Sugar Pie

  Victoria Pinder

  Honey Bun

  Copyright©2021

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

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  Published in the United States of America.

  Copyright © 2021 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Series Information

  Join Victoria Pinder

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  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 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Dream Boat Preview

  Also by Victoria Pinder

  About the Author

  Series Information

  Virgin Cove Trillionaire Single Brothers

  Honey Bun

  Handsome

  Sugar Pie

  Dream Boat

  Lover Boy

  Play Boy

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  1

  Warren

  The helicopter circled the beach house of my adopted parents as I read the market report and recommendations.

  It was my twenty-eighth birthday, which meant it was time to go home.

  The pilot hovered over our helipad, and I knew that I would soon be swept into the only family I remembered.

  My birth parents had died when I was four, but once in a while, they haunted my dreams. I always wanted to see how they viewed the world and whether my life would have been different if they were alive.

  I filed my papers away as the helicopter landed then unbuckled my seat belt as the blades slowed.

  Once the pilot gave the signal that it was safe, I let myself out and followed the trail to the Virgin Isle beach home where I’d spent most of my summers when we weren’t in Manhattan.

  The second I made it to the patio, the lights inside the house went out. I was absolutely sure they were going to yell “surprise!”—it was my birthday, and Maman had insisted that I show up. I wiped my feet and left my shoes at the door, which had been one of my first lessons in Persian culture when I first met them—good boys and girls do not mess up the rugs.

  As I closed the door behind me, my mother, Roxanne Norouzi, held out her arms and pulled me into a hug. “Glad you could make it.”

  “If I skipped my birthday, you’d never forgive me.”

  She then brushed my reddish-blond hair off of my forehead and made the face that meant I should have cut it, though neither of us said a word. I walked into the main house beside her.

  She took my arm and directed us though the dark room. “You’re getting too old to be single.” She was relentless and had already succeeded with a few of us.

  “You should enjoy having your new daughters-in-law from Joel, Arman, and Cyrus. You don’t need one from me.”

  She massaged my shoulder as if I was a petulant child and moved me toward the dining room. “I want to see you happy and settled.”

  “Happy birthday!” my entire family shouted when we entered.

  I glanced around and saw my Pedar, the trillionaire known to the world as Parvis Norouzi. Beside him was my adopted brother, Joel, and his wife, Kendal, who stood next to the full-blooded son and oldest of the family, Arman, his wife, Maddie, and their daughter. Next to Arman was Cyrus, another biological son, and his wife, Sarah, and their little boy laughed together. Elon, Gerard, and Kir stood in a circle, leaving a place for me. Elon, Gerard, and I were adopted at the same time and were all the same age as Kir, who had been born a Norouzi. To the side stood Charles, Jeff, Roman, and Xersus, the youngest of our family members. We were a mix of ethnicities, all brought together as one family.

  My brothers were honestly my only friends and the only people other than my parents for whom I would drop everything.

  Pedar handed us all champagne glasses then handed me a paper. The year before, it had been a deed to a yacht with my name on it, and we’d all sailed to meet for the holidays on our new family island.

  I unfolded the paper and rocked on my feet. It wasn’t a deed but a seat on the board of his trust with the payout being one-twelfth of his estate. My eyes widened. “What’s this?”

  My father smiled and patted me on my back. “It’s not your present, but you’re the one who never asked. And Maman thought you should read it. It’s a copy of my will.”

  I’d done nothing in my life to deserve a trillion dollars. My heart beat faster. “Why?”

  The only man I’d ever thought of as a father gazed at me with his warm brown eyes. “I thought it was time you, Joel, Elon, Gerard, Charles, Jeff, and Roman know it’s final that all my children are equal, just as Maman and I have said since you came home. Arman, Cyrus, Kir, and Xerses were all in agreement.”

  I handed him the will as quickly as I could. “I don’t want your money.”

  Kir, the financial genius among the sons, quickly said, “One-tenth of it is over a trillion.”

  Even divided among us, it wasn’t for me. I swallowed hard. “I… can’t accept.”

  Pedar shrugged and guided us to the table for my birthday dinner. “I’m not dying any time soon, so don’t worry about it.”

  I went to my seat but puffed out my chest. It was time I showed my family and myself that I had the power inside me to do things on my own. Otherwise, I would never accept the cash. Maybe I shouldn’t even have taken the education, career, or helicopter rides that seemed normal to me.

  I wasn’t born into privilege. I remembered that much as I said, “No. I need to prove myself worthy.”

  My mother passed a carafe of black tea around the table. “What are you talking about?”

  No one else there was like I was. My adopted brothers never once questioned anything, and I needed to stop believing I was a fraud. I lifted my chin. “You once said I was worth your time and love, and I worked for years to be the best son to you that I can be.”

  Maman stared at me as if she saw right through me. “You are. I love you. Your father loves you.”

  Except I’d never been asked to prove that. “And I love you both. I’m more grateful than you know, but I need to prove to myself that I can start a business from scratch and make it succeed without being your son.”

  Jeff, the lawyer of the family, asked, “What are you going to do?”

  The idea had played in my mind since I graduated with my MBA in finance. If I’d not been picked by Maman and Pedar, there was zero way I could have earned Ivy League degrees. I didn’t even know how anyone lived without cash.

  And I wanted to. It quickly turned from an idea into a plan. I blinked, and everything I’d ever intended became my mission. I stared across the table. “I was born in Greenville, North Carolina. So I want to start there.”

  Pedar shrugged and motioned for our dinner to be served. “Don’t take too long.”

  Fair. The people at the table were my family. They were all I had. I swallowed. “I won’t be more than a year.”

  My mother didn’t even blink. “And you call me.”

  As a teenager, I needed that undying devotion she had to me and all of us. However, the idea of just seeing w
here I was born and figuring out how people without unlimited resources lived seemed more important to me than enjoying a birthday cake. I nodded. “I will.”

  Two days later, my plan went into motion. The year before, I’d started the paperwork to get my general contracting license, as I’d played with the idea for a long time. With everything settled in my mind, I booked a small apartment in Greenville, had it furnished, and decided to start my life with only five grand in start-up funds.

  If I could transform $5000 into a million-dollar company then I would hold my head up and accept that my mother had been right about me.

  A knock sounded on my door as I checked that my backpack had everything I’d requested.

  Maman let herself in and wrapped her arms around me. Her hug silenced me.

  When she let me go, she folded my shirts and put them in my bag. “Don’t disappear from me for too long, and take some breakfast and snacks for your trip.”

  I laughed and finished packing beside her. “I’ll stay in touch. I gave myself a one-year break from my job, so it won’t be forever.”

  “I hope so.”

  I zipped my one bag, which was all I would take.

  “I love you, Warren.”

  “I love you too, Maman.” I hugged her tightly.

  Without the Norouzi family, I would have grown up on my own with social workers checking in on me once a week. When I was almost four, my birth parents died months apart from overdoses, though I was always thankful that my birth mother had tried to stay clean when she was pregnant with me, or so the paperwork read. I hardly remembered either of them.

  Maman walked me to the front door and opened it to reveal a driveway still lined with my brothers’ various sports cars.

  However, instead of a helicopter, limo, airplane, or sports car, I hopped in an old truck the servants had on hand and headed to the apartment I’d rented online.

  Once I cleared the small beach town that housed the private estate of the Norouzi clan near the beach, I followed signs for the highway and reviewed my plan. Six hundred dollars a month for rent seemed cheap. I’d worn more costly shoes than that to my Wall Street job. As I started my new adventure, I wore sneakers. I had work boots on order. I wanted to fit in to my new environment. Jeans and T-shirts were all I needed.

  The drive to North Carolina took all day, but I had my general contractor license, my place, and my truck. Soon enough, I would launch my business empire without using the family resources at my disposal.

  At the end of the long drive, I checked in with the landlord, grabbed the keys, and headed to my apartment.

  As I opened the door, I blinked at the sight of the square apartment that seemed too small for my broad shoulders. The tiny linoleum-floored kitchen sat to my right, near the front door. In front of me was a small dining area with a table for two. The living area was equally small, and inside the one door was the bedroom with an en suite bathroom.

  My bathroom in Manhattan had been bigger than the entire place. The apartment was clearly designed for a small person, which I was not.

  I made toast with the flatbread my mother had insisted I pack. Next, I needed a shower and a good night’s sleep.

  The next day, I would start my first day as a general contractor, just like my birth father had been before his overdose. I figured it was the beginning of something new.

  Sleep came quickly after the long drive, and I awoke to my first few online jobs, which I’d set up before leaving. I cleaned myself up then finished the last of the bread. It was time to get started.

  I’m not sure why seeing where I came from mattered to me, but it did. I drove to Greenville to start, where I’d been born, which seemed appropriate even though I didn’t remember it. No one would have thought to find the adopted son of a trillionaire there, working with his hands.

  I drove my truck to my first job. The community was named, but there was no formal security gate to check IDs. I parked in front of the McMansion, and a redhead with her hair in a bun and dressed for high tea with the Queen answered when I knocked on the front door.

  “I’m Warren Tate, here for your electrical work.”

  Tate had been my birth parents’ last name. Not calling myself a Norouzi felt like a betrayal of trust, though it didn’t matter just then.

  Mrs. Morris, the redhead, waved me to the side and pointed me to her high-ceilinged dining room, which had a box sitting on the floor. “Go. I want this chandelier to sparkle in my house.”

  I would have guessed that she’d spent three hundred max on the piece—Maman was an interior designer when she wanted to be, and I’d learned a thing or two from her. However, not everyone grew up in mansions and had access to everything. I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She made a tsk then left me alone.

  My only issue was that I had no ladder. I needed to spend money on supplies and go to the store immediately.

  Luckily, the redhead hadn’t seemed to notice anything odd about me, such as the fact that I was rich.

  I assembled the base of the chandelier, leafing off the fake crystals, and had set it on the floor when I heard someone singing.

  I followed the voice and found a gorgeous brunette, dressed all in black and washing dishes.

  “Excuse me,” I called.

  She turned off the water and faced me.

  I did a double take, and my heart flip-flopped. It took me a second to catch my breath. Something about her called to me.

  She blinked. “Can I help you?”

  “Is there a ladder?” I asked, though I wanted to ask her if she would marry me on the spot. That feeling had never hit me before, and I never would have expected how my hair stood on end.

  She guided me to the garage and pointed to a six-foot A-frame ladder hung on the wall. I nodded, but before I could say thank you, she’d vanished.

  I blinked, unsure if she was even real. I wasn’t paid to daydream, so I grabbed the ladder and headed back out.

  Her soft singing shot electricity through my veins again at a higher voltage than I’d ever felt.

  Once finished with the chandelier, I’d just packed up the empty box and the flush light that I’d removed from the ceiling when I heard the redhead screech, “You broke my vase.”

  Beauty then said, “I’m so sorry.”

  “Get your things, missy.”

  I stood tall, as if I might protect her.

  Beauty then asked, “You’re firing me?”

  I glanced out the side of the open-concept doorway and into the kitchen, half-ready to jump in.

  Mrs. Morris had her chin in the air. “Your lack of care for my things shows enough about you.”

  Beauty put her hands together as if praying. “Please, I need—“

  My heart twisted.

  The redhead interrupted with “get out.” She then turned to give Beauty the cold shoulder.

  Beauty wiped her eyes. “Wait. What about my pay for the week?”

  The woman gave a loud sigh, opened her pocketbook, and dropped a few bills on the counter. “After what you already cost me, this should cover what’s left.”

  Beauty lowered her head.

  I stepped out of the shadows and called, “Ma’am, the chandelier is hung.”

  She rolled her eyes as she passed Beauty then stepped in front of me with her bag open. “Perfect.”

  Then she paid me the two-hundred-dollar installation fee.

  Beauty ran out of the room. I headed out to my truck and waited on the curb.

  That day, I’d spent twenty-five dollars for gas and food, but I made two hundred dollars. It wasn’t the start of a million-dollar idea, and I needed to move more quickly. I had one more two-hundred-dollar job that day. I would have to get a better system in place to line up jobs for myself, but it was a start. I was in no position to help unless I broke my promises to myself on the first day of work.