Millionaire Crush: A Secret Baby Romance (Freeman Brothers Book 3) Read online

  Millionaire Crush

  A Secret Baby Romance

  Natasha L. Black

  Copyright © 2020 by Natasha L. Black

  All rights reserved.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography

  Model: Blake Carr

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Millionaire Boss (Sample)

  A Note from the Author

  Books by Natasha L. Black

  Connect with Natasha L. Black

  Introduction

  I never take no for an answer.

  But Lindsay is more than an obsession.

  She’s my heart.

  …and she’s in trouble.

  Lindsay is my brother’s best friend.

  She’s as forbidden as she can get.

  Her guard is up.

  The distance between us is plenty.

  Until it’s not.

  I’ve had a taste of her.

  And I absolutely won’t turn my back on her now.

  Her rich ex is keeping her son away from her.

  She deserves to have her kid back.

  And she deserves to be safe.

  Protecting her is my responsibility.

  And keeping her close?

  My dream.

  A dream that I’ll never give up on.

  Even if letting her go is the best thing I could do for my own sanity.

  Book 3 in the Freeman Brothers series brings you Vince and Lindsey’s story. Millionaire Crush is a standalone, full-length romance with burning passion, secrets, and drama. And don't forget the HEA that makes it all worthwhile…

  1

  Vince

  One of these days, my brothers and I were going to come up with a different way to celebrate winning races. Or console ourselves for losing races. Or celebrate birthdays. Or engagements. Or… pretty much anything in life. We were going to find something else to do rather than gather up at the same old bar and sit around the same old table drinking beer and eating massive piles of heart-clogging food.

  I pulled into the parking lot, and before I even opened my door, I heard my other brothers whooping and hollering as they headed across the gravel toward the bar. So, maybe chances of us finding a different way to celebrate were pretty slim. Quentin performed an enthusiastic jump into the air and nearly crashed into the ground at landing. I laughed. I guess it wasn’t so bad to have this tradition.

  It all started with our father, years ago, when he was still young. Then he passed the torch over to Quentin, who spent time at the bar socializing. When he took over the racing company for our parents, celebrations for winning races traveled to the well-worn barstools and cozy booths. As the oldest brother of the four of us, that put him in the position of introducing each of us to the bar in turn. As soon as we turned twenty-one, he ushered us in and we became a part of the tradition. Now, with the baby of the family, Darren, integrated into the fold, this was a place where all four of us could spend time together.

  Dad didn’t find his way in as much as he used to. He liked to say the bar went with Freeman Racing. It was a package deal. And now that he was all gray hair and grandbabies, he didn’t need to be out carousing with the younger folk. Of course, he was far more salt-and-pepper than he was gray, and most people would be hard-pressed to find people anywhere near his age who had half the energy he did. Besides, he and Mom never really left the company. They might have said they were handing it over to Quentin and retiring, but that didn’t actually happen.

  Mom was up at the compound every day, and Dad was there most of the time as well. When he wasn’t, he was most likely still doing something having to do with racing, whether it was working with customers for the custom-bike business he ran on the side or working with Quentin’s wife, Merry, on the next big marketing idea. Merry was a force of nature. She’d blown into the company and instantly made her mark. She’d transformed the company’s image, our popularity, and my brother’s heart.

  And sometimes she even managed to lure my father to the bar with us. Good old Gus had a soft spot in his heart for Merry. She surprised him, and he was hard to surprise.

  That night he was tagging along as we celebrated a massive victory and our buddy Greg finally being on his way to recovery after a horrific accident crumpled him like a tin can. His description, not mine. It took a long time, but he was finally on the mend, and we could see better days ahead. Both of those deserved plenty of celebration

  And for all my waxing poetic about branching out and finding something new, there was nowhere I’d actually rather be.

  It felt almost like home here. We knew the place as well as it knew us, and that included Lindsey Trewes behind the bar. Much like us, she was the new generation of a long-standing business. She’d taken it over from her daddy, who’d taken it over from his. She had always kind of been around. My family’d known hers ever since I could remember, and she showed up in the background of a lot of my memories from when I was younger.

  That’s the way it was with a place like Charlotte. It was like a big city with the heart of a small town. Too big to really be one of those little bitty places where everybody knew everybody. Too small to be isolated and not run into the same people over and over.

  But when it came to Lindsey, it was in a more distant way. I remembered her as being a perfectly nice girl, but she was closer to Nick’s age. They had the same circle of friends when they were younger but weren’t particularly close. That changed when she took over the bar. When she worked there with her father, he kept her mostly to the kitchen and bussing tables. But when she took over the whole thing, she ended up front and center behind the bar. With all our time spent there and the two of them reminiscing about old times, she and Nick ended up thick as thieves pretty quickly.

  That meant the rest of us got to know her better over time, too. And I knew her well enough to be concerned when we walked in and I saw her looking angry. I wasn’t even aware Lindsey had the ability to look like that. She certainly never had in as long as I knew her. Usually happy and smiling, at that moment her eyes could have burned through the brick wall.

  The tightness of her jaw and angry posture
made something twist in my stomach, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I had the compulsion to storm through the other people crowding around the bar and find out what was going on. Before I could start over to her, my brothers called to me from our usual table. I sent one more look in Lindsey’s direction, then headed over to sit with them.

  “What’s up?” Quentin asked when I sat down.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Hey, Nick, is something going on with Lindsey? She doesn’t look like herself.”

  Nick gave a thoughtful frown and shook his head, then looked over at the bar. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her today. But she hasn’t mentioned anything. I’m sure she’s fine. Probably just dealing with an obnoxious customer.”

  He had to be right. Being the owner of a bar and spending every night working behind it would fray anybody’s nerves. But it had to be particularly difficult for a woman in her early thirties. Not that everybody around town was stuck in the past. Most people loved Lindsey and thought she was doing a fantastic job. But there were still the occasional misogynistic jackasses who couldn’t stand the idea of a young woman in her position.

  They generally came in one of two versions. Either they were offended by her taking on the role and that offense turned to rage with a bit of alcohol, or they thought she needed a man by her side. There were a few occasions when I’d heard slimy men, usually visitors to the area, suggest she was just too cute and they could tell she was overwhelmed, but they would happily step up and be the man to guide her. After all, if she was going to be truly successful, she couldn’t expect to do it on her own.

  Needless to say, they were wrong every single time. Not a single one of them walked out of the bar having earned any affection from Lindsey. I made myself focus on spending time with my brothers and not thinking about the strange surge of feeling that came over me when I saw Lindsey’s downturned face.

  The feeling didn’t really go away for the rest of the night. It settled onto the back of my neck and just kind of stayed there through the beer, the cheeseburger, and the tumbling tower of curly fries. I couldn’t shake it, and far too often throughout the night, I found myself looking over at the bar, trying to check on her. I was driving myself home that night, which meant I stuck to one beer and perhaps far too many of the fries. They were still sitting heavy in my belly when I got home to my cabin sometime around midnight.

  I let myself in and didn’t bother to turn on the lights in the front hallway. The lamp glowing in the corner of the living room was enough to get me there without running into anything. I went into the room and flopped down onto my couch. A few seconds later, just like clockwork, Frankie jumped onto my back. It was the way of the enormous cat. When I got home, the amount of time I got to myself was exactly how long it took for him to get from wherever he was to me.

  That was fine with me. He was a good buddy and always put a smile on my face. I carefully rolled over so the giant ball of fluff could settle onto my stomach. Around the size of a small dog, the Maine Coon was massive but thought he was delicate and petite. Which was why he had absolutely no qualms sitting right on my belly and prodding me with his huge paws. I ran my hand over his soft fur, making his purr feel like an engine.

  “You want to hear something really strange that happened tonight?” I asked.

  The fact that I carried on long, in-depth conversations with my cat wasn’t something I’d readily share with many people. But in addition to being a good buddy and a fantastic masseuse, Frankie was a great listener. He never judged me. Well, sometimes he judged me. But at least when he did, it was just a matter of him jumping down and walking away with his bushy tail up in the air. That night, I just wanted to talk through the strange feeling from the bar and try to figure out what it might be.

  “I went to the bar, and I saw Lindsey there looking really pissed off.” I paused for effect, and Frankie looked at me. “I know. Lindsey looking angry. That’s not like her. And when I saw it, I got really upset. I was all of a sudden all knotted up and wanted to go over and stop whatever was happening. It was a really strange instinct. Like I felt protective of her.”

  It seemed I’d landed on what the feeling was, but that didn’t actually help me any. Why would I suddenly be feeling so protective over Lindsey? Especially when there wasn’t any imminent danger to her as far as I could see. It wasn’t like I saw some guy hitting on her or touching her. I didn’t hear her shouting or see someone threatening her. She just looked angry, and I felt the need to protect her.

  For the first time, I wondered about her life. She grew up around us in Charlotte, but there was a while there when she wasn’t in town. I never really thought about where she might have gone or what went on in her life during that time. Now, I was curious.

  The next couple days were an exercise in restraint. Now that I had put my finger on the feeling, I struggled. Not with the fact that I was feeling it, but with not doing anything about it. It took just about everything in me not to go back to that bar and try to fix it. I was a fixer by nature. Hell, I built my career around it. It’s what I wanted to do, but something held me back and said I couldn’t go swoop in and try to make it all better. It wasn’t my place.

  That realization made my weekend a special kind of hell.

  2

  Lindsey

  Something about that phone call had ruined my entire night at work Friday. I couldn’t get my mind away from it, and it loomed over my head threw me off for the entire shift. My customers could tell. Not that it was all that difficult to notice the change in me. These were people who came in a couple of times a week, some even more than that. I knew their favorite drink order like I knew the color of their eyes or their tell when they had a particularly shitty day at work or home.

  Kevin Barnes sighed like he had giant bellows in his belly, and he kept getting squeezed.

  Martin Conroy drummed his fingers against the bar, then pretended he wasn’t doing anything if he got called out for it.

  Melissa Aker wore eye makeup that corresponded with her mood and level of stress. The brighter the colors and longer the false lashes, the worse her mood and more desperate she was for attention.

  Then there were the ones from my daddy’s time. Rollovers from when he was alive and running the place, the often grizzled old men took up the corners of the bar. They lurked there, hovering over their beers, and grumbled to whoever would listen. Sometimes that was also their beer.

  I knew them and how to read their moods and what they needed. They just weren’t used to having to do the same for me. They came into the bar anticipating a bright smile and happy greeting. Even when they were dealing with aggravation from work, a fight with their partner, or any other of life’s little frustrations, I was there to try to perk them up. Last night they showed up to a distinct lack of perk. For the first time since I took over the bar, I could honestly say I didn’t want to be there.

  The thing was, I loved the bar. It was a part of me from the time I was a little girl when my grandpa owned it. Sometimes I would go to visit him there before opening. He’d pick me up and sit me on the bar, so my feet dangled down. A Shirley Temple with three cherries skewered on a pink swizzle stick made me feel grown-up and special. After he died and my father took over, it somehow meant even more.

  The bar was where I had my first job. It’s where I soaked in the gossip of the town. It was also what I knew was my future. As an only child, I was my father’s only option for passing on his legacy. Eventually, the bar would be mine. Knowing that’s what was going to happen and that I would most likely end up back in Charlotte, I wanted a break. I wanted to experience something else of the world before my path led me back here.

  That was how I ended up furious and on edge the night before, not wanting to deal with the customers or the job that I usually adored because of how fractured my brain felt. It was also why I was sitting on my bed staring at the phone I clutched in my hand, trying to will myself to dial. I had been sitting that way for more than two hours.
Ever since getting the voicemail that he left at five that morning.

  It was a seriously jerk move of Grant. But that was him. It always had been. He’d called me the night before, completely screwing my shift at work. Then, knowing I was at the bar until late because I had to close up and wouldn’t get back home until the wee hours of the morning, he called again well before I would wake for the day. In fact, when he called, I had only been asleep for two hours. That was on purpose. He just wanted more fodder.

  I had to call him back. We couldn’t keep putting off the conversation hovering at the other end. As much as I didn’t want to talk to him, we had to make decisions about Remy. I dreaded every second of it. Dealing with my ex and his family was never a fun experience. Now that they had Remy, it had only gotten worse.

  I didn’t know what I expected from the arrangement. When I finally accepted they were going to take my son, I tried to tell myself it was what was best for him. Even though my heart told me that wasn’t true. I had to unclench my fingers from around the phone and face talking with Grant. Remy deserved a mother in his life. It wasn’t his fault he was saddled with me.