Bound By By A Billionaire’s Will

THE FIRST SHOT MISSED June Moore’s head by an inch as she fell hard on the floor. She heard the glass above her shatter, then scatter into a million tiny pieces around her. She crawled ahead, towards the back door. Mindful of the tiny life she carried within her, and prayed that the shooter—or shooters—didn’t know her one-room apartment had a back door that led to the alley. Through the alley, she would take the short-cut that led to Olivia’s, her best friend’s apartment, and hide there. Another shot rang out as she slid through the door and closed it quietly. On the pavement, she crawled on all fours, gritting her teeth as her knees scrapped the cold ground. But her mind was oblivious to the pain. She had to hurry. If the shooter grew impatient and broke into her room, she’d be done for. Once she got to the alley, June broke into a run. Not caring that her feet were bare, or that the cold made her modest nightgown cling to her pale skin, making her look out of place. When she saw the familiar cream and brown tinge of Olivia’s apartment, she gasped in a breath of relief. With shaky hands, she knocked frantically on the door and only stopped when she heard Olivia’s familiar “I’m coming.” The warmth and normalcy in Olivia’s voice, a sharp contrast to her trembling state of mind, made her crumple to the floor. “June!” Olivia said as soon as she saw her. “What happened?” “I think...” June said in a trembling voice. “I think someone just tried to kill me.” — “I don’t understand,” Olivia said, locking the door and drawing the curtains. “Who would want to hurt you?” June shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.” “But you don’t have any enemies,” Olivia reasoned. “I mean, apart from Clarissa and Alex, who, by the way, are too spineless to hire an assassin.” June’s stomach twisted. Clarissa Whitmore was an ice-blonde master manipulator and art-world royalty. Back when June used to work for her, she had praised many of her paintings until she became jealous and started stealing June’s unfinished ideas, which she branded as collaborative work when June accosted her. Later, she used her connections to get June blacklisted and kicked out of the Lés Miserables Studio. Then there was Alex Brittan. Sweet, charming Alex, who’d chased her, told her she was the century’s brilliant painter the world was waiting to discover, then turned around and proposed to Clarissa in front of June, at a charity gala. Four months later, she’d agreed to date him. Alex’s betrayal had been a blow to her heart but Clarissa’s gloating smile as everyone in the gala gathered around her to admire her diamond ring had turned June’s gaze red. She swore revenge on them, a fact she’d let them know as she stormed out of the ballroom. She’d hoped to use Leo Cavallo to get it. Then, she hadn’t known a lot about him. Only that he was a billionaire who had enough power to get her back into the good graces of the shareholders of Lés Miserables. But one drink had led to another drink, and their innocent conversation had led to something more heated. After their third drink, Leo had all but dragged her to his suite where they spent a passionate night. Two months later, and without her revenge in sight, June’s test strip turned pink. So, was that it? Did her threat push Clarissa and Alex to hire a killer? After a few moments of thinking, June shook her head. It wasn’t reasonable. Although Clarissa and Alex would keep bad blood for their aristocratic position, June didn’t think they had it in them to draw blood. Olivia was right. They were too spineless. Clarissa was too much of a snake and Alex was too much of a d**k. So, who did it? June chewed her lower lip, able to think now that the worst was behind her. She rubbed her still-flat stomach, then her eyes flew open. “Leo!” She refused to believe he was the one, but the timeline fit perfectly. “The father of your child?” Olivia asked, aghast. “I told him I was pregnant,” June said, pacing, “and then a week after I did, I almost got killed?” She stopped, stunned by her discovery. “It’s Leo.” “June, Leo might be a bastard, but murder? That’s too far.” “I threatened him, Liv. I told him I would spread lies about our one-night stand all over the media by accusing him of r**e. But I didn’t mean it, I swear. I just wanted him to put in a good word for me at LésMiserables, like he’d promised. Instead, he chose to protect his image and hired someone to silence me. I mean, apart from you and my parents, he’s the only outsider who knows where I live.” June stopped talking, shattered by this new realization. “Apparently, he cares more about his business than he does about me.” Suddenly, she remembered Leo’s parting words: “Take care of it, or I will.” Words that had first surprised her then hurt her because she’d secretly hoped there was something between them. June wrapped her arms around herself. “Liv, one thing I know for sure is that someone wants me dead, and it’s not because I’m better than them. It’s because I decided to keep this baby.”