The Billionaire's Duty: Secret Billionaire’s Club

by Tracey Pedersen

  What I wouldn’t give for a nap. But it’d be like sleeping with the enemy to nod off with her wide awake and glancing at me every few minutes.

  I can’t fail to notice, since I find myself looking at her, too.

  When I finish the project I’m working on and look up, she’s staring straight at me.

  Chapter Five - Jessa

  First class is amazing.

  Spectacular.

  Incredible.

  And every other adjective anyone can find in the dictionary. I want to stay awake every second, so I don’t miss anything. I might never experience this again, especially not for free, so I need to make the most of it.

  When the hostess offers me a second drink, I accept. My stomach protests but I dig around in my bag for a travel sickness tablet. I wash it down with the champagne, then turn my attention to the movie. My favourite actor is in this one, and it’s as good as I’ve heard. I laugh out loud several times, covering my mouth the last time. There’s only one person in first class I want to be a bother to and he’s pretending to ignore me. I’ve noticed that whenever I make a noise, or try a new discovery in my area, he shifts in his seat.

  Interesting.

  In the last hour I’ve tested my theory six times. Like clockwork his head raises a little, he squirms, sighs, and hunches his shoulders over his computer.

  My ability to influence him is almost funnier than the movie.

  When the hostess announces that our meal is ready to be served, he’s forced to put the gadget away and pull down his meal tray. In case he’s forgotten that I’m right here with him I say, “What did you order?”

  “Beef.”

  That’s it. He doesn’t ask me what I ordered. He doesn’t look at me. He stares straight ahead, his eyes trained on his empty screen. After a moment he sighs and turns it on. He sighs a lot.

  “I got lasagne.”

  I don’t know what I expect him to do, or even why I’m needling him, but when he turns in his seat with a mock adoring gaze, I have a fraction of a second when I think maybe this bulldog has bitten off more than she can chew.

  When he reaches his hand out and covers mine, I flinch. He giggles, a pretty good imitation of me earlier, and says, “Oh wow. Lasagne? That’s, like, my favourite.” My eyes bug as the billionaire next to me does a perfect imitation of a teenage girl. “Why didn’t we get the same thing? We could have been matching!” He throws his hands up and then leans his chin on his fist, batting his eyelashes a little like I did earlier to him.

  I’m so shocked that all I can do is stare. He pushes his lips into a raspberry. “Well?”

  “What do you mean, well? What the hell was that?”

  “I thought you wanted to be besties. I was playing my part, girlfriend.” He draws out the last word and it’s truly hysterical. As the laughter falls from my lips he turns back to his screen and begins scrolling through the movies. “If you’re not going to leave me alone, you might as well tell me what you’re watching that’s so funny.”

  “I’m watching the Cross Ronstein midday special.” He glares at me. “It’s on channel four. Funniest thing I’ve seen all week. Thanks for the laugh.”

  He’s silent again as the hostess serves our meal. My mouth waters when she sets mine in front of me. I try not to show how amazed I am that I have a real china plate and real cutlery. I’ve never had anything but plastic on a flight. I stop trying to be cool when bread rolls arrive in a basket, complete with linen cloth. My phone is soon snapping photos to show my brother when I get home. This will make such a great story.

  I savour the first bite and then realise I have an audience to my left. “What?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so happy over a meal.”

  I snicker. “Try yours. This is better than some meals I’ve had on the ground. I’ve heard first class was fantastic, but I never imagined it would live up to the hype. It seems like a colossal waste of money until you’re here enjoying it.”

  He watches me for a moment more then says, “True.”

  We eat in silence for a little while, then my stomach decides to make its presence felt. I look around for the hostess but she’s nowhere to be seen. “Um. Would you mind holding this?” I hold my tray toward out as I undo my seatbelt. “I have to go…” I nod my head, hoping he doesn’t make me spell it out.

  Thankfully, he takes my tray and watches as I walk to the toilet. I lock the door behind me and lean over the basin. My stomach does a flip flop and I stare into the mirror, tiny beads of sweat appearing on my skin. I splash water on my face and take deep breaths, trying to will myself to feel better. After a few minutes locked in the small space, I worry that another passenger might be waiting for the toilet, so I make my way back to my seat.

  My tray has been cleared, so I sit gingerly and pull my bag onto my lap.

  “I thought you might have been sucked out into the atmosphere.”

  I manage a smile as I search for more medication. “Like I said before, dream on.”

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t be that lucky.”

  I don’t feel much like sparring with him and that thought is reinforced when I discover the tablet I took earlier was the last one. I get up and rifle through my larger carry-on bag. I’m sure there are more travel sickness tablets in a side pocket left over from a trip I took ages ago. I remember seeing them when I threw my few items in before I left home. When I dig out the crushed package, I’m thrilled to see there are six left. I quickly down two of them and settle into my seat, trying not to think about the way the originally blue pills are now discoloured.

  “You okay?”

  I’m surprised by the question. A minute ago, my neighbour was wishing I’d been sucked out of the plane. He’s not looking at me, though, so he doesn’t really care.

  “I’ve felt better, honestly.” I pull the collar of my shirt away from my neck and direct the air vent toward my face. “Is it hot in here?”

  “No.” He frowns as I try to get comfortable. “Do not give your germs to me. I have a lot to get through this week.”

  “They’re not my germs. They’re baby germs.”

  “Either way. Keep them to yourself.”

  “Fine. It’s not like I’m sitting on your lap.” I recline my seat and close my eyes. “Tell me why you’re travelling.”

  I expect him to refuse, but again, he surprises me.

  “I donated some money to the building of a Memorial Day monument. My grandfather fought in Vietnam and he always spoke highly of the Americans he served alongside. A company I hope to do business with in the future was donating so we helped, too. That’s a very longwinded way of telling you I’m going to the dedication of a monument.”

  “So, it’s purely business. You get a foot in the door by giving them money?”

  “That makes it sound a bit mercenary. I promised my dad that I’d do something to remember his father. This seemed like an excellent way to do that, even if it took me a long time to get it done.”

  “Your dad is…” I don’t say the words. I don’t even know how the conversation has taken a personal turn, or why he’s still sharing. He must know that everything he tells me will be stored away for future use. That I only asked him about his trip to try and catch him out.

  “He died a few years ago. A scuba diving accident.”

  “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s shaking his head. “The memorial will be a nice tribute and it’s for a good cause. I’m glad I could come.”

  “That’s why you couldn’t cancel.”

  “Exactly. I have an obligation.”

  Chapter Six - Cross

  The faint sound of snoring leaves me thrilled to enjoy some quiet time. I don’t know how she went from chatting with her eyes closed to being passed out, but I’ll take the reprieve. Maybe I’ll get some work done on this flight after all.

  I spend an hour clearing my backlog of email, make s
ome last minute changes to my speech for the Memorial Day presentation, then put my computer away. The cabin lights have been dimmed but instead of resting, I put my headphones on and restart the movie Ms Bulldog suggested. It is funny, I can’t deny, and I enjoy it along with a cold beer as people move quietly around the cabin and then get ready to sleep.

  As the credits roll on the screen and I pull my headphones off, my neighbour suddenly sits upright and then stumbles down the aisle to the bathroom. I frown. That’s her third visit since she moved into first class. She really better not have something we can all catch.

  More than ten minutes pass before she returns and when she does it’s obvious she’s not well.

  Serves her right for barging onto my flight to accuse me of things I haven’t done.

  That’s my first thought, but it’s hard to keep up a mean front when she collapses into her seat. The hostess is by her side before I can say anything.

  “Are you okay ma’am?”

  “Yes, I think so. It’s travel sickness, nothing else. I can never tell if I’ll get it or not. I guess today is a yes day.”

  The hostess frowns before she leans forward. “How about you recline your seat and get a few hours sleep? Do you want to get changed?”

  Ms. Collins offers a weak smile even as her words make the hostess laugh. “After all that clarification over laundry, I don’t think I have the energy. It will be one of the regrets of my life that I slept in my own clothes in first class.”

  There’s a rustling as she turns on her side. “Want to share my travel sickness pills? I think they’ve turned into cocaine while they’ve been inside that packet.”

  My laughter draws the attention of another passenger who scowls at me. I apologise and recline my seat, rolling on my side to watch the fading-fast woman beside me. “I’ve avoided hard drugs my whole life, despite much temptation, so that’s a hard no from me.” She smiles and her eyes close. “Besides. I wouldn’t want to deny you a peaceful sleep. You look really unwell.”

  “I feel awful. I’d face away if I were you. Apologies in advance if I’m sick and it gets on you.”

  “That’s gross. I hope you’re joking.”

  “I hope I am too.” She nods off, her breathing becoming more regular. I close my eyes for a moment and then she says, “Don’t let them drag me off the plane when we land. I don’t have swine-flu or anything. This is how I am when I get motion sickness.”

  Ten hours later those fateful words mean a lot more.

  Everyone in the cabin is preparing for landing, except for Jessa. She’s in the toilet again, no doubt bringing up the small amount of breakfast she managed to eat. When she woke, she was fragile, holding her head and speaking quietly to me. She woke up like a different person, making no mention of anything to do with business, quietly asking me when we’d land and if I thought there would be turbulence. I’ve seen a glimmer of the woman she could be away from work, and it’s nice.

  She’s nice.

  A moment later she collapses into her chair, and right after that the hostess appears at her elbow.

  “Ms. Collins, we think you might need to see a doctor when we land.”

  “Oh, no. I’m fine. The moment I’m on solid ground I’ll start to get better.”

  “Are you sure? The pilot has offered to radio ahead to get you medical assistance.”

  “Really?” Jessa’s face turns red. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bother. I–”

  “You haven’t at all. We just want to make sure you’re in good hands.”

  “Thanks so much, but truly I’ll be fine.”

  The hostess remains, uncertainty in her stance. Jessa looks up at her, and then at me, as though I’m supposed to do something.

  “How about we go through immigration together? Then if you feel unwell I can let someone know.”

  The hostess brightens immediately. She has no way of knowing that I’m dying inside. I’ve just saddled myself with extra baggage. Baggage that is bound to turn on me the moment she recovers.

  Chapter Seven - Jessa

  When I wake up it’s immediately clear I’m not where I’m supposed to be. My eyes fly open and I lift the heavy covers and let out a deep sigh.

  Still wearing my clothes!

  Once I’m satisfied no one undressed me without my permission, I take a second to appreciate the comfort of the enormous bed. I wiggle into the whisper soft mattress and sigh again. It’s like a warm nest of a million feathers with wings wrapped around me keeping me safe. It may be the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. When I’m done luxuriating, I open my eyes and stare around the unfamiliar room.

  What is this place?

  I sit up and rub my eyes. If this is a hotel, it’s the biggest hotel room I’ve ever seen. Several feet from the end of my bed there’s an enormous flat screen television hanging from the ceiling. Yes, hanging. Like, on gold chains. Behind that there’s a sitting room with four chairs, a table, and huge built-in cupboards covering the entire width of the wall. I can see my suitcase beside one of those chairs and my handbag on the table. The handbag that should contain my phone.

  I can call someone. Let them know I’m alive.

  I slide the covers back and move to the side of the bed. It takes some effort, since I was stretched out in the middle of what must be a king sized mattress. My feet sink into plush carpet and I frown as I wiggle my toes.

  Fancy.

  I tiptoe across the room, almost laughing—this soft carpet isn’t likely to transmit a sound. I dig in my bag for my phone and relief floods through me when I find it exactly where it should be. I turn it on and go straight to my brother’s number. I push the button to dial and creep across the room to a closed door near the bed. There’s static on the line and I’d seriously consider hanging up if this wasn’t important. My plans to buy a sim card at the airport evaporated when I got sick on the plane, which means this call is going to cost me a small fortune.

  Oh, well. Better that than kidnapped and missing.

  I turn the door handle, careful to maintain my stealth. The phone rings and rings and I cringe at how loud it seems in the silence of this cavernous room. I’ve made an educated guess that this is the bathroom, and the door on the other side of the sitting room leads either to a corridor, or into an area where whoever brought me here is waiting. I push the door slightly, then straighten and step through, mesmerised as I am by the twinkling city lights shining through the window of a bathroom bigger than my whole bedroom back home.

  Wow. I don’t know where I am, but it’s damn luxurious. But how is it night when we landed in the early afternoon?

  Jasper answers in a sleepy voice, “Hello?” There’s a shuffling sound and he says, “Jessa?”

  “It’s me,” I whisper.

  “Jessa? Why are you calling at,” there’s another pause, then he continues, “two in the morning?”

  “I need you to do the phone finder thing,” I hiss.

  I swing around and feel for the light switch. It’s not next to the door but I find it above the wash basin on the opposite wall. I flick the switch and gasp as a bank of overhead lights springs to life. I have no words for Jasper as I stare around the bathroom.

  Everywhere I see luxury.

  The walls. The triple basin. The floor. The shower. Even the huge bath with the gold taps is made of marble. Anything that’s not made from the pale stone is mirrored, giving the effect of rooms tucked behind rooms. There’s an intricate mandala pattern across the floor, made from tiny pieces of darker marble.

  Jasper’s words penetrate my brain, just as I spot an electronic tablet mounted on the edge of the bathtub. Who uses a tablet in the bath?

  “Where are you? What’s wrong?”

  I can’t bring myself to raise my voice. “Find me on the map and you tell me. I need to know before I go outside.”

  “Tell me where you are.” My brother is wide awake now and I hear the sleepy voice of his girlfriend, Mimi, asking if everything is okay.

&n
bsp; “I don’t know where I am. I’m in the biggest, most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen in my life, but it could be a hotel or an apartment. Or a prison. I have no idea.”

  “How did you get there?”

  “Look me up on your phone while I tell you. I don’t know how long I have before he comes back.” My whisper has taken on an urgent tone that I can’t control. Unfortunately, it sends Jasper into overdrive and I cringe as his shouts come through the phone.

  “Before who comes back? What the hell have you gotten yourself into now?”

  I open my mouth to respond but then Mimi’s soothing voice is on the line. “Jessa, we’re looking it up right now, okay? I’m putting you on speaker. Jasper, calm down. Shouting will not fix anything.” Jasper’s voice drops and then I can hear them both. “Okay, Jasper’s using my phone to check. Now, how did you get there?”

  “I don’t remember. I was sick on the plane. Oh God, so sick. The guy I sat with helped me off and got me through immigration. Then I took more of those travel sickness tablets—you know, the ones we bought in Egypt last year—after that it’s a blur.”

  “Who was the guy?”

  “Cross Ronstein. The man I’m investigating.”

  “You sat with the guy you’re investigating? And he drugged you?” Jasper’s voice rises again. “What the fuck, Jessa!”

  “Here, give me the phone.” Mimi’s voice is calm and I’m so grateful. I’ll have to remember to throw her an awesome hen’s night when she marries my brother. “The finder says you’re in LA. In Beverley Hills, but it doesn’t show a hotel name on the map. I’ll send you a photo. Do you have internet?”

  “Yeah, but it’s my Australian connection. Send the one pic and make it count. I’m scared to imagine the bill I’m getting when I get home.”

  “Fuck the bill. What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going to take a shower. I feel gross.”

  Jasper sounds like he’s choking. “A shower? Are you insane? You have to get out of there.”