Filthy Secret

VINDICTIVE HEIR

I said no to Addler de Marco once, and he’s never let me forget it…

Elena

Addler de Marco. There’s always been whispers about his family and the dark deals that made their fortune. I survived the rich boy nearly ruining my life but now, thanks to a careless mistake, I’m under his thumb. He’s offering a no-saying-no deal that might save the future of the only father figure I’ve ever known.

Addler

Elena Santos. She’s lived in my memory for years. Meeting her again would have been perfect, except for the guilt that flashes across her features for the briefest second. Is she part of the underhanded activities my new company’s been involved in?

A twist of fate leaves her in trouble, willing to do anything to make things right. It’s the perfect opportunity for some payback.

Elena

The first time I saw Addler de Marco walk into a room, I’d swear I heard panties dropping all around me. We were in high school then, but nothing much has changed.

“He’s never been here,” Sage, a fellow contractor working for the oil and gas company, says flippantly. “We deal with Ezequiel, the ranch manager. He’s a piece of work,” she tacks on with a twist of her lips.

Despite her constant dieting, she complains about how tight her security uniform fits. I think she really doesn’t care much for food, which boggles the mind. If there was anywhere to get a hot meal within the hour and twenty minutes’ drive from town to the ranch, I’d go there now. Instead, I take another bite of my ham sandwich on plain white bread and scroll through my phone, hoping Sage will drop the subject.

“I’ve never met him,” she continues, stirring her soup absentmindedly. “But the waitresses at Tacoriendo ran to the glass door to check him out.”

Like I said, nothing’s changed. Back then, every girl in class was drooling over the burly senior-except me.

“But I saw him from a distance once.” She shrugs.

Personally, I don’t mind not seeing Addler. Not in the least.

“He’s tall,” she recounts dreamily.

Six foot six. Still taller than me when he was sitting on the stool in chemistry lab and I was standing beside him. Me, the plain, fat nerd who’d done well without a lab partner, until he showed up, well after the school year started. The rumor was that he was kicked out of the private school he attended. Something to do with the dean’s wife.

“Dark hair…”

Jet black. The thick locks looking windblown without him doing a damn thing.

Her cell beeps, signaling a message. “Green eyes, from what I hear,” she says, reaching for the phone.

“Amber,” I correct. With green flecks. The opposite of the norm.

“Oh.” She straightens in her seat, snapping out of her dreamy state. “Do you know him?”

Oh damn. Too late, I realize my mistake, but there’s no way to take back the words. “I’m a local,” I remind her, hoping that’ll end the conversation. I don’t need Sage drilling me for more information.

Like just about everyone else working for the company, she moved here following the oil boom in South Texas. Which means she knows about the ranch owners, but the de Marcos seldom venture into town. In fact, from what I hear, Addler prefers to spend his time in Houston now that they’ve opened the ranch to drilling.

The private plane landing at the airstrip in Delta section, the ten thousand acres set aside for the family, was what started the conversation. As the coordinator for the security guards at the various gates around the ranch, Sage is notified of every move the owners make.

“I wouldn’t exactly say I know him.” I take a huge bite of my sandwich and chew slowly.

“What exactly would you say then?” she prods, refusing to take the hint.

Damn. Why did I decide to come into the break room? The wooden paneling on the portable office building is the same, so it makes little difference where I sit.

Despite the message on her phone, she waits as I try to squeeze out every last second before I have to swallow.

The two-way radio beeps. “Front gate to Sage.”

She blows out an annoyed breath and reaches for the clip at her waist. “Sage,” she replies. Her phone beeps again, drawing her attention. Her eyes go wide as she pulls the screen closer. “Holy shit.”

“See my message? Thought I had a speeder coming in,” the guard says from the radio.

She pushes out of her seat, stopping me mid-chew. “He’s here.”

Mouth full, I scrunch my eyebrows and tip my chin up. “Who?” I manage from behind my hand.

“But it’s the ranch owner,” the guard continues. “He’s heading up the front steps.”

“The ranch owner,” she repeats with all the enthusiasm of a groupie.

I force the food down my throat, but the mouthful seems to expand, nearly choking me on the way down. “What?”

“Got it. Thanks.” She scrambles around the table and heads into the hall.

I shove what’s left of the mangled bread and ham into the plastic grocery bag I used for lunch and follow suit. The boss would want to know the owner’s here.

I peek into the conference room where Bill had been taking a call earlier, but it’s empty. Hustling across the worn linoleum, I open the door to his office, only to find it empty. His desk is a disaster, with crumpled receipts littering the top and a couple on the floor.

Did he head out to the field? I go to the recent calls on my cell and press the button by his name. The line rings as the knowledge of the impending visit builds up inside me. Addler. Tall. Dark hair. Amber eyes burning so hot, they look gold. Damn it, Bill. Where the heck would he go and not tell me?

He answers on the second ring. “Elena,” he says sharply. The rumble of the big tires on the work truck fills the void around him. He’s on the highway.

“You left?” I ask, my stomach twisting into a knot.

“It’s Isabela,” he explains in a tight voice.

“Oh hell.” His wife of thirty years is in urgent need of a new kidney. If he’s rushing to town, this can’t be good. The sandwich could be a concrete slab in my stomach now. “Addler’s here.”

“Shit.” The exasperation in his voice makes me wince. “He wasn’t supposed to be in until next week.”

“What?”

“I got a call from corporate before I left. Addler de Marco’s the new owner.”NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

“Oh.” The room swims around me. The entire reason I’m here is to help Bill straighten out the books. Everyone’s been aware Kelly Oil & Gas was ready to sell, but I’m not sure anyone realized it would happen so quickly.

“Corporate’s supposed to be down on Monday to tell everyone.”

I nod, as if he could see me. “Your office is a mess.”

“Yes… I didn’t have time to pick up. I’ve got something like thirty thousand in expenses I started to work on.” The stress in his voice makes my heart ache. “Can you bring them home, and I’ll swing by to pick them up as soon as I have a chance?”

Damn it. This is like last month all over again. At least, this time he’s down to thirty. “Okay. Let me grab them.” I reach for the receipts, stacking them on each other.

“He’ll want to see the cost on the open projects,” Bill warns. “I know it’s a holiday weekend-”

These issues are the entire reason I’m here. When Isabela got sick, Bill concentrated on keeping the work going, but he didn’t realize the issue with the paperwork until it was too late. If Corporate did an audit, they’d quickly realize how bad this mess is and he could lose his job. I can’t let that happen. Bill’s the closest thing to a father I’ve ever known.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” I try my best to sound as sure of myself as possible, because the thought of spending time alone with Addler makes my tummy twist. “You go take care of your family.”

Footsteps sound on the portable building’s hollow floor, getting louder as the visitors approach. I shove invoices and balled-up pieces of paper into the plastic bag with the remnants of my lunch. Then I swoop down, pick up the two pieces on the floor, and cram them in along with the others before folding one plastic handle over the other. The big smiley face on the bag mocks me with Have a Nice Day.

My gaze skims over the large wooden desk, satisfied that it’s at least presentable.

“I managed t-” Bill adds.

I press the button, ending the call. I hate to cut him off, but I’m out of time.

“Oh,” Sage says from behind me. “Is he out?”

“Yes.” I let the phone slide off my shoulder, catching it against my breast as I turn. Sage stands there expectantly, eyes dancing.

My gaze shifts behind her to the man who’s taller than the doorway. Addler de Marco, the jerk who ruined my life.