The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (8 page)

I keep my eyes on the wall decorations. Sleek, abstract art in gold and silver. Totally incomprehensible, just like Blake.

We make our way to a row of seats in the corner of the room. A woman is sitting quietly, nursing a glass of champagne. She's in her forties or fifties maybe; I've never been good with ages. Very thin, well-dressed, pretty but a little pale. Not typical New York
there's no sun all winter
pale. There's something off about her skin like she's ill or hungover or at least about to pass out.

Her eyes light up when she sees Blake. She looks me over, but it's different than the way everyone else did. There's a concern in her eyes. Affection, too.

She goes to stand. Blake cringes. It's the smallest thing, but she notices immediately.

She shakes her head. "My son has always been very protective." She turns to me. "You must be Kat."

"Yes." I struggle to meet her gaze. She has the same intensity that Blake does, like she can read my mind. "I've heard so much about you."

"Oh, you're so sweet to lie. If I know Blake, well, I doubt you've heard much about anything."

I smile. A real smile this time.

"Meryl. And, please, none of that Mrs. Sterling crap. If you insist, it's Miss. Can't have any eligible bachelors thinking I'm off the market."

I go to shake her hand, but she hugs me instead. Her head is pressed right up against my chest. Meryl is on the shorter side, and I'm wearing towering heels under my dress.

She laughs. "Ah! I see why my son likes you."

"Mom." Blake clears his throat. For a second, he sounds like a teenager complaining his parents are embarrassing him.

She laughs. "My son, it's not his fault, but he thinks I'm too old to notice these things." She turns to Blake. "One day you'll be in your late forties, too. You'll still be noticing breasts."

Blake's cheeks flush. Holy crap. His mom is embarrassing him. It's so normal.

Meryl shakes her head. "Dear, you need to sit? Those heels look excruciating."

"I'll be fine. I'm on my feet all day."

"Really? What do you do?"

"I'm a waitress." I brace for a snarky comment. Meryl seems nice, but people with money, you never know if they look down on the commoners.

"Isn't it supposed to be server nowadays?" she asks.

"It's all the same, really."

"You call shit roses, it still smells like shit." She laughs. "I used to wait tables at the nicest place in town. That's where I met the late Mr. Sterling."

"Oh?"

She nods. "You should have seen him. He dressed even better than Blake does. He was so flashy with his platinum watch. When Orson-"

"Orson, really?"

"I'm afraid so." She smiles and her whole face lights up. "When he came into the restaurant, it was a commotion. All the girls wanted that table. It was the dream to marry a rich customer. Best way to get a better life, but I hated the asshole."

"How did you two end up married?"

"I've embarrassed Blake too much already."

Blake is still red. It's amazing. I can hardly believe that he's capable of any kind of shyness.

I lean closer and lower my voice to a whisper. "I won't tell."

"It started off as sex. It was about the only thing we had in common, but we got caught up in the passion." She finishes her last drop of wine and moves towards the nearest waiter.

Blake fusses over Meryl, taking her glass and looking at her like she's the child and he's the parent.

She shakes her head. "I better let you go, dear. I'm sure Blake wants to show you off."

"Likely."

She studies my expression. "I wouldn't fault you if you were after his money or his looks."

My heart races. I look at Blake in the hopes he can rescue me from this conversation, but he's still finding another glass of wine.

"But I hope you are serious."

I nod and smile. It's not technically a lie.

"Be patient with him. His father wasn't a good man. It's no excuse, but..." She shakes her head, trailing off.

Blake arrives with two fresh glasses. He hands the champagne to me. "Give us a minute."

I nod. "Of course. It was lovely to meet you."

Meryl nods. Neither of them speaks until I turn, and even then, it's too quiet for me to hear.

***

I splash my face with cool water in the bathroom, but that only messes up my makeup. So much for picture perfect.

There's a flush, and one of the stall doors opens. I dig through my clutch like I'm looking for my lipstick. And there it is. May as well fix it. I glance in the mirror and Fiona is standing at the sink next to mine. Her eyes are red and puffy like she's been crying.

She washes her hands and pats them dry on a paper towel. Her reaction steels like she's absolutely fine. "I'm surprised he let you off his leash."

Big smile. It's not the time to start a fight. "Blake is very protective."

She nods like she agrees. "Try having him as an older brother. I couldn't date until he left for college."

"When he was sixteen?"

She shrugs and moves a little closer, looking me over like she's inspecting me. "I'm surprised he's calling you his girlfriend."

"Why is that?"

"He's never had a girlfriend." She pulls her lipstick out of her clutch, applies, and pouts at herself in the mirror. "And he's married to his job. Even worse than my husband." Her voice breaks.

"He makes time for me. And we're in love."

"That won't last."

Deep breath. It's a test and I need to pass. "I disagree. What Blake and I have... it's magical."

Fiona bites her lip. "You know, there are easier ways to find a meal ticket. Ways that won't destroy your happiness."

"I'm not after his money."

"It's not his sparkling personality."

"I care deeply for Blake." Big smile. That is the worst confession of passion in the world. I shake my head, letting a few of the waves of my hair loose. "I'm madly in love with Blake."

"I bet." She snaps her purse shut. "And do you also expect me to believe that his first serious girlfriend is someone with a shit job, no college degree, no family connections, and—no offense—only above average looks?"

Fuck you. Those are the most beautiful two words in the English language and it would be so easy to throw them at her.

But I'm taking the higher road.

"The heart wants what it wants," I say.

"He's not going to stay in love with someone like you." Her voice breaks. Her face contorts into a miserable expression. "That's not how it works."

"Maybe for other people. But not for us." I apply my lipstick and calmly walk out of the bathroom.

The sounds of the room rush around me. It's awfully loud in here, and everyone who looks at me does it like I'm an exhibit at the zoo. They're thinking the same thing Fiona was.
What the hell is he doing with her?

I won't let her get to me. I can play my part. I'm not a perfect ten by any means, but I'm cute enough. With the hair, the makeup, the cocktail dress, the four inch heels—I look damn good. It would be impossible to be as beautiful as Blake is, but I'm no slouch.

Besides, Blake isn't that superficial. He likes my personality. My sense of humor. My intellect.

A wave of dizziness hits me. I'm justifying my fake relationship. Blake likes me enough to continue this ruse with me, but he doesn't love me or my sense of humor or my intellect.

I look for him in that corner, but it's empty. Blake and Meryl are nowhere to be found. I wander around the party like I have a direction. Oh, a quiet balcony. That's much better than any other alternative.

There's someone in my way. Declan, the first guy I met here. He waves.

"Hey, Kat. Blake is about to give his speech."

"I'm just going to get some air," I say.

He pats my shoulder. "Nonsense." He leans in close and whispers. "I have it on good authority that he mentions you in it."

There's this twinkle in his eye, like he knows more than he's letting on. Okay, fine. I'm the ingénue. I'll play along.

I follow him into the main room. Oh, a server passing around a tray of champagne. Yes, please. The drink gets better with every glass. Really, it tastes like money.

Declan pats me on the back. He nods to a small stage. Blake is standing there. He's holding up his own glass of champagne like he's about to give a toast.

I must have missed something in the bathroom.

He scans the crowd, his eyes resting on me. He smiles, a big smile, but I can't tell if it's real or pretend.

"I know we're all very excited about the new Photos feature, but before I praise the dev team—you're all great, but this is a party." Blake holds up his glass. "Let's talk about something interesting, huh?"

There's laughter, some genuine, some sucking up to the boss. Everyone with a glass toasts. Well, when in Rome. I polish off my glass in one very long sip.

Blake does the same. Not like him. The real him anyway. He wipes a few drops from his face. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that he's nervous. But that could be an act, too.

He makes eye contact with me. Something passes between us—something real—but I can't place it. The flutter in me goes into full effect. Concentration, gone. I'll miss it.

"There's something I want to capture forever." He steps off the stage. "Something even better than Sterling Tech."

The crowd parts until it's a straight shot between Blake and me. Good thing his mic is cordless, because I can't move a muscle. He walks to me slowly. Someone takes his champagne glass out of his hand.

The expression in his eyes is pure love. He's a damn good actor.

He takes my hand and strokes my fingers. "Kat, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

Flutters, oh they're everywhere. My stupid body still hasn't gotten the message that this is all a lie. I nod like I know what's going on. His touch is so light on my hand. It's comforting even if it's bullshit.

"You make the happiest man alive." He drops to one knee.

Holy crap.

Blake pulls a ring box out of his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

He pulls it open, revealing an enormous diamond. It's a solitaire on a platinum band. Four carats, five maybe. Sleek, like everything else he owns.

The room goes quiet. Every ounce of attention is on us. I catch glances from his mother. Her mouth is hanging open, but there's no mistaking the joy on her face.

There's no mistaking my options.

I go for a big smile. I throw my hands over my mouth like I can't believe my luck. "Of course."

His eyes stay glued to mine. He slides the engagement ring over my finger and rises to his feet.

Blake leans into a kiss. Our lips meet and fireworks explode inside my body. Fake, fake, fake. All of this is fake! Everything except the ring.

Lights go off around us. Cameras and camera phones. Everyone wants to talk to us. Everyone has questions.

I'm engaged to Blake Sterling.

This is either the best decision I've ever made or the biggest mistake of my life.

To Be Continued...

Episode Two

Chapter Seven

The lights won't stop flashing. We're a spectacle. Juicy gossip. The reserved billionaire and his blushing bride. Oh, God, I'm the blushing bride. I'm blushing now. Hard to blame me with all of this attention. Any reasonable person would feel shy under the circumstances.

Of course, Blake is not a reasonable person. He shows no signs of shyness. No signs of anything except cool composure.

He waves at the crowd. "If you'll excuse me, my fiancée and I would like to be alone. To celebrate."

Some people laugh. A few cheer. Everyone knows celebrate is code for have crazy, hot, we-just-got-engaged sex. There's something provocative about the promise of a lifelong commitment.

Hell, I don't know. It's not like I've ever been in love.

But I've seen love. It's sweet, beautiful, and not at all like this big, fat lie.

A frown creeps onto my face. I wipe it away with my left hand. Damn, that is quite a rock. Tiffany's, probably. You get to know these things in a city obsessed with status.

It must have cost a fortune.

A drop in the bucket of Blake's fortune.

He grabs onto my waist. A little possessive, sure, but that part is for show. It must be.

The crowd parts for us again. It's parting for Blake, really. He has that effect on people. They bend to his will.

He pushes the doors open. Cool air rushes inside. Then I'm outside and all the air is cool. Not terribly cold. It's early spring. We're due for rain and cherry blossoms.

If we really were in love, we'd spend a long afternoon at the botanical gardens taking in the soft pink petals. We'd remark on the brevity of life, how lucky we are to have found each other. How lucky that it's the two of us against this crazy mixed up world.

My chest is tight. It's hard to breath. Not asthma, I know. I did all those breathing tests a million times. No, this tension is purely emotional.

I'm throwing away any chance I have to marry for love. I'm getting so much in exchange, but it still hurts. I can't believe how much it hurts. I've never thought of myself as a romantic.

A journalist, or a paparazzi maybe, shoves a microphone into my face. "Did this come as a surprise?"

My eyes go wide. I've never been shell-shocked before. I'm used to holding my own and responding calmly to anything, even people screaming in my face over something as trivial as their food having too much parsley.

I force myself to smile. "I'm very happy."

Another lie.

"Excuse us." Blake pushes past the reporter. Then past another reporter.

There are more flashes of cameras and camera phones. Don't people have enough manners to turn their damn flashes off? I lean closer to Blake, like I'm too shy for this. I am too shy for this, but the lie is getting all mixed up with the truth.

We step into a limo. The door shuts behind us, blocking out the sounds—the questions, the cheers, the screams I can't make out.

It's dark here. There are soft white lights but they're closer to decoration than to illumination. Thank goodness Blake has taste. This limo isn't some tacky thing with awful purple lighting. It's sleek, like everything else he owns.