Romance: Two Nights with the Billionaire (3 page)

Chapter 6

“I’m sorry I was so grouchy this morning.” His deep voice sounds gruff and tired but also familiar. There is the warmth that was missing when he’d called to tell me he wouldn’t be home.

“It’s okay,” I reply.

I was lying in bed, just contemplating either going to sleep or putting a movie on, when my phone buzzed and Joshua’s image appeared on the little screen.

“No it isn’t,” he says. “You had every right to be upset. You’re just as important to me as these stupid business meetings.”

“Is that a compliment?”

He chuckles and I swear I feel it vibrate through me. “It was meant to be. I get grouchy because I feel guilty about leaving you so much. I want to be with you all the time. That’s not an excuse though.”

“Not much of a compliment.”

He sighs. “Why do you put up with me?”

I don’t answer his question, but the thought of his dominance in bed goes through my head.

“You don’t have to go to that party tomorrow if you don’t want to,” he says. “It was selfish of me to make you feel obligated like that.”

“Too late,” I reply. “I’ve already brought the perfect dress.”

“I wish I could see you in it.”

“Me too.”

“Actually, I wish I could see you without it on.” His voice smiles.

Our conversations always turn to sex. It’s like that’s all we have left.

“Tell me about your day,” I state to him, directing the conversation away from our desires.

“You wouldn’t want to hear about it. It’s been really boring meeting after really boring meeting. A lot of old men talking about how to make more money.”

“Come on, something interesting had to have happened. What did you have for lunch?”

“Lunch?” he ponders the thought for a while. “Lunch was a quick break for a steak in between meetings.”

I giggle.

His dietitian ordered him to have more protein at lunch so that he could maintain his ripped physique.

His discipline and determination always impresses me.

I wish I could be that controlled.

“Is Natasha with you?”

Damn.

Why did I ask that question?

“Yes… she is my secretary, Jennifer. She works for me.”

Damn.

I knew I shouldn’t have asked that question. Now I sound like a whining girlfriend.

I’m not that person.

At least, I never used to be.

“So what are you wearing now?” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone and I nibble my lip as I sink back onto the pillows.

The conversation has turned back to sex and that is where we are most comfortable…

Chapter 7

The next day I arrive at Grace’s estate at around one o’clock. I’m still buzzing from my phone conversation with Joshua last night. We talked for over an hour, ending with a toe-curling session of phone sex.

I arrive feeling confident and even a little excited.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party. Once all the tension of not knowing anyone disappeared, I started wondering if my earlier sadness was caused not so much by Joshua’s absence but by my own loneliness.

I haven’t really socialized much since selling my business, but that’s not Joshua’s fault. He never stopped me from going out or seeing friends – that was all me.

Today that’s all going to change.

I stride up the steps to the enormous front doors and ring the bell.

I can hear the live orchestra filtering through from what I know is a breathtaking garden. Even if I don’t really know anyone, I do know that the food will be mouthwatering and the music will be incredible.

I will enjoy this party.

My mantra ends suddenly when a dour-looking housekeeper swings the door open.

My first impression is that she looks like an angry vulture.

Her mouth is tight and pursed, her nose is long and thin and her eyes peer out at me as though I’d arrived at midnight, in the middle of a storm, looking for shelter.

“Hello?” she says and just stands there in the doorway.

“Um, hi,” I say back.

Is there a code word I should have used or a secret knock?

“I’m here for the garden party?” It comes out as a question and I hate how I can feel myself shrinking back.

“Do you have an invitation?”

I just look at her.

Are you actually kidding?

For a split second I consider simply turning and walking away.

To hell with these snooty assholes!

“Jennifer!” The loud squawk comes from somewhere behind the vulture and she moves aside.

Grace is smiling and practically jittering on her feet.

Like always, I feel myself shrinking slightly in her presence.

She’s beautiful, not in the warm, welcoming way like Nicole, but in a stunning, breathtaking way that sometimes seems almost inhuman.

Or maybe I’m just a little jealous.

Her silky black hair falls just past her shoulders in luscious waves, framing her perfect porcelain doll face, and when she smiles I have to stifle a gasp.

She walks right by the housekeeper as though the older woman’s not there and then looks over my shoulder before looking at me.

“But where’s Joshua?” she asks.

“He couldn’t make it,” I reply.

“And you came anyway? All alone?” She squints at me and almost frowns but it’s gone in the next second, seamlessly replaced by a radiant smile.

“Happy birthday,” I say and even manage a bright smile as I say it.

“Thank you.” She giggles.

She takes both my hands then pulls me into a perfumed hug before kissing both my cheeks.

“Come in, I must introduce you to everyone. They are all dying to meet Joshua’s new girlfriend. But you must promise to come find me if you get lonely.”

I nod and smile and tell myself that she’s honestly trying to be nice, she’s just… different from my friends.

She leads me by the hand out into the garden and it’s even more spectacular than I imagined.

A string quartet play familiar music that I can’t quite recognize and beneath a wide decorative marquee, there are tables and chairs and the biggest buffet table I’ve ever seen, loaded with literal mountains of fresh fruit, desserts, salad, and roast meat.

Grace’s gardens are huge. I’ve only seen them once before, but it was at night. During the day the roses and multitudes of other colorful flowers create a stunning effect and the grounds themselves are lush and green.

It is picture perfect. 

Actually, I have never seen a picture this perfect.

“Lucy!” Grace squeals and pulls me towards a small circle of men and women about our age. I recognize a few of them from other parties.

“You must meet Joshua’s new girlfriend.”

I’m not new. It’s been a couple of years now.

And I am also more than just a girlfriend!

But I don’t say that, I just smile as she introduces me to her friends.

“How did you two meet?” a girl named Karla asks.

But before I can speak Grace gasps and slaps a hand to her chest as though she might swoon. “It’s a wonderful story. Jennifer was a underprivileged programmer when she met our Joshua. Right away they knew that despite their differences in station, they were meant to be.”

I grit my teeth but still manage a smile.

“It was like a fairy tale,” I say and hope nobody grasps my sarcastic tone.

This goes on for about an hour.

Perfect Grace leads me from circle to circle, telling my rags to riches story over and over.

I tell myself she’s trying to make me feel welcome but every time I hear her version of the story, I feel more and more excluded.

It’s like she’s introducing me as merely an honorary member of their exclusive club, which I guess I am. I could never fit in here. These people have grown up with a lot of money – I could never pretend to understand their problems.

I’m about to extricate myself and plead for a bathroom break when we join a small circle of three older women and a man about my age.

He’s well-dressed, but his unshaven chin and slightly mussed hair separates him from the rest.

Grace introduces me, and immediately slips into my tale of woe and good fortune. By this point I’m not even really listening any more, just smiling politely.

Maybe I should get a little hat so I can dance while she plays her music.

The younger man suddenly snickers but covers it quickly with a cough before excusing himself.

Was he laughing at me?

Is that what I am here?

A joke that everyone’s sharing, only I don’t get it?

One of the older women, the one with the big hat and slim-line black-and-white dress, leans closer to Grace and says, “I hope you don’t mind me bringing my nephew, Damon. He spends time in our society so rarely these days.” She lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “He’s an artist. His father had great dreams of the boy taking over the family business. The one consolation is that my poor brother-in-law has passed. He’d be so disappointed.”

I excuse myself from the conversation and even manage to do it without glaring at the older woman.

Grace makes me promise, in an almost obnoxiously loud voice, to come find her if I have no one to talk to, and to my credit I even manage to kiss her cheek and wish her happy birthday again before I almost run to the bathroom.

Behind the closed door I run my hands under the cool water and just breathe, staring into my own eyes in the mirror.

“You can do this, Jen,” I say to myself. “Just a couple more hours. Eat some of that amazing food, let them talk at you and remind you just how much you don’t belong, then you can go home. But be nice. Be nice.”

My phone vibrates in my leather clutch and I pull it out to find a text from Joshua.

How’s the party?

I look at it for a while.

How do I answer that?

It’s awful. I hate it here?

Your friends are all assholes and I want to go home?

I consider my response for a long time before finally hitting reply.

I wish you were here. I miss you.

His reply comes moments later.

Miss you too.

I look in the mirror again.

Maybe I’m not one of them.

Maybe I don’t fit in with these people.

But Joshua wants me.

He believes I belong here and that’s all that matters.

Doesn’t it?

His opinion is all I care about.

“If I’m going to survive the next few hours, I need to drink.”

Chapter 8

Feeling better, I make a beeline for the open bar, grab a stool and put down roots. A gorgeous man wearing only scandalously tight leather pants and a bow tie gives me a wide, toothy grin.

“What can I do for you?” he asks in that way that implies he’s not talking about serving drinks, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Vodka and lemon?”

He gives me a wink then spins away, grabs an expensive-looking bottle off the shelf, and starts mixing.

It’s hypnotic, like watching him dance.

No doubt that’s the reason Grace hired him.

He slides the drink over with a flourish and I thank him, feeling a very girlish giggle bubbling up when he winks again and flashes me his white-toothed grin.

I’m relieved when he moves off to serve someone else. I’m too old for giggling and crushes. And besides, I have a boyfriend!

Just as I take a sip of the most perfect vodka and lemon of my life, I look up to see Damon taking the stool beside me.

“Hey,” he says, shooting me with a finger gun. “It’s Cinderella!”

I make a face at him. “And you must be the unfortunate artist.”

He puts a hand over his chest and mocks a broken heart, making me laugh.

“For the record, I’m a director.”

My eyes widen. “Anything I might have seen?”

He sighs dramatically. “Probably not. When I say I’m a director, I mean aspiring director. I mainly do short films and a few ads.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere. You never know which creation will be the one that catches on.”

“Everyone in my family is driven by success and money. That’s all they care about. But directing is more than that for me. It is about creating something to entertain others.”

I nod. “Spoken like a true artist.”

“An unsuccessful one, at least.” He smiles.

“As long as you’re doing what you love.” I take another sip of my drink. “That’s all that really matters in the end. As long as you feel like you are gaining something out of it and you’re not just doing it to impress others.”

He nods in agreement and fixes me with a more inquiring gaze. “So, a programmer?”

“Well, yeah, that’s how I made money, but I was mainly an app designer.”

“Was?”

I tell him about the app I designed and its crazy success and eventual sale.

I’m surprised to feel a lump forming in my throat when I get to the part where the contract stated that I couldn’t work in app design for another three years.

“Really!” He gapes at me. “I know that app. I use it all the time. And you made those other ones…” He scratches his chin as though remembering. “The workout apps for like running and biking through the post-apocalyptic worlds.”

“Guilty,” I reply and feel a flush of pride at the awe in his expression.

“So what are you doing now?”

My momentary high sinks back into my feet.

I’m suddenly feeling trapped by his attention.

Seconds ago he thought I was someone interesting. How do I tell him I’ve been doing nothing whatsoever for the last six months?

“Well I… I’ve been sort of just taking a break,” I say.

I’ve been sitting on my butt waiting for my absent boyfriend to have time to play with me.

Wait.

Is that what I’ve been doing?

The thought came out of nowhere but it makes sense. Before I can brood further Damon is talking again.

“Three years – no contest agreement. That’s got to suck.”

The words are so correct that I laugh out loud, slapping a hand over my mouth.

“Yeah. That says it all,” I reply.

“I don’t know if I could do it. I don’t know if I could give away doing what I love just for an amount of money.”

“It was good business sense,” I defend my decision.

“According to who?”

Suddenly it all spills out.

I can’t stop the words – they’re just all coming like they’ve been sitting just behind my consciousness, waiting for someone to notice them.

It’s like a dam breaking.

I tell him about my passion for creating interfaces that connect people to my creations but also to each other, and I tell him about the nothingness that was left when I signed that contract.

At the time, it wasn’t even a choice.

It was just good business.

Signing the contract meant I never had to work again if I didn’t want to.

But who am I if I’m not doing what I love, if I’m not following my passion?

Damon listens, and it’s like he really understands what I’m saying.

He tells me about his father wanting him to go to law school and take over the family firm. He talks about how he went there but it felt like it wasn’t him.

“I realized that it didn’t matter what other people want me to do or what I ‘should’ do. Sitting in lectures, listening to people talk about things that I didn’t care about, it made me feel dead inside.”

“I know that feeling well,” I whisper.

“One lecture, when they were talking some old case that set a precedent back in 1895, I knew it was over. I knew that I couldn’t do it anymore. I knew I had to follow my heart and do what I loved.”

I feel such a strong connection with Damon.

And it’s not like the connection I feel with Joshua.

With Joshua, our connection is woven thick with longing and sexual chemistry.

With Damon, it’s a connection I’ve never shared with anyone besides Nicole.

I can’t help noticing the way he and the sexy bar man exchange a knowing smile and when he looks back at me, he brings a finger to his lips.  I nod to let him know that his secret is safe with me.

“I’m going to give you something,” he says and pulls a card out of his wallet and writes on the back.

Is he asking me out?

“My friend Carmen owns an up-and-coming game company and they’re looking for good people. It’s small but they have some interesting ideas, and Carmen knows what she’s doing.”

I’m about to interrupt but he waves me off.

“It’s console – not mobile or tablets – so it won’t break your contract. You might find the new medium a challenging shift but...” He gives me a knowing smile. “I don’t think that will be a problem for you.”

He holds the card up and flips it expertly between his fingers to show his photo and details on the front and then he hands it to me.

A sneaky way to give me his phone number…