Escaping with the Billionaire: The Maverick Prince / Billionaire, M.D.. Catherine Mann
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“There’s no way I can stay with you.”
“You can’t hide from what’s been unleashed. Today should tell you that more than anything. It’ll find you and your son. I’m sorry for not seeing this coming, but it’s here and we have to deal with it.”
Fear for her son warred with her anger at Tony. “You had no right,” she hissed between clenched teeth, “no right at all to play with our lives this way.”
“I agree.” He surprised her with that. However, the reprieve was short. “But I’m the only one who can stand between you both and whatever fallout comes from this revelation.”
Chapter 2
A bodyguard stood outside the front door of her first-floor apartment. A bodyguard, for heaven’s sake, a burly guy in a dark suit who could have passed for a Secret Service employee. She stifled the urge to scream in frustration.
Shannon flung herself out of the Escalade before it came to a complete stop, desperate to see her child, to get inside her tiny apartment in hopes that life would somehow return to normal. Tony couldn’t be serious about her packing up to go away with him. He was just using this to try to get back together again.
Although what did a prince want with her?
At least there weren’t any reporters in the parking lot. The neighbors all seemed to be inside for the evening or out enjoying their own party plans. She’d chosen the large complex for the anonymity it offered. Multiple three-story buildings filled the corner block, making it difficult to tell one apartment from another in the stretches of yellow units with tiny white balconies. At the center of it all, there was a pool and tiny playground, the only luxuries she’d allowed herself. She might not be able to give Kolby a huge yard, but he would have an outdoor place to play.
Now she had to start the search for a haven all over again.
“Here,” she said as she thrust her purse toward him, her keys in her hand, “please carry this so I can unlock the door.”
He extended his arm, her hobo bag dangling from his big fist. “Uh, sure.”
“This is not the time to freak out over holding a woman’s purse.” She fumbled for the correct key.
“Shannon, I’m here for you. For you and your handbag.”
She glanced back sharply. “Don’t mock me.”
“I thought you enjoyed my sense of humor.”
Hadn’t she thought just the same thing earlier? How could she say good-bye to Tony—he would never be Antonio to her—forever? Her feet slowed on the walkway between the simple hedges, nowhere near as elaborate as the gardens of her old home with Nolan, but well maintained. The place was clean.
And safe.
Having Tony at her back provided an extra layer of protection, she had to admit. After he’d made his shocking demand that she pack, he’d pulled out his phone and began checking in with his lawyer. From what she could tell hearing one side of the conversation, the news was spreading fast, with no indication of how the Global Intruder’s people had cracked his cover. Tony didn’t lose his temper or even curse.
But her normally lighthearted lover definitely wasn’t smiling.
She ignored the soft note of regret spreading through her for all she would leave behind—this place. Tony. He strode alongside her silently, the outside lights casting his shadow over hers intimately, moving, tangling the two together as they walked.
Stopping at her unit three doors down from the corner, Tony exchanged low words with the guard while she slid the key into the lock with shaking hands. She pushed her way inside and ran smack into the babysitter already trying to open up for her. The college senior was majoring in elementary education and lived in the same complex. There might only be seven years between her and the girl in a concert T-shirt, but Shannon couldn’t help but feel her own university days spent studying to be a teacher happened eons ago.
Shannon forced herself to stay calm. “Courtney, thanks for calling me. Where’s Kolby?”
The sitter studied her with undisguised curiosity—who could blame her?—and pointed down the narrow hall toward the living room. “He’s asleep on the couch. I thought it might be better to keep him with me in case any reporters started showing up outside or something.” She hitched her bulging backpack onto one shoulder. “I don’t think they would stake out his window, but ya never know. Right?”
“Thank you, Courtney. You did exactly the right thing.” She angled down the hall to peek in on Kolby.
Her three-year-old son slept curled on the imported leather sofa, one of the few pieces that hadn’t been sold to pay off debts. Kolby had poked a hole in the armrest with a fountain pen just before the estate sale. Shannon had strapped duct tape over the tear, grateful for one less piece of furniture to buy to start her new life.
Every penny she earned needed to be tucked away for emergencies. Kolby counted on her, her sweet baby boy in his favorite Thomas the Tank Engine pj’s, matching blanket held up to his nose. His blond hair was tousled and spiking, still damp from his bath. She could almost smell the baby-powder sweetness from across the room.
Sagging against the archway with relief, she turned back to Courtney. “I need to pay you.”
Shannon took back her hobo bag from Tony and tunneled through frantically, dropping her wallet. Change clanked on the tile floor.
What would a three-year-old think if he saw his mother’s face in some news report? Or Tony’s, for that matter? The two had only met briefly a few times, but Kolby knew he was Mama’s friend. She scooped the coins into a pile, picking at quarters and dimes.
Tony cupped her shoulder. “I’ve got it. Go ahead and be with your son.”
She glanced up sharply, her nerves too raw to take the reminder of how he’d offered her financial help mere moments after sex last weekend. “I can pay my own way.”
Holding up his hands, he backed away.
“Fine, Shannon. I’ll sit with Kolby.” He cautioned her with a look not to mention their plans to pack and leave.
Duh. Not that she planned to follow all his dictates, but the fewer who knew their next move the better for avoiding the press and anyone else who might profit from tracking their moves. Even the best of friends could be bought off.
Speaking of payoffs… “Thank you for calling me so quickly.” She peeled off an extra twenty and tried not to wince as she said goodbye to ice cream for the month. She usually traded babysitting with another flat-broke single mom in the building when needed for work and dates. Courtney was only her backup, which she couldn’t—and didn’t—use often. “I appreciate your help.”
Shaking her head, Courtney took the money and passed back the extra twenty. “You don’t need to give me all that, Mrs. Crawford. I was only doing my job. And I’m not gonna talk to the reporters. I’m not the kind of person who would sell your story or something.”