The Bravo Billionaire

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 1

Jonas Bravo did not like to wait.

Make no mistake. He knew how to wait. He was actually quite good at waiting—when he considered the wait worth it, when it would mean a fat return on an iffy investment, or a plum contract in his pocket.

He could wait and he had waited. But he refused to wait unnecessarily, when waiting, as he saw it, would get him nowhere.

People who made Jonas wait unnecessarily never did it more than once. Because the famous Bravo Billionaire had ways of showing his displeasure. He could do it with a look, with a certain inner stillness—a look and a stillness that made the object of his displeasure wonder just what kinds of scary, crazy things Jonas Bravo might do if pushed too far. They all knew the stories about him, about what he and his family had been through when he was a child, and the wild things he’d done during the earlier years of his manhood. So they wondered—and they worried.

And they didn’t displease him again.

Apparently, the receptionist at McAllister, Quinn and Associates, Attorneys at Law, had been warned not to make Jonas wait. Young, faultlessly groomed and predictably gorgeous, she glanced up when he got off the elevator, which opened about ten yards from her desk. Her stunning china-blue eyes went round as dinner plates as she regarded him across the expanse of parquet floor and good Oriental rugs.

She bounced to her feet. “Mr. Bravo. This way. Mr. McAllister is waiting for you.” She bustled to the big elaborately carved double doors that led to the inner sanctum and quickly pulled one of the doors wide. Jonas gave her a curt nod and went through, heading down the wide wood-paneled hallway toward Ambrose McAllister’s corner office.

The receptionist rushed along in his wake. “Um, Mr. Bravo. Mr. McAllister asked me to show you to the—”

Jonas froze her in her tracks with a sharp backward glance. “I can find my own way.”

“Oh. Well. Of course, whatever you—”

“Thanks.” He didn’t have to look behind him again to know that she had returned to the reception area where she belonged. He passed a few secretaries’ nooks. Ambrose’s minions looked up, muttered swift, respectful, Hello, Mr. Bravos and went back to what they were supposed to be doing.

Ambrose’s door opened just before Jonas reached it. The lawyer who had handled the personal legal affairs of the Los Angeles Bravos for over three decades didn’t miss a beat.

“Jonas. Here you are.” Ambrose took Jonas’s hand and shook it. Though he was well into his seventies now, Ambrose McAllister’s handshake remained firm and his bearing proud. “So good to see you.” Silver brows drew together in a perfectly orchestrated expression of concern—real concern, in this case, Jonas knew. Ambrose honestly cared for the members of the Bravo family and had become something of a family friend over the years. But he was a lawyer, and a damn good one. Good lawyers knew how to manufacture appropriate expressions on demand.

“How are you?” Ambrose asked.

“Fine.”

Ambrose shook his head sadly. “I know I already said this at the funeral, but Blythe is missed. Greatly.”

Jonas dipped his head in acknowledgement of the lawyer’s sympathetic words. Since the death of his mother, Blythe Hamilton Bravo, seven days before, Jonas had heard a lot of condolences and he’d done a lot of nodding in acknowledgement.

“And how is that beautiful little sister of yours?”

“Mandy’s doing well.”

Jonas’s sister, Amanda, had been adopted by his mother two years ago. At the time of the adoption, Jonas had been furious at Blythe. The way he saw it then, she had no business taking on an infant at an age when most women were well into their grandmothering years.

But Jonas’s fury had not lasted. How could it? Mandy was…special. She had the knack for melting even the hardest of hearts. Jonas still wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but somehow, the sprite had managed to break down even his considerable defenses. Within a month of the baby’s coming into their lives, Jonas had accepted his fate. He loved his little sister and he would do anything for her.

Ambrose leaned closer and spoke more confidentially. “You know, don’t you, that if there is anything I can do, not only as your family’s attorney, but as a—”

“I do know, Ambrose. And I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“Damn it.” Ambrose lowered his voice even further.

“She was too young. Only sixty…” Blythe had died of a particularly virulent form of leukemia. It had struck suddenly and killed her within two months of the original diagnosis. “I know it must be difficult, for both you and the child.”

“Honestly Ambrose, we’re managing.”

The lines of concern between the silver brows deepened—and then relaxed. “Well. I’m glad to hear it.” Ambrose clapped Jonas on the arm and let go of his hand. “Let’s move on to the West Conference Room, shall we? We’ll be more comfortable there.”