas when she was nine and gave her mother seven heart attacks. “I’m assuming you’ll be sending a copy of this?”

  “It’s in your inbox right now.”

  “That’s great. That’s—that’s really great.” I force myself to meet Edward’s eyes, even if the pity there—more pronounced than before—turns my stomach. I stand up from the sofa.

  Edward follows my lead. “About the tags…”

  At first, I don’t know what he’s talking about, and then I catch a glimpse of one of the small blue tags, big enough to read but not so large that it ruins the look of any of the pieces. “What about them?”

  “Did you want us to go through and remove them, or leave them in case of—”

  “Leave them. Just leave them.”

  A desperate energy is thrumming in my veins. I have to get out of here, and I want Edward and the rest of his people out, too.

  They’re gone in a matter of minutes, Edward promising to check back with me to see if I want to run a second sale, and I gather up my things. My purse. My keys. When I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, something shiny and black flutters to the floor.

  Levi Blake’s card.

  My mouth twists into a scowl. No. Not Levi Blake. No matter how desperate I get.

  I toss his card into the nearest bin and head out into the evening, head held high.

  Chapter 4

  Levi

  I can’t get Ruby Ashworth out of my head.

  I spend the rest of the day in the display rooms, going through the setups and reviewing whether these pieces are absolutely the ones that should be presented to buyers. I want them sold, not sitting here. They’re worthless to me if they’re only in this room to take up space. A few I have moved back to the warehouse for the auction next month—I want it to be curated flawlessly—and a few others I have brought down and put out.

  I pull one of my associates, Clarissa, to tweak the lighting on a pair of Japanese vases in bronze. I’m not particularly taken with the vases, but there’s something in the curve of one of the decorative cranes worked onto the surface of the vases in silver that reminds me of the curve of Ruby’s neck sloping into her shoulder under the boatneck sweater she wore. That creamy skin, exposed by her blonde hair twisted back behind her head, fills my thoughts, replacing the cranes, replacing the vases, replacing the entire showroom.

  I want to run one of my fingers down that slope, then hook it underneath her neckline to feel the warmth caught between the fabric and her naked skin. I want to curl my fingers underneath the hem of that shirt and tug it off over her head, freeing her pert breasts from cover. She just looked so damn innocent that it’s like staring at a blank canvas. Who wouldn’t want to rough up the surface with a little paint?

  And those lips, those big blue eyes…maybe they were flashing with hate, but if I’m not mistaken, there was something more there, too. I saw those nipples rising through what must have been a bra with forgiving fabric. Or no bra at all.

  “Are you getting ready to have intercourse with these vases?”

  The voice that breaks into my thoughts is a familiar one, and I’m laughing before I turn around. “What do you want, you greedy bastard?”

  Jasper Pace’s blue eyes twinkle with his own laughter. “I’m only half as greedy as I was last year. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  I clap him on the shoulder like we’re a pair of old men and incline my head sagely. “A man’s thoughts are not always centered on the things before his eyes.”

  He chuckles. “Well, tone it down, Romeo. You’re giving the old ladies a fit.” Jasper nods his head to the side, where a pair of ancient women are looking at me from the corners of their eyes. The rosy color in their faces tells me that there’s probably an outward…indication that I’ve been thinking about Ruby. I give them a roguish grin, and one turns away, tittering something to her friend.

  “Thanks for the heads-up, buddy.” I discreetly adjust myself, dragging my mind away from what lies underneath Ruby Ashworth’s clothes. “What did you come in here for, anyway?”

  Jasper rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing, looking for something priceless from a guy like you.”

  “I recognize value in many different forms. Are you looking for something specific?”

  His eyes travel around the pieces in our immediate vicinity but his gaze doesn’t settle on anything. “I’m converting one of the rooms at my place in the Hamptons into a kind of studio for Isabella. Somewhere she can work on her designs when we’re not in the city.”

  “That woman never slows down.” Isabella Gabriel’s profile has risen considerably since their wedding in the spring, but she still works like a madwoman—at least, that’s what I hear from Jasper when I see him around town. Isabella isn’t usually with him when he’s out during the day. She wants a worldwide empire to rival Pace, Inc., and I think Jasper loves that about her. “She’s a perfect match for you.”

  “Don’t I know it.” A sentimental expression comes over his face.

  I raise my eyebrows. “You’re still that head over heels?” Jasper was not one to get sentimental about women when we were in college together. Then he went and cried at his wedding, tears slipping down his cheeks.

  He leans in. “Have you seen my wife? Damn right, I’m still head over heels.”

  I look toward the ceiling, pretending to rein in a mild disgust. “This is—this is all too much, Jasper. Let’s get back to the original topic.”

  “Your sexual interest in these vases?”

  I put an arm around his shoulders and steer him in the opposite direction. “Your mind is in the gutter, my friend. Luckily, I’ve been thinking about business, so I’ve come up with the perfect piece for you.”

  Forty-five minutes later—Jasper never decides anything quickly—he’s paying for some sketches of pendant designs by one of the Renaissance greats—jewelry that was ultimately worn by the cream of the crop and even royalty. “Where is she, by the way?” I lean against the polished mahogany counter while Clarissa wraps up the sketches in their protective case.

  “Isabella?” Jasper signs the slip and pushes it across the counter toward Clarissa. “She’s home.” There’s a wicked glint in his eye.

  “As long as she’s not at work on a Saturday.”

  “You’re at work on a Saturday. Since when do you personally assist clients in choosing pieces?”

  I give him a look. “Since always.” Although lately I’ve been spending more time in the warehouse, sifting through shipments from estate sales. Clarissa is always shaking her head when she finds me in there, but what the hell is the point of running your own business if you can’t do the parts you like? Yes, there’s a certain thrill in strolling into an estate sale and taking the whole thing, a certain cold lust that runs through my veins when I pull it off, but I like to get my hands dirty.

  In a sense.

  “I actually just got back from an estate sale. I was on my way to the warehouse and got…caught up in a few things down here.”

  Jasper nods. “How’d it go?”

  “Terrible. The representative rejected me.”

  Jasper faux-gasps. “Who would ever reject the callous and unfeeling Levi Blake, notorious dealmaker and haggler?”

  Jasper should talk, but now more images of Ruby are flashing through my mind, one by one, still pictures of her lips, the curve of her waist, those blue eyes just aching for… “Ruby Ashworth. Of the Conyers Farm
Ashworths.”

  He narrows his eyes. “I’ve heard that name. Frank Ashworth was big into biotech?”

  “Yeah. The company went under. A scandal. And then the son had some kind of accident—I don’t know many details. I just went to the sale.”

  “Ruby’s the wife?”

  “Ruby’s the daughter.”

  Jasper’s eyes crinkle in a conspiratorial smile. “What’s she like? Obviously savvy enough to reject you.”

  “She’s…” God, why can’t I think of her without every inch of me aching to get back to that house, to get back to her? “She’s something else.”

  Jasper nods, looking me in the eye. “Sounds like she’s worth the chase.”

  Chapter 5

  Ruby

  I’m trapped, suffocating, and I can’t get out. I can’t get out...

  “Shit!” I shout the word into the pitch-dark of my own apartment, struggling with everything I have to untangle myself from the comforter. It’s caught over my face like it’s being held there by invisible hands, and I can’t get it off, I can’t get it off—

  Finally, with one last violent tug, it comes free. I jump out of the bed, anxious for space, and stub my toe on the narrow desk that’s wedged between the bed and the wall, not enough room for a chair between them. The pain, sharp and pure, sends me tumbling back onto the bed, clutching my toe.

  “Fuck.” At least this time it’s muffled by the pillow.

  I grit my teeth, waiting for the pain to subside, holding onto that toe for dear life. It seems like a thousand years before it recedes, but my heart still races.

  My toe wouldn’t be throbbing if I hadn’t taken things to this extreme. I could have rented a slightly bigger place, dipped into my savings a little—but no. No, I can’t afford to do that now.