The Billionaire's Claim_Redemption Read online

  A particularly large and powerful wave arches, barreling down toward the beach.

  My heart sticks in my throat as the wave breaks over Elizabeth.

  Chapter Three

  Dominic

  Terror pumps through me, my heart beating like it’s about to explode out of my chest. I sprint toward the rocky beach, adrenaline giving me an extra boost.

  The son of a bitch maneuvers his paddle and shifts his weight around, and somehow manages to keep the kayak from capsizing. But Elizabeth’s limp body tilts to the side and slides off into the violently swirling water.

  My feet slap against the sharp rocks lining the beach, but I barely register the pain. I hit the water, and the bastard swings his paddle around and bends this way and that to grab Elizabeth, but he can’t move fast enough. And when the next wave slams into him, the kayak capsizes with him in it.

  I don’t know how I’m going to make it in such a rough sea. It tosses me, spinning me around like a rag doll, but I press forward toward the unmoving Elizabeth, willing myself to believe she’s still okay. She’ll be okay as long as I can reach her. At least the ocean isn’t sweeping her away. Her dress must’ve got caught in something.

  Can’t lose her now.

  I propel myself forward, squeezing out every ounce of strength left in me. When my fingers finally grasp the hem of her dress, I almost cry with relief, then pull her closer, making sure her head stays above the water. She’s so cold. Blood flows freely from cuts in her temples and a gash an inch above her hairline. She has scratches all over her face, shoulders, arms and hands.

  Holding on to her as tightly as I can, I grip a jagged rock and look around for a way to get back. Although I made it out here due to some divine miracle, I don’t have the strength to reach the shore while carrying Elizabeth’s weight. Around us, the water tosses the capsized kayak, and I keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t hit us. There’s no sign of the other guy, and I can’t tell if the bastard managed to escape. I wouldn’t be too broken up about it if that fucker drowned or got lost at sea.

  “Elizabeth,” I say, even though I know she can’t hear me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  If I’d had more faith in you…if I hadn’t been such a jackass, you wouldn’t have suffered…you wouldn’t have come out here alone.

  I hang in there for a while, but my arms are starting to tire. Mother Nature doesn’t give a damn that I want to live, that I want to save Elizabeth with everything I have. I retighten my grip, my muscles burning and straining. I didn’t come this far just to let go at the last minute.

  I raise my face to the stormy sky. “I’m going to live through this. You hear? I’m going to make things right with Elizabeth even if I have to swim through a sea of molten lava! I’m not letting some weather rip it all away!”

  Gritting my teeth, I start to process the scene around me. The waves are still rough, but they’re slowly becoming smaller and less vicious. The water isn’t cold, so that’s a plus. No hypothermia—yet—although Elizabeth is too cold for my peace of mind.

  My phone presses against my thigh, but it’s probably dead after taking such an extended dunk in salt water. The only hope left is Antoine. Hopefully he’ll realize that I’ve been gone too long and come searching.

  As soon as I think it, I vaguely see a tall figure moving along the beach. I can’t make out who it is—my vision’s just okay without my contacts, but I don’t think it’s the asshole who tried to kidnap Elizabeth. This person’s gait is too brisk, too fresh.

  The other guy yells something. I think it’s my name. Or maybe I’m hallucinating. Who gives a shit either way as long as he can see me?

  “Help! Over here!”

  Holding on to Elizabeth and the rock, I yell, salt in my mouth and my throat raw, praying he hears me over the storm. The other guy waves, broad strokes of his arm in the driving rain.

  I give a shuddering prayer of thanks to whatever being watching over me and Elizabeth when lifeguards and paramedics arrive on the scene soon after. If they think we’re idiots for being in the water, they don’t show it. I make sure they take Elizabeth first.

  They take us efficiently into an ambulance and wrap me in a blanket. I’m like a mannequin, letting them do whatever they need, but I maintain watch on Elizabeth. She looks so small and frail on the gurney.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I ask.

  “We’re going to take care of her, don’t worry,” one of the paramedics says. “Let’s make sure you’re okay.”

  Suddenly it hits me: Elizabeth and I are safe. And with that realization, all the aches and pains start radiating through my muscles. My feet and ankles are so damn sore and stinging that I can’t help but wince.

  “We’ll need to get those cleaned and treated,” the same paramedic says, gesturing at the cuts and scrapes.

  “Her first.”

  “We can take care of both of you.”

  I shake my head, hugging myself and clenching my arms hard with shaking hands. The paramedics are just doing their job, but if they don’t make sure she’s okay now, I’m going to do something really stupid—like start yelling at them for wasting their time. I exhale long and hard. “Her first. I can wait.”

  Antoine finds me as the paramedics look Elizabeth over. “Damn. So that really was you. I thought I was imagining it when I saw you bobbing up and down. Good thing I had a GPS app on your phone.”

  I shoot him an incredulous look. “You put a spy app on my phone?”

  “Not a spy app. It’s for when you get kidnapped or disappear or something. It worked out well, because without it, I might’ve not realized you were here…well, out in the water around here. The tracker showed this was the last spot you were in before your phone went out.” He glances in Elizabeth’s direction. “So she got swept up or something?”

  I shake my head. “No. Some asshole dragged her out there.”

  “Jesus.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Did you at least get a good look so the cops can find him?”

  My gut goes tight, and a familiar mix of anger, fear and frustration judders through me. Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “No. I lost my contacts in the storm. He seemed a bit familiar…but that’s it.”

  “Somebody you know is after Elizabeth?” Antoine raises both eyebrows.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Hard to say. All I know for certain is that he isn’t local, and he was single-mindedly focused on her. Kinda like the creepy psycho who sent her the puppy package.”

  Antoine curses.

  “Probably the same guy.” I clench and unclench my hands, wishing the fucker were in front of me so I could turn him into a lifelong quadriplegic. “What are the odds that she has two determined creeps after her?”

  “If what you’re saying is true, this is no ordinary psycho. He came all the way here to get her.”

  “I know.”

  “I just hope he died in the sea, and we find the body.”

  I run a rough palm over my face. “You and me both, buddy.”

  Chapter Four

  Dominic

  Antoine buys me a pair of flip-flops before the ambulance takes off to the only major hospital on the island. They aren’t super comfortable, but they’re better than nothing.

  Once we reach the hospital, the nurses and doctors take Elizabeth away on a gurney, while another team of nurses and a doctor herd me into an examination room to look me over.

  “I’m fine,” I tell them again, wanting to be with Elizabeth.

  “Mr. King, you have multiple injuries, including contusions and cuts,” the doctor says. “We need to get them cleaned and looked at. Some of them may be serious enough to require stitches.”

  “I need to be with Elizabeth.” The authorities are looking into the kidnapper. They haven’t found a body or any signs of the guy. Until I know for sure, I can’t relax.

  “You can’t be with her until the doctor’s finished with the tests and scans.”

  “But—”


  Antoine squeezes my shoulder. “Dominic, let them do their job. Elizabeth isn’t going anywhere. If you want, I’ll sit outside her door and keep an eye on things.”

  I exhale. He’s right. I’m not helping. “All right. Thanks.”

  According to my doctor, I have a cut that requires three stitches on the top of my left foot between my big toe and second toe, but the rest of the injuries on my feet aren’t bad. There are bruises on my legs and ribs as well. Despite the alarming purple and black patches, they barely register, and I tell my doctor so.

  “They never hurt the day you get them.” He jots down a few things on a paper. “But they’ll hurt tomorrow. I’ll prescribe you some painkillers and a muscle relaxant.”

  “I don’t need a muscle relaxant.” They make you drowsy, and I need to stay alert. Even if it weren’t for the stalker, I can’t be foggy, not when I have so many important things to tell Elizabeth, not when I can’t screw up anymore.

  The doctor’s eyebrows pinch together, then he sighs. “Fill it anyway. You may change your mind.”

  The moment he’s done stitching and bandaging, I leave the room in search of Elizabeth. According to a helpful nurse at one of the big stations located on the floor, she’s still being examined, and I need to sit tight in the waiting area, which is really a cramped section with twelve uncomfortable-looking molded plastic benches.

  Antoine walks over, and I nod to him then turn back to the woman. “Can you make sure to put Elizabeth in a private room? You have one, right?”

  “Yes—”

  “And if you can keep me updated, I’d really appreciate it.”

  She taps a few keys, then peers at me. “Can I ask how you’re related to the patient?”

  I go blank for a moment at the sudden question. How the hell am I supposed to answer that? I’m the guy who broke her heart. I’m the guy who drove her to this island where she got hurt. I’m the guy who has to fix it.

  “He’s her fiancé,” Antoine says.

  Her eyes widen, but they can’t be wider than mine.

  Antoine gives her a winsome smile tinged with a bit of regret. “I know it’s hard to believe, him being such a controlling jerk and all, but he’s under a lot of stress.”

  She studies my face, and I school my features to extreme worry, which isn’t difficult at the moment.

  “Besides, would a guy jump into the ocean on a day like this unless he’s in love with her?” Antoine says, laying it on thick while flashing her his signature puppy eyes. “It was supposed to be their romantic getaway before the wedding. Who would’ve thought this would happen? He might become something like a widower before the ceremony.”

  I flinch at the word “widower” and glower at him.

  The nurse, however, looks at him like everything coming out of his mouth is pure gospel, then turns her sympathetic gaze toward me. “I’m sorry to hear it. Not the engagement, but the injury, I mean. That had to be rough.”

  “I know. It’s their anniversary, too.”

  Her eyes soften further, until it wouldn’t surprise me if warm honey dripped out of them. “If you’d just take a seat and wait, and I’ll update you as soon as I have more information.”

  “Thanks,” I say, my voice hoarse.

  She gives me a look full of understanding, then returns to her files.

  Antoine takes me to one of the benches in the back.

  “Fiancé, huh?” I say under my breath.

  He shrugs. “Why not? I don’t know what kind of privacy laws they have here, but it’s best to be as close to her as possible, relationship-wise. Right? She probably buys it, too, since a lot of couples come here on romantic getaways.”

  I almost laugh bitterly at the mention of romantic getaways. Elizabeth and I never had one. I wanted to—I dreamed of it, but I never had a chance to take her anywhere. She didn’t want to be seen out with me, and now I know why—she knew how her grandmother and mother would react.

  And Yu-Jin’s right about me not having been rich enough or having the right pedigree. Even if I’d been the same age as Elizabeth, her grandmother and mother would’ve found a way to ruin my life.

  I bury my face in my hands. This is the last thing I imagined when I got the call from Antoine. I thought Elizabeth and I would talk—me groveling, mostly—and we’d work something out. Now…

  Although Elizabeth always looks so radiant in public, I know she isn’t in the best health. She drinks a lot, doesn’t sleep well and must be under enormous stress from dealing with everyone who wants a piece of her. She doesn’t have any outlet for stress relief, either, having given up on art. Ten years ago, she used to joke around a lot, laugh easily, sing and hum under her breath…

  Since I met her again at the charity dinner, I haven’t heard her laugh in genuine humor, joke or sing. It’s as though something as vital as the sun is missing from her life.

  And it’s all my fault.

  God, if you bring her back to me, I will make it up to her. I swear I will.

  Suddenly, a bulging white plastic bag is thrust in my face.

  “Here. You should change,” Antoine says. “Grabbed something from the souvenir shop across the street.”

  I look down and realize I’m still in damp, briny clothes.

  “The nurse said you can use the empty examination room around the corner, first door on the right. Thought it’d be more comfortable than a bathroom.”

  “But—” My gaze slides toward the double doors behind which doctors and nurses are probing Elizabeth.

  Antoine gives me a steady look. “If you give yourself pneumonia wearing wet clothes, how are you going to be any use to her?”

  Touché. “Okay.” I accept the bag and start to rise, although I’m as reluctant as hell.

  “Of course I’m right. And I’m parking my ass right here and coming to get you if her doctor comes out while you’re changing.”

  I nod, then go to the empty room and change fast. Antoine’s selection includes a T-shirt that’s a size too small, stretching a trio of palm trees across my chest until it looks deformed, and a pair of black cargo pants with a waist that’s a bit too wide. I tighten the built-in belt to compensate, then shove my damp clothes into the bag and return to the waiting area. Antoine’s on a bench, checking his phone.

  “It’s taking too damn long,” I mutter, settling next to him.

  “They’re probably just being thorough. Better that than sloppy.”

  Maybe, but it’s no comfort. The last time I was at a hospital was to watch my granddad die.

  Bitter regret like I’ve never known flows through me. All the things I’ve told myself I’d want to provide for Elizabeth—the beautiful experiences, amazing travel, the world of everything she deserves—I didn’t give her any of it. Instead, I’m the source of her misery. I took away her dream, her free will.

  Rescuing her from that psycho is the least I can do.

  Chapter Five

  Dominic

  The scent of hospital is the same no matter where I go—impersonal and pungent with antiseptic. The last time I was in one was in Los Angeles. Back then, I felt nothing but puzzlement and resignation, tinged with a bit of sadness. I didn’t understand why a man who never cared for me when he was alive would leave me his construction firm. I didn’t understand why he’d waited so long, or why he felt the need to bribe me to come see him one last time.

  A heartfelt “I’m sorry” would’ve been better.

  This time, I’m full of desperation and regret. Regret that I may be too late. Regret that she’s hurt. And I’m desperately praying that she’s okay. Anything else is unthinkable.

  Three and a half hours go by, and still no update. I bargain with—and threaten—any being up there who’s listening. I’ll do anything you want me to so long as Elizabeth’s fine. She has to be fine. Anything else is…

  “Dominic, you need to calm down. If you work yourself up, you won’t be any good when she wakes up,” Antoine says, walking up with a couple of cof
fees.

  I sigh heavily. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Bullshit,” Antoine says, sitting next to me and offering me a coffee.

  I ignore it. My stomach can’t take it right now. “I should’ve listened to Kristen.”

  “Why?”

  “She said I was misjudging Elizabeth. She said there had to be more. She said—”

  “That has nothing to do with what happened to Elizabeth here.”

  “But if she hadn’t given me the portrait, maybe she would’ve stayed in L.A. Then this whole thing”—I wave around— “wouldn’t have happened.”

  I know with absolute certainty she left the States because of me, just like she gave up the portrait she fought so hard for because of me.

  “That’s such crap. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that so I don’t lose respect for you,” Antoine says.

  “Like I care. You can’t respect me less than I do myself at the moment.”

  He slowly leans backward until the back of his head hits the wall. Then his eyes tilt up to the ceiling. He sighs.

  “Mr. Dominic King?” a female calls out in a brisk, businesslike voice.

  I swivel my head, then spot a middle-aged nurse looking around the waiting crowd. She isn’t the same one Antoine lied to.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I say.

  “The doctor’s ready to speak to you about your fiancée.”

  I stand, my motions slow and careful. The corners of the nurse’s mouth are turned downward, and her dark eyes don’t look thrilled. Shit. My legs feel so weak and unsteady that I’m afraid I might lose my balance and fall on my ass.

  Antoine slaps my back a couple of times in a show of support. I drag my feet, following the nurse. She hasn’t smiled once. This can’t be good, I think over the panicked buzzing in my head. The nurses attending Granddad didn’t smile either.

  The room they put Elizabeth in is private, like I requested, but otherwise pretty generic, with white walls, a bed and a couple of plastic chairs. The air smells strongly of baby powder from a spray can, but it can’t hide the scent of antiseptic, illness and desperate hopes that clings to every inch of the building. A smooth-skinned doctor with a stethoscope around his neck looks at me, his brown eyes somber.