Her Secret Billionaire, page 1
“You’re scared of this,” Garrett said.
He pointed back and forth between them. “But I’m not. I’ve had nothing but a week to think about what I would do to you.”
Egypt was afraid of the intense attraction she felt for this man, who was a stranger to her, but whom she couldn’t seem to stop thinking of, dreaming of, even though she’d tried.
“And what might that be?” she challenged. She was tired of pretending, tired of waiting for...the inevitable.
Tension was a tight coil inside Egypt’s belly. She told herself his kiss would be like all the others, but when his mouth finally slanted across hers, it was a shock to her system. His lips moved over hers deliberately, thoroughly in a sensual exploration.
She kissed him back hungrily as she went up in a mad blaze of passion.
***
Her Secret Billionaire by Yahrah St. John is part of the Six Gems series.
Dear Reader,
The idea for this exciting new series is the result of a 2021 girls’ trip with my besties to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. We missed going on our annual trips and decided it was time for a change. Over a firepit, while we were drinking wine, the Six Gems idea was born about six girlfriends who, thanks to a surprise inheritance, are able to pursue their dreams and happen to find their happily-ever-afters along the way.
I knew from the first book, Her Best Friend’s Brother, that Egypt Cox was going to be the next heroine. She was such an outspoken and larger-than-life character that she immediately appealed to me. The setup? Egypt has just opened her dream restaurant, Flame, and in walks sexy Garrett Forrester, sole heir to Forrester Holdings. The chemistry is immediate, but Garrett is robbed outside her restaurant and wakes up without his memory. Will the sparks they shared translate when he has amnesia? Absolutely. And while Garrett can’t remember who he is, he knows he wants Egypt and will move heaven and earth to keep her.
Want more YSJ news? Visit my website or join my newsletter at www.yahrahstjohn.com.
Sincerely,
Yahrah St. John
Her Secret Billionaire
Yahrah St. John
Yahrah St. John became a writer at the age of twelve when she wrote her first novella after secretly reading a Harlequin romance. Throughout her teens, she penned a total of twenty novellas. Her love of the craft continued into adulthood. She’s the proud author of forty-six books with Harlequin Desire, Kimani Romance and Arabesque, as well as her own indie books.
Books by Yahrah St. John
Harlequin Desire
The Stewart Heirs
At the CEO’s Pleasure
His Marriage Demand
Red Carpet Redemption
Locketts of Tuxedo Park
Consequences of Passion
Blind Date with the Spare Heir
Holiday Playbook
A Game Between Friends
Six Gems
Her Best Friend’s Brother
Her Secret Billionaire
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
You can also find Yahrah St. John on Facebook, along with other Harlequin Desire authors, at Facebook.com/HarlequinDesireAuthors!
To my publicist, Keisha Mennefee,
for encouraging me when I’m down and out.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Excerpt from More Than Rivals... by Susannah Erwin
Prologue
One year ago
Egypt Cox stared at the clock from the plush king-size bed of Helaine Smith’s mansion. It read 1:00 a.m. Usually she slept like a rock, but so much had happened over the last week, her mind was wandering.
Helaine was her best friend Wynter Barrington’s aunt, and she’d always treated Egypt with kindness, respect and, dare she say, love. She’d invited Egypt to her home countless times and hadn’t minded if Egypt wanted to try cooking a dish or two. When Egypt mentioned opening her own restaurant someday, Helaine championed her and told her all things were possible. Egypt came to think of the older woman as the grandmother she never had. So, it was strange to be sleeping in her home without her. Over a week ago, Helaine had passed away from a brain aneurysm.
Despite how busy she was with her food truck in Raleigh, North Carolina, Egypt knew she had to come to San Antonio and support her bestie. Wynter had rushed home from Bali, where she’d been working as a content creator, for the funeral. Neither of them knew what was in store for them after the service.
Earlier in the week, Egypt had received a call from an attorney named Sidney Carter, but between the food truck and making last-minute travel arrangements, she’d been too busy to respond. She wished she had. Then perhaps she, Wynter and the other women who made up the Six Gems, Asia Reynolds, Shay Davis, Lyric Taylor and Teagan Williams—her best friends for life—wouldn’t have been blindsided at the reading of Helaine’s will.
After the funeral, Mr. Carter asked each of the women to accompany him along with the Barrington family into the study at the Barrington estate. Then he proceeded to drop the bombshell that Wynter was inheriting the lion’s share of Helaine’s estate, and the kind older woman had left each of the remaining Six Gems two hundred thousand dollars each to pursue their dreams of opening their own businesses.
Egypt had been stunned and so appreciative, but the moment hadn’t lasted. Wynter’s family was furious and threatened to challenge the will. To make matters worse, the Barringtons turned against one of their own, accusing Wynter of bamboozling Helaine. It was unthinkable. Egypt was ready to go for battle for her friend, but she didn’t have to. Wynter packed her bags and left the estate for Helaine’s, and the other five Gems had come with her.
But that didn’t mean Egypt knew exactly what to do next. Although her food truck was thriving and she’d been saving for her own restaurant in the hopes of getting a loan one day, she’d always thought that day would be far off in the future. She would’ve had her restaurant much sooner if her lying ex-boyfriend hadn’t taken all her savings and left her with nothing. Because of Antwan, Egypt steered clear of emotional entanglements with men and kept it to the physical. It’s all she had to give because she had to build her next egg from scratch. Helaine’s generous endowment would go a long way with the banks in proving she had some financial backing to proceed with a big undertaking like this.
And she would make this dream come true, because whenever Egypt set her mind to do something, like Helaine said, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t accomplish.
One
Present day
Egypt stirred the Cajun aioli that would be a condiment to her crab-and-corn fritters. They were one of her specialties, because everyone in town loved the fritters filled with cheddar cheese, pickled onions and bacon. It was one of the many dishes customers had come to love since she opened Flame in her new hometown of Raleigh.
She’d moved here from San Antonio in search of a place that spoke to her Southern roots and the food she longed to cook. Her mother, Virginia, God bless her soul, had died when Egypt was six years old from breast cancer. She was from Raleigh, so Egypt felt like the city was a good place to start.
Her father, Anthony Cox, missed his baby girl and soon followed Egypt to Raleigh. He was now working for the city’s planning department. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it paid the bills. It had always been Egypt and her dad. He was her hero and the man she measured every other man against.
“Chef, would you like to taste this dish?” her sous-chef, Quentin Coleman, inquired. Quentin was tall and lanky with a warm smile and a nut-brown complexion. He wore his hair faded around the crown and in short twists on top.
“Absolutely.” Egypt took the proffered fork. When she placed the morsel in her mouth, the flavors burst on her tongue. It was amazing. She was glad she’d hired Quentin. He only had experience as a line cook when she interviewed him, but when Egypt asked Quentin to cook his signature dish on the fly, he hadn’t hesitated. His shrimp and grits were phenomenal, and she’d offered him the job on the spot. She hadn’t regretted her decision.
“Phenomenal.” Egypt smiled. “Really great work, Quentin.”
“You think so?” She hated that he was still unsure of himself. To be in the kitchen, you had to be arrogant about your craft, but he was young, only twenty-two. They were going to have to work on his confidence.
“Yes. Go ahead and prepare the dishes so the staff can have a taste.”
Egypt left the kitchen to check on the front of the house and make sure everything was in order. The restaurant wasn’t opening for another two hours, but she liked her staff to taste the meals on the dinner serv ice.
When she stepped into the restaurant, Egypt’s heart became full. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe this place was hers and they’d been open two months.
She’d been lucky to find this storefront location in Glenwood South. It was an up-and-coming area exploding with young professionals and progressive restaurants. It was the right place for Flame. The restaurant wasn’t large and only sat eighty at wooden tables with padded leather seats and a few booths. She loved how the overly large windows let in plenty of natural light and showed off the warm yellow and beige tones she’d chosen.
As for the floors, they were a polished concrete, stained with a swirl design. The fully-stocked bar was surrounded by dark planks of wood while the counters were a stainless steel that could withstand wear and tear. Tall bar stools abutted the bar and sat at least eight. The rest of her decor was minimal—metal art along with some eclectic pieces from her best friend Asia covered the walls. Flame was exactly how she envisioned. Her blood, sweat and tears, along with a little help from a heavenly angel, had made it all possible.
She found her hostess, Tessa Rogers, chatting it up with several of the servers. Five foot eight with silky brown hair and a slim figure in a black tank minidress, Tessa was easy on the eyes and exactly the person she needed up front. Egypt wasn’t oblivious to the fact that first impressions mattered.
Tessa was friendly, gregarious and made guests feel at home, which was exactly what Egypt wanted for Flame. Most of the servers were college students. Then there were the veterans that she’d been able to entice away from the restaurant where she used to work. Her former boss, Chef Raphael, was a horrible human being who belittled the cooks in his kitchen. Egypt had been one of them. She’d hung in long enough to gain the knowledge she needed, but as soon as she could, she struck out on her own and opened her own food truck.
It had taken her longer than she’d hoped, because her ex-boyfriend took her savings and ran. Thinking about him was distasteful, so Egypt returned to the task at hand. It didn’t stop her from remembering how foolish she felt for believing Antwan, hell, any man. Above all, she needed honesty in a relationship and since she didn’t have time for one, she would only trust herself and the Gems because they’d never let her down. After she ensured the servers were on top of things, Egypt made her way to the kitchen. Quentin had several family-style platters from their winter menu ready for the waitstaff to sample. There were appetizers of pan-fried chicken livers with caramelized onions with a Madeira demi-glace and crispy Brussels sprouts with bacon in a sweet chili glaze. For the entrée, she’d whipped up blackened catfish with red rice, fried green tomatoes with a habanero chutney and a sautéed shrimp and scallop dish over creamy white grits in a lobster-butter sauce with fried spinach.
Soon, Egypt was sitting down with her staff and enjoying the meal. Everyone passed around the dishes and oohed and ahhed over her and Quentin’s creations. It was a collaborative environment, something she’d always craved and had now achieved. Egypt glanced upward to heaven. Thank you, Aunt Helaine.
* * *
“Mother, Father.” Garrett Forrester nodded at his parents as he walked into the living room of their palatial six-bedroom, seven-and-a-half-bath family home in Wakefield Plantation. It was a cold night in early January, and there was a large roaring fire in the two-story stone fireplace.
Garrett had endured a long day at the office of the family company, Forrester Holdings Corporation, and wanted to go home to a hot meal and a scotch. Instead, he’d been summoned to a family meeting. He wondered if it had something to do with his maternal grandfather, Cyrus Walker, who had died a couple of weeks ago and bequeathed him Walker Farms. Garrett hadn’t decided what he wanted to do with it.
“Please have a seat, Thomas.” His father, Hugh, motioned to the chair across from his parents, who sat on the love seat. Hugh Forrester was imposing man with his six-foot-four stature, black hair graying out at the temples and piercing dark eyes.
His father knew he preferred to be called Garrett, his grandfather Cyrus’s middle name, but Hugh persisted in using his given name. Garrett wasn’t in the mood for a battle, so he sat on the edge of the chair and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He’d come straight from work and after removing his overcoat was still in his usual attire of a single-breasted suit and shirt and tie, like his father. What he wouldn’t give to dress like an everyday joe once in a while. “What’s going on?”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do with your grandfather’s farm?” his father asked.
“Not yet.” Some of his fondest memories were when his mother sent him to the farm to be with his grandparents for the summer. Instead of looking at boring facts and figures, Garrett had spent his time on top of a tractor or helping his grandfather pick vegetables.
Losing him hurt, but Garrett tried not to show it, because that’s not what Forresters did. They had a stiff upper lip. Even so, Garrett still hadn’t accepted he’d never see the old man again. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes tight. His eyes were burning with the effort to rein in his emotions. He loved Cyrus, sometimes more than his own father, because he’d been kind, patient and loving.
“Don’t you think it’s time you figure it out? We can’t afford to have you distracted dealing with a ramshackle farm.”
“The farm was Daddy’s pride and joy, Hugh,” his mother, Corrine, responded. “Daddy took excellent care of the land.” His mother, with her gentle brown eyes, long bob to her shoulders and a keen eye for fashion, sat in slacks and a matching camisole and sweater set. She was the epitome of class and sophistication, but she was too soft-spoken and often allowed his father to rule their house.
“It’s been hanging on for years, Corrine. It’s time it was sold. Maybe someone can make good use of the land and build a hotel or something.”
“No!” The word was out of Garrett’s mouth before he even realized he said it. Hearing his father talk about getting rid of the farm that had been in his maternal family for years was sacrilege.
Hugh frowned. “What do you mean, no?”
“You heard me,” Garrett responded. “I won’t be selling.”
“Garrett...” He didn’t like his father’s condescending tone, as if he alone knew everything. His parents had had Garrett later in life and were now in their mid-seventies, after his mother struggled with several miscarriages. Garrett had been their miracle baby and the one on whom they laid all their hopes and dreams, including running the family business. He’d done everything they’d ever asked of him, but not this. He’d put his personal life on the backburner keeping his relationships brief and as an outlet for physical release because he couldn’t offer anything more. His work was his life. Garrett was even sure if he wanted to have a family some day. Maybe. It was so far off in the future, he never thought about it.
“Don’t start, Father. I run a billion-dollar company—I’m more than capable of dealing with three hundred acres of land. I don’t have all the answers on the farm’s next steps, but when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
His father was about to speak, but when he looked toward his wife, her expression brooked no further discussion, and for once he let the matter drop.
Garrett rose to his feet. “If that’s all, I’m going to head home.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” his father replied as he left. “That farm will be the death of you.”
Minutes later, Garrett was hopping into his Rolls-Royce Dawn and heading for the highway. The fresh air helped him clear his mind. He hadn’t actually thought about what he was going to do with the farm; he just knew he couldn’t sell his family legacy. He would visit Walker Farms, scope out the land and figure out his next move.
He dialed Kent Howell, the foreman of Walker Farms. “Kent, can you be sure all the farm’s records for the last five years are placed in my grandfather’s office?”
“Hello to you, too, Garrett. And yes, of course,” Kent replied.
Garrett and Kent went way back to when they were kids working on his grandfather’s farm, but it was Garrett who’d gone on to college while the other man stayed as a farmhand. “Thanks, Kent. I’ll see you then.” He ended the call. When he arrived, he would be able to dive in and see just how bad the farm’s finances really were.
