Ruthless Heir (Ruthless Billionaires #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Harper

I’m not drunk anymore. But I wish I were.

Being drunk transported my mind away from this absolute disaster.

It’s nearly 4 a.m. and here I am sitting in a cell in the county jail.

Kudos to those who said I’d end up locked up one day for that temper of mine. Congratulations, you were right.

Sitting on a metal slab that’s supposed to be a seat for several hours within the restraints of my jail cell has taught me a life lesson I’ll never forget.

Apart from being numb from the waist down, the only thing I’ve been able to do is stare at the damning concrete wall before me.

The wall is no bigger than that of the walk-in closet I had when I was a little girl. But to me it feels just as foreboding as the Great Wall of China.

The only difference is my cell wall isn’t centuries-old famous, and it has remnants of scratch marks and lewd graffiti scattered across it. Like silent testimonies left behind by desperate inmates confined within this small, sparse space.

“What’s your name, sweet thing?” comes the rusty voice of the guy in the cell to my right.

The man stinks of alcohol and is covered in so much filth I can’t even tell how old he is. With his matted hair, bloodshot eyes, and missing teeth, he nails the homicidal maniac look big time.

I probably don’t look, or smell, much different.

My honey-blonde hair is now dirty blonde. My tank top and jeans are stained with beer and greasy bar food. I look and feel like hell from drinking too much. And honestly, that rank smell could be coming off me.

“I promise I can make all your dreams come true, hot stuff .” He makes a smacking sound with his mouth as if he’s calling a dog.

The crazy to my left has the same demented vibe as missing-teeth guy, but he doesn’t say anything. All he does is watch me.

Watch me the way a stalker would when they’ve found a fresh victim, a college-aged girl like me.

Cursing my life for the millionth time, I ignore both of them the way I have for the last four mind-sucking hours.

Is this kick-my-ass karma?

This…

Me, being thrown in the county jail when I was trying to get my things back from my thieving landlord.

Okay. I’ll be reasonable. I’ll admit the jail part of my conundrum is my fault.

Yes, I was drunk, and no, there was no way I was going to get away with setting fire to my landlord’s car. But even though I was plastered off my face, it was his fault.

That asshole kicked me out of my apartment without notice.

After a twelve-hour shift at the bar, and the stupid drinking contest I got suckered into, I went home only to find my things had been tossed outside.

I’d already let my landlord know I’d catch up with rent at the end of the month. But still the few belongings I’d brought with me from UCLA, including my violin, were in a heap on the curb like a pile of useless crap.

That was mean-spirited and terrible enough, but when I discovered he’d kept my laptop and my mother’s wedding ring I saw blazing red.

My mom’s ring may only be worth five grand but it’s as priceless to me as a Ming vase.

I never sold it when I hit rock bottom and ate ramen for a couple of months.

I never sold it when I was in danger from the loan shark I’d never be able to repay.

I never sold it when I needed money to leave UCLA and get far, far away.

That ring is the only thing I have left from my mother and the last connection to my father. That’s why I lost my mind and torched my lousy landlord’s car after he refused to return my things.

And… that’s how I ended up here behind bars with a five-thousand-dollar bail bond hanging over my head.

Before I can leave, the bail money would need to be paid, along with the rent arrears and damages to my landlord’s car. Knowing that asshole he’ll also most likely press charges.

My heart tightens and twists when I think of how much trouble I’m in. I’ve always been strong but this is way too much and I’m all tapped out.

I can’t help feeling like this is some kind of punishment from the universe for screwing up my second chance at life.

A second chance that was given to me four years ago after a car accident that robbed me of six years’ worth of memories. Until this day ninety percent of those memories are still locked away in my mind.

Eight months after the accident my father died and my stepmother took all his money. She left my brother, Josh, and me with nothing. We went from riches to rags with my father’s last breath.

I was still in physio and at high school when Dad died, but I was given yet another chance in a hopeless situation when Josh stepped up to take care of me.

He got leave from the Navy and practically nursed me back to health. Then he made sure I was still able to go to college to pursue my dreams of studying music and playing the violin.

Things were good until I started my sophomore year and I made one mistake I can’t take back.

I fell for a sweet-talking, manipulative, dangerous man.

A dangerous man who left me with a $100,000 debt to a loan shark while he serves a life sentence in prison for murder.

All the red flags were there with Nick but I chose not to see them.

So, this could be karma kicking my ass.

Now I sit here in jail waiting for the only person I never wanted to disappoint— Josh.

I could have called Beth, but the bail fee stopped me. She’s the only one who would have understood and shoved tonight’s disaster under the rug that covers all my other secrets.

I hated calling Josh and owning up to my lies, because he thought I was in Europe for my summer internship.

Josh went big-brother crazy when I told him where I was and what I did. He was so angry I thought he might reach through the phone and shake me until I shattered. And when he picks me up, he still might.

He must hate me so much right now.

No. Think positively.

It’s Josh. He would do anything for me. And he has.

It’s a shame he had to find out that I’m here in Nowheresville, Massachusetts. He didn’t know I’d left UCLA over three months ago, and he still doesn’t know about my huge, huge debt. And I’ll never tell him.

My plan is to attend NYU for my last year of college. I came to this little town to get a job and make payments on that bleed-me-dry loan. But nothing has worked out the way I planned.

I never got paid for the first job I had here. Later I found out they were being investigated for scamming new workers.

My job at the bar just started but I’m sure I’ve lost that, too, because my asshole landlord’s brother is my boss.

The door at the end of the cell block opens. I stand and pray that Josh is here and the guard is coming to get me out.

The big, burly guard walks in but my hopes flatline and my soul hits the floor when I see the tall, handsome man following behind him.

In absolute, utter disbelief, I stare at Asher Le Blanche. My brother’s best friend. Aka the worst person I could ever see right now.

Dressed in a charcoal-gray Kiton suit that emphasizes his solid muscles, Asher walks with the intimidation of a black panther, radiating the kind of power that makes my lungs lock.

Despite the ungodly, middle-of-the-night hour, he maintains his Apollo looks and elegance even here in this grimy little county jail. An unfitting setting for the next heir to the Le Blanche Empire.

His thick dark brown hair is slicked back as if it was styled for a Tom Ford advert.

His sculpted jawline and cheekbones are enhanced by a five-o’clock shadow and his glacier-blue eyes are chef-knife sharp. Sharp and clear as a sheet of ice. And just as cold.

Asher Le Blanche is the kind of man who commands attention when he enters a room. Although he’s a world class jerk-off who could chew you up and swallow you whole on a daily basis, the magazines call him one of the most desirable bachelors in America.

To me he was the guy I was obsessed with since I was ten.

Unfortunately, I was cursed to remember that. Along with how I snuck into his room on the night of my eighteenth birthday and waited for him, naked under his sheets. I wanted him to be my first.

I don’t know what stroke of madness came over me to offer myself to him like a sacrificial virgin. But I did.

I’m brave that way. Here’s my problem: I. Don’t. Think.

On that night I was Persephone, Goddess of Spring, and I wanted him to be my Hades.

His rejection still echoes off the fragile walls of my heart.

The foolish mistake of throwing myself at my brother’s best friend is what sent me fleeing into the accident.

My only reprieve is that he doesn’t know I remember. I kept that secret to myself.

It’s been three long years since I last saw him. No way could I imagine that our reunion would be this nightmare.

I’m mortified that Asher knows the crazy thing I’ve done, that I’m in jail, and I have no job, nowhere to live, and he has to rescue me.

But the worst thing? Seeing him still sends ripples of desire racing through my body.

“You’re free to go.” The guard unlocks my cell. “You’re lucky your friend here came when he did. Another five minutes and you would have spent the whole day with us.”

I say nothing. It’s best I don’t.

I look up at Asher and his eyes lock on mine. His expression shifts from disgust to disapproval to disappointment.

My pride shrivels to nothing under the rocks clogging my throat.

Why does fate continue to be so cruel to me?

With my dignity in scraps I step out of the cell and Asher moves closer.

He’s six foot six but under the weight of his scrutiny he seems as colossal as a Titan rising from the depths of the ocean. Or the Underworld.

At five foot four I always feel like a gnat next to him. And he always treats me like one.

“Josh couldn’t make it.” That’s all he says in a rich deep baritone laced with power and dominance. He always sounds like that when he’s angry.

“Thank you for coming to get me.” My voice sounds mechanical and forced, because it is. I don’t want to speak to him but I know I have to. He’s here and he would have paid for everything. “It must have taken hours to drive from the Hamptons.”

“Three hours. Thanks for that.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I?—”

“Let’s just go.”

The guard waves us forward, and we follow.

I walk past missing-teeth guy, who blows kisses at me, and stalker guy, who continues his creepy stare.

I’m considering whether I might have it easier if I stayed in jail with them.

Being with the crazies would be less humiliating than going anywhere with Asher.

We’re led to the front desk where Jethro, my asshole landlord, is waiting for us. I’m not surprised he’s here.

The sight of him leaning against the wall with his mottled bald head and pot belly hanging out makes my stomach churn and burn. But I notice there’s something different about his worn-down expression. It looks like fear.

Fear that doubles when his gaze flicks to Asher.

The guard heads behind the counter and Asher walks ahead of me toward Jethro.

“Did you box up Harper’s things?” Asher uses his boardroom-stern voice.

“Over there.” Jethro points to a large brown box on the floor by the visitors’ chairs.

I look up at Asher. “You got him to pack my things?”

“Of course.”

My heart softens and for a fleeting moment an unexpected comfort sparks in my soul. I haven’t felt safe in such a long time it feels foreign to me.

“The laptop had better be there.” Asher squares his shoulders and looks Jethro up and down.

“It’s there.”

“And the ring?”

Jethro hands Asher Mom’s ring. I’m shocked he didn’t already pawn it.

Asher turns to me. “Think you can hold on to it this time?”

I want to slap him hard but I take the ring when he holds it out, grateful to have it back.

“They should’ve kept you locked up for what you did to my car.” Jethro half-lunges at me. With his wide nostrils flaring he looks like a warthog.

“You should’ve been locked up too, you miserable thief,” I snap back.

“I’m the thief? You little bit?—”

Asher grips Jethro’s shoulder and gets up in his face. “Don’t finish that sentence. I already cut you a nice check. Now back the hell off and don’t mess with me. You won’t like it if you do.”

Jethro shudders and his boss-man attitude dissolves into nothing.

Asher looks at me and cocks his head toward the door. “I’ll take you to Josh’s place.”

“Okay.”

The three-hour drive with him to New York will be excruciating but I don’t have a choice, so I nod. He picks up the big box as if it weighs nothing, and we leave.

We step out into the cold, dark parking lot. I’m freezing in my tank top and jeans but I act like I’m fine.

Asher’s ritzy red Maybach stands out like a Rolls Royce in a sea of crappy cars. It looks as out of place as he does with me.

He puts my box into the trunk then opens the door on the passenger side.

I get in and the first thing I notice is that the car smells exactly like him. Like expensive cologne, European leather, and power.

While I wait for him to get in I do a mental check of all the things I owe him.

Payment for bail.

Payment for my rent.

Payment for the damage I stupidly did to Jethro’s car.

When Asher slides into the driver’s seat the tension between us feels like it might combust.

We pull out of the parking lot onto the road and he cuts me a hard glance.

“Did you seriously have to torch your landlord’s car?” His voice rumbles like thunder around us.

“He took Mom’s ring. He deserved worse.”

“I’m aware. But you’re insane. Arson is a felony.” His voice rises and his face reddens, making me feel chastised. “You can’t go around setting fire to people’s cars. You’re lucky that ingrate took my money to repair the car and drop the charges.”

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Asher whips me another scathing stare. “With what money?”

“I’ll find a way. Rob a bank? Sell my eggs?” I hear my words and wish I could mop them up like beer spilled on the bar, but I act confident and volley a steely stare back at him.

“No egg selling. The world doesn’t need any more brainless Harper St. Johns trying to right wrongs.” His jaw clenches, making him look even meaner. “What the hell are you doing in this town anyway?”

A tremor of dread shoots through me. I have to lie to keep my secret from him. “I had to get away from L.A.”

“Why didn’t you go to New York? Aren’t you transferring to NYU?”

I roll my eyes at him. “I almost forgot Josh tells you everything.”

“Of course he does. We’ve been friends for over twenty years. So, why the small town?”

“I’m still on the waiting list for housing.”

“You could have lived with Josh.”

“I needed to be on my own.”

“Josh is worried sick about you.” Asher speeds faster along the dark shadowy road. “Everyone believes you’re in Europe. Why would you lie like that?”

Because I had to. “I didn’t want to bother Josh.” That’s the truth, too. A half-truth. “He’s done enough for me. I wanted him to spend time with Lisa. She’s only seen him once this year. He loves being in the Navy but since he made lieutenant his assignments have gotten longer.”

I thought my answer was a reasonable one but Asher’s expression becomes stonier.

“When you called Josh from jail he was in Florida to propose to Lisa. He tried to be here for you but he couldn’t get a flight.”

Icy fingers of guilt slide down my throat. “Oh my God. I feel so bad.”

“Good. You should feel bad. Your brother was willing to trash his plans, postpone proposing, all because of your immature ass.”

My ribs squeeze as if ropes are wrapped around them, and everything inside me feels tight and hot at the same time.

“You don’t have to make me feel worse.” I try to keep the quiver out of my voice but fail.

“I was the one who drove three hours to this grubby little town to bail you out of jail. So, yes, you should feel bad.”

My blood heats, fueled by exhaustion, frustration and shame. “I’m sorry the town was unfitting for a billionaire like you with a silver spoon shoved up his ass.”

I know I’m pissing him off but I don’t care. I’m done being nice. He can take his kick-a-girl-while-she’s-already-down attitude right back to hell.

The despicable look he gives me should make him appear monstrous in the moonlight. But damn it, he still looks like Apollo.

“Don’t test me, Harper.” He uses the same stern tone he took with Jethro. “You know you’re wrong. After all you’ve been through in L.A. with your ex, you shouldn’t have been so stupid.”

I hate that he’s right. And that he knows about Nick.

Since Josh tells Asher everything I assume he knows Nick was a thief, a con artist and a murderer.

“You need to be more careful. In the last three years you’ve made bad choice after bad choice.”

The additional blow makes me think he’s also talking about the past.

The past with him when I was eighteen, and all the reasons he didn’t want me.

“Yeah, sure.” I keep my answer short and emotionless, an attempt to show I’m over him and over this conversation, too.

“Any other bad choices I should know about?”

“No. None.” I look away, hoping he doesn’t ask me anything more.

I stare out the window, wondering what the hell I’m going to do.

I may not be in jail anymore but I’m still trapped.