The Billionaire's Secret Boxed Set (10 page)

Walking into the bar, Belle’s heart sank to see Frank
Lautner having lunch at a booth toward the back. 
God, does he ever just stay at home?
she thought uncharitably.  Belle waved to one of the other waitresses and went in back to get an apron.  The first half-hour or so passed uneventfully, and Belle busied herself as best she could.  She filling ketchup and mustard containers when she heard the door swing open, and looked up to see Greg walk in.

“Belle,” he began gravely, and she looked away, her eyes filling with tears.  “Please accept my apologies for last night.”

“It’s fine,” she said brusquely, refusing to look at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Please,” he said gently.  “No, it’s not.  I didn’t mean to… I mean, I meant to… Well, it’s complicated.  But I lost control of myself.  And I would very much like to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she responded, trying as hard as she could to keep her tone light.

“Yes, there is.  It’s complicated.  I’d like to see you again, to have a chance to make you understand what I’m talking about.”

“She says she doesn’t want to see you again,” said a deep, threatening voice.  Belle looked up to see Frank Lautner.  He was facing Greg now, his posture menacing, as if challenging Greg to a fight.

“Excuse me, sir.” Greg spoke smoothly, but there was an undercurrent to his tone that frightened Belle. “We are simply having a conversation.  I am not harassing Ms. O’Hara in any way. If she would like me to leave her alone, all she has to do is ask. But she will have to ask me herself.”

“Belle, do you want me to throw this asshole out of here?” Frank asked, looking at Greg with hatred in his eyes.

“No, Frank.  It’s okay,” Belle said quietly. She knew, instinctively, that she had to defuse the situation. 
Knew, somehow, that Greg would kill Frank, if it came to that.

Frank looked almost disappointed.  “Okay,” he muttered, glancing at her.  “But I’ll be over there.  If he gives you any trouble – any trouble at all – you call me,
y’hear?”

“Okay.  Thank you, Frank – for protecting me,” she replied gently.  He returned her gaze for a long moment, then, reddening, turned and sat back down at his table.

Greg watched him leave, his expression feral.  Then, turning back to her, he continued.  “Belle.  Please. Give me a chance to explain to you what happened last night.  It’s a long story, a strange one, but I think it’s one that you will want to hear.”

In spite of herself, Belle had to admit that she
wanted
him to explain.  She wanted terribly to believe that what had happened last night hadn’t been a mistake – that it hadn’t been merely a rich city man taking advantage of a simple country girl.  But her instincts of self-preservation would not allow her to put herself in another position where she wasn’t in control.  “If you want,” she began indifferently, “you can come to talk to me at my house after I get off work.  But you’re staying outside on the porch,” she warned,  “And if I tell you to leave, you leave.  Immediately. No excuses, no exceptions.”

“Of course,” Greg agreed instantly.  “I promise you.  When should I stop by?”

“I’ll be home by nine.”

“I’ll see you then, Belle.”  He looked deeply into her eyes, making her skin heat.   “Thank you for agreeing to hear me.”  Gravely, he turned and walked out of the bar.

Only when he had gone through the door did Belle realize she had been holding her breath.  Exhaling profoundly, she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and turned back to her work.

Frank got up from his booth and strode toward her, his chin jutting in anger. “Belly – Belle, sorry – Are you okay? I told you that guy…”

“Frank, I’m fine.  Please.  I don’t want to talk about it,” Belle replied firmly.

Frank looked as though he wanted to say more, but thankfully, didn’t.  “Okay,” he said, frowning.  “Sorry.” Turning slowly, he began to walk back to his booth. 

Belle watched him go.  “Frank?” she called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.  I appreciate it. 
Really.”

He grinned. “No problem, Belly. You just let me know if you need me to kick his ass.”

“Good to know,” she laughed.  In somewhat better spirits, she went to a table of customers who had just sat down and asked for their drink orders.

Hours later, Belle sat on her front porch, staring out into the darkness.  She was nervous, but told herself that she would send Greg away at once if she suspected he was lying to her.  She glanced at the clock on her phone: 9:07.  Belle looked down the road, but saw no cars approaching. 

“Hello, Belle,” a voice said quietly. Startled, Belle turned her head to see Gregory Thorne standing on her front walk.

“Oh, my God, you scared me!” Belle breathed, her eyes wide.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, looking contrite. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“Where’s your car?” she asked, looking around.

“I didn’t come by car,” he replied. “May I come up?”

“Yes,” she said simply, indicating the other wicker chair.

He moved silently, and sat down next to her.

“Belle,” he began, looking into her eyes, “I have some things to tell you.  Things that are a little complicated, and hard to understand.  I promise I will not lie to you, and that you may ask me as many questions as you like.  But please, hear me out.  Will you promise to do that?” Greg looked as though he longed to reach out and touch her cheek, but he didn’t move.

“Yes.  I agree,” Belle replied formally.  Though her body longed to feel the heat of him, she fought the urge.  She knew that it would take every ounce of her strength to push him away if necessary, but she refused to let him hurt her again.

Greg’s gaze held hers a moment longer, and then his broke away.  He sighed, and looked off toward the night sky.  “Belle, I came here to Dyersville to connect with a past I barely knew.  I told you my grandmother was an important figure in my life, but that I had only met her a few times.  The rest of our relationship played out through letters and books.  She didn’t like telephones -- said the only things they were good for were to call a repairman or request a delivery.”  He chuckled quietly to himself.  “She preferred the intimacy of the written word… both for keeping secrets and for telling the truth.

“My mother was always very secretive about her childhood when I was young, which is probably part of the reason why she brought me here a small number of times.  Back then, I didn’t know what it was that she didn’t want to talk about.  At first, I thought maybe her mother had been mean to her, and so I was a bit afraid to meet Nana Mabel at first.  I had this image of a bitter, harsh old woman who would yell at me.  But when my parents finally brought me here for a visit, what I found, instead, was an instant connection.  There was something between us that almost vibrated – an instinctive understanding, almost
a telepathy.  I spent hours with her on that first visit, never wanting to leave her side.  My parents could see right away how drawn to her I was, and I could tell that they – especially my father – were not pleased.  If memory serves, they cut our visit short by a day or two, I imagine from a desire to get me away from her.”

“But why?”
Belle interrupted, perplexed.  “Why, if she wasn’t abusive or cruel?”

“I’m getting to that,” Greg smiled ruefully.  “Believe me, you’ll know everything soon.

“That first visit, I was four or five years old, and just learning to read.  So, I didn’t hear from my grandmother again for a year or two – the time it took for my reading and writing skills to develop enough to send and receive letters.  The first ones were simple, asking me how her favorite grandson was (of course, I was her
only
grandson!) and telling me little bits of news about the house and the grounds. She would always close the letters with ‘Your room misses you, and so do I!’  She maintained a bedroom especially for me, and told me that it would always be mine and mine alone.

“As the years went on, the letters became longer, of course, and she began sending me books – mostly books about history, and also fantasy stories about the histories of supernatural beings.  At least, I thought they were fantasy at the time.  It was around this time that my grandmother wrote to my mother, asking if I could come for another visit.  My mother agreed reluctantly, and that summer, I came to stay with my grandmother for a week. 

“The connection between us had not died; if anything, it was stronger.  It was during this visit that my grandmother told me something that I found very hard to understand or believe: the books she had sent me about supernatural beings – shapeshifters, werewolves – were not fantasies.  They were meant to prepare me for something very important.  Something that Nana needed to tell me about myself.”

Greg stopped, seemingly unable or uncertain how to go on.  Belle had been listening to him with a mixture of fascination and confusion.  She sensed his body tensing as he talked, as though he were about to reveal something very difficult. It was getting harder to resist the urge to reach out, to touch his cheek – to do anything to ease his tension, comfort him. At the same time, she couldn’t imagine what the secret could possibly be, or what it could have to do with these fantasy stories given to him by his grandmother.

“Go on, Greg.  Please,” she said gently.

He looked at her then, his eyes flashing strangely.  “This is where things get a bit difficult, Belle.  Please stay with me.

“What my grandmother revealed to me during that visit was that I – like my grandmother and my mother herself – am a shapeshifter.  I possess a dual nature: half man, half wolf.  Everything I had read in the books – the histories, their societies, their ways of life – was true.  It was all my past – a past that has now all but disappeared as lines have died out or been diluted.  I am one of an endangered breed.”

“What?!”
Belle whispered, her face a mask of horror. She was not sure whether to believe him or think him insane.

“It’s true,” he continued simply. “My mother married a human, and so there was no guarantee which way I would turn.  The shifter line could have ended with my mother, whose wolf nature had never been particularly strong in the first place.  But the moment my grandmother met me, she knew. The connection between us was the proof.

“That week, my grandmother explained everything she could to me about my dual nature.  She explained that the change would come on during puberty, and that my parents would likely not be much help.  She gave me one more book that she had been saving for me.  That book explained the first year in a newly turned shifter’s life, and it would help me through the hardest time.  Finally, she gave me her version of ‘the talk’.”

“The talk?”
Belle, incredulous at all she had heard, could merely repeat the words dumbly.

“Yes,” he smiled wryly.  “You
know, the birds and the bees? Only in this case, it was the weres and the humans.” He glanced at her sideways, then looked away again.  “Nana told me that since wolf shifters were dying out, most weres ended up either not mating or mating with humans.  She said this with great sadness. Her first mate had been a shifter, like herself, but he had been killed when they were still very young.  Her second mate was her husband – my mother’s father – and he was human.  My grandmother told me that the connection with her first mate had been deeper and more profound than anything she had ever known.  Their connection had been immediate, and very intense, and she said she missed that bond every day of her life.” 

Greg turned to her now, his gaze boring through her.  Belle felt her breath catch in spite of her as the familiar current ran between them. He murmured urgently, “My grandmother told me that if I had any chance of finding a mate who would connect with my human and animal nature, it would be here, where my ancestors lived -- where one of the last great packs lived and thrived.  Nana said that there were still people here who were descendants of shifters, whose dual nature still lived within them. She told me that if I was very lucky, I would feel the call of my mate, from far away, and would be drawn to her. 
That my body would sense her.” Greg looked at her intently.  “Do you understand, Belle?”

Her eyes locked on his, Belle’s mind was reeling.  It was insane, what he was saying.  It couldn’t possibly be true.  And yet… somehow, Belle knew.  As he was talking, her mind had gone back to their first meeting – to the electric jolt that ran through her when his eyes met hers.  Their bodies thrummed together, as if calling to one another.  Even now, she could feel it.  Still, her mind refused to believe what her body already understood. 

“Greg,” she stammered.  “I can’t… I mean… What you’re telling me is pretty unbelievable.”

“But you feel it, don’t you?” he asked gently, taking her hand in his.  There it was: the jolt. 
As though two pieces of a puzzle had been locked together.  “Yes,” she whispered.

“Would you like me to show you?” he asked, knowing that she understood. She nodded mutely.

Greg got up and walked down the porch steps to the front yard.  Unceremoniously, he pulled his shirt off over his head, kicked off his shoes, and undid his jeans, which fell to the ground.  The majesty of his naked form stood in front of her, and she heard her own sharp intake of breath as her body reacted with instant longing. Greg glanced up at her, the corners of his mouth turning up in recognition of her need.  His cock sprang to attention. “Now, now, Belle.  Focus,” he murmured teasingly. She blushed and smiled back at him.