Finding Cupid (Almost a Billionaire Book 2)

by Bridget E. Baker

  I shake my head. “I’d love to, I really would, but I’ve got a meeting almost the second we land, and I’ve got a lot of reading to do first.”

  She leans back in her chair. “You’re just chicken. It’s easy to be the winner when you’ve only played me once. But I could snatch that crown from your head any time. I’m the underdog now, and everyone cheers for the underdog.”

  I lean forward, my eyes never leaving hers. “I am a little scared, but not about chess.” Then I move closer, my mouth nearly meeting hers. “You’re not like anyone else I know.” I kiss her then, our lips pressed close as the plane takes off.

  I can’t tell whether my stomach’s lurching from the take-off or the feeling of her lips against mine. The feeling of her hair against my palm. I deepen the kiss, and slide my hand deeper into her hair, pulling her toward me until a tiny sigh escapes Geo’s mouth. My hand trails down her neck to the space between her collar bone and throat, stroking her silky skin once. Twice. This time her sigh isn’t small.

  Ivy clears her throat.

  Our drinks, right. She doesn’t bother hiding her smirk when she hands me the coke. “Be careful you don’t make a mess with that on this flight,” she says.

  I scowl at her and she giggles. No respect.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” Geo says when Ivy’s gone.

  I shake my head. “I’ll never be embarrassed about kissing you.”

  She blushes again and I wonder whether I could snap a photo of her adorable blushing face without freaking her out. Maybe if I install a security camera on the plane? No, that’s too far. Like Macaroni Grill far.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be reading?” she asks.

  Right. “Yes, thanks. I really do need to finish preparing for this meeting. Brekka’s counting on me to be her man on the ground, and I’ve got a few more calculations to review.”

  She grins and I almost forget why being prepared matters and lean toward her again. Geo breaks eye contact and picks up her laptop, so I do as well, reluctantly.

  We’re on the ground, waiting to deplane, when I notice an urgent text. From my mom.

  I’M IN SAN FRAN. BREKKA SAYS YOU ARE TOO. DINNER. 7 PM. SORREL.

  I groan. Why would Brekka tell her I was headed for San Fran?

  I text back. CAN’T GET TO PACIFIC HEIGHTS THEN. TOO FAR.

  FINE. She replies. 9 PM.

  I sigh. Two mothers in one day. I wish mine would lose her memory. Guilt immediately follows that though, but in so many ways it would improve my life.

  SEE YOU THEN.

  TABLE FOR TWO OR THREE? She asks.

  I nearly drop my phone. My fingers fly as I text Brekka.

  WHY IS MOM ASKING ME IF I WANT A TABLE FOR TWO OR THREE?

  SHE MIGHT KNOW ABOUT GEO…

  I’m going to kill Brekka.

  IT’S NOT MY FAULT. SHE SAW A PHOTO OF YOU TWO KISSING AT VAIL. HOW’D THAT GET OUT?

  It had to be Natalie and her insane obsession with social media fame. I groan.

  “Everything okay?” Geo asks.

  “Just normal business hiccups,” I lie.

  “I know zero about business, but would it help to talk about any of it?”

  Would it help for me to talk to her about my mother planning to grill me? Sure, like bubble gum would help with a root canal. “No, I don’t think so, but thanks.”

  She shrugs and I hunch back over my phone to press Brekka for more info. WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?

  Mom texts again. INTERROGATING YOUR SISTER NOW?

  I grit my teeth.

  Brekka finally replies. I TOLD HER YOU’RE DATING A WONDERFUL GIRL, AND THAT I LOVED HER. I GUESS MAYBE I SHOULDN’T HAVE ADMITTED TO MEETING HER BECAUSE SHE CALLED ME WITH EVEN MORE QUESTIONS. SORRY.

  I close my eyes. This couldn’t be worse. Mom’s more obsessive than the tabloids when it comes to my love life. Or lack thereof. Only, unlike all those movies where the moms want grandkids, my mom’s always telling me not to settle, not to worry about it, and that I have loads of time.

  Maybe I should have clicked on that dossier after all, because there’s no chance Mom’s not reading one as we speak.

  TABLE FOR TWO MOM. NO WAY YOU’RE GETTING ANYWHERE NEAR GEO. WE FLY OUT IN THE MORNING.

  I’M NOT SURE WHETHER I’M GLAD YOU DON’T WANT TO INTRODUCE HER TO ME, OR OFFENDED YOU’RE HIDING HER.

  I roll my eyes. Classic Mom.

  TAKE YOUR PICK. SEE YOU AT 9.

  “I’ve got an Uber lined up to take me to the spa,” Geo says.

  I try not to breathe a sigh of relief. I’m due at my first meeting in half an hour. It’s already going to be tight with Bay area traffic. “Well, you’re self sufficient, aren’t you?”

  “We can’t all be billionaires,” she says with one cocked eyebrow. “We little people have to learn to get by without chauffeurs and private jets.”

  She may think I don’t live in the real world, but when I lean over to kiss her, she leans toward me and wraps one arm around my back. It’s hard to pull away and head in opposite directions, but I force myself.

  “I’ve got meetings until really late tonight,” I say.

  “I’ll see you in the morning then,” she says.

  I nod.

  “Your assistant sent me booking info on the Hyatt.”

  “Perfect,” I say. “I was thinking if we leave really early tomorrow, like six-ish, we should get to Kauai around 2 pm. We’d have time to hang out a little before my first appointment, which is supposed to be a dinner meeting.”

  “I’ll be ready to go by five a.m. then?”

  “Sounds good. Steal a pillow or two and you can sleep on the flight.”

  She lifts one eyebrow. “You don’t have pillows on your fancy jet?”

  I shrug. “I do, but they’re kind of hard and flat. I complain a lot, but never remember to replace them.”

  “You poor little rich kid, with no one to take care of you. I’ll bring two tomorrow morning.” She winks and again, I wish I could keep that image forever.

  I set the photo of the two of us as my lock screen, and smile every time I see it during the meetings.

  By the time I finish, it’s nearly eight p.m. already. I lean back in my chair and stretch, wishing I could head back to the hotel and pull Geo into my arms. I do not want to go fight with my mother.

  But, ever the dutiful son, I go.

  Mom’s early, already tapping her red soled Louboutin against the marble floor when I walk inside. Her sheath dress hugs her curves a little tighter than I’d think a sixty year old woman would want, but Mom’s always been at the height of fashion and I grudgingly admit that she’s fit enough to pull it off.

  She spends most of the winter in San Francisco every year. She hates the snow of Colorado, but abhors the ‘infestation of spray tanning and implants’ that infects LA. That keeps her from truly going south. Mom loves Sorrel, and they love her, too. She’s chatting with the hostess when I arrive.

  “No, she says, “I think that color brings out your eyes, dear. Truly.”

  The hostess is wearing a white button down shirt, so I have no idea what color she possibly be talking about. Even on pain of a hot poker, I’d never ask.

  “Oh, Mr. Thornton’s here,” The hostess coos at me. “Could I get you anything from the bar, sir? We’re so happy to have you here with us again.”

  I roll my eyes at Mom, because she only tries to shove hostesses and the like at me when I’m dating someone else.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” I stomp behind the hostess, who keeps swaying her hips and glancing back at me. I hope she doesn’t trip and break her foot, but that’s probably the only way she’d get more than ten seconds of my attention. I don’t bother pointing out that she has red lipstick on her teeth.

  When the hostess walks off, Mom tsks in disapproval. “You didn’t have to be so rude to her, Bernard. She’s a lovely girl, you know.”

  “Why did you want to meet, Mom? It’s late, and I’m not even hungry.�
� Not anymore, anyway.

  She reaches over and places her hand over mine. Which she only does when she wants something. I think about Geo’s mom and soften a little. At least she knows my name, and she did teach me a lot of the things I know about business. I owe a lot of my own success to her.

  “You’re my son. I missed your handsome face.”

  “I’ll send you a photo so you don’t have to drag me all the way across town next time.” I text her the photo from that morning with Geo. “Or did you already have a photo that looks something like this?”

  Mom picks up her phone, and glances down. She sniffs. “Well, she looks better detached from your face, at least.”

  She can’t possibly have anything negative to say about Geo’s looks. I lift my eyebrows in a silent dare to try.

  “I didn’t realize you liked your women to have eyes that resemble characters from anime cartoons, or I’d have been looking for that all along.”

  I should never have doubted her. There’s no one my mom can’t criticize. If Geo were here, I’d shut that down, but it’s not worth engaging with her while we’re alone. “Mom, can you get to the point?”

  “There wasn’t any one point,” she says. “But I did need to discuss the details of the Free Fall merger with you. Your father’s useless, as you know.”

  She orders my food for me like I’m ten years old, forcing me to eat duck, which she knows I hate. “It really is the most flavorful of all poultry.” She always tells me that. “One day you’ll realize that.”

  I doubt it, but I have to pick my battles with Mom.

  She spends the next hour discussing the merger she’s handling, which I’m mostly up to speed on thanks to her weekly emails on the Thornton trust assets. I help her make a few decisions, but we could have done all of this on the phone. I don’t argue or pick any fights with her, which takes some real discipline on my part. Mom loves a good fight, and she’s obviously spoiling for one.

  She voices her unsought opinion on the tech company I met with today, telling me I’m undervaluing their largest asset. She’s a brilliant businesswoman and I should be listening, but I’m so annoyed it strengthens my resolve to pass.

  She suggests I buy a vacation property from one of her bridge club friends in Miami, even though she knows I hate the insane colors and complete melee of that city. I don’t express interest in the house, but I agree with her that the stone crab in Miami is phenomenal. She clicks her tongue more and more often as she grows increasingly annoyed at my refusal to argue. Over anything.

  Finally, when the waiter brings us dessert, I’m sick of pretending she brought me here for business reasons.

  “Brekka told me you called her about Geode. I’m in San Francisco with her now, and I’m taking her to Hawaii tomorrow. I like this girl Mom, and I don’t need any advice from you, or any warnings either. I’m thirty-four years old, so maybe have a little faith in my ability to make decisions on my own.”

  Mom’s lips compress and I realize I’ve thrown down a gauntlet here. Which surprises me a little, since I have no plans to ever propose to Geo. Quite the contrary, I’m just trying to help her. I’ll open her back up again so she can take risks and then I’ll bow out. I’m not even going to sleep with her, since that would make things harder for her. What did Geo say? I’m saintly? I’m like the saint of nearly widowed women.

  I like the sound of that. Saint Bernard. Crap. Maybe not.

  The point is, Mom has nothing to worry about. So why am I taking such a hard stance with her? Maybe I’m secretly spoiling for a fight too.

  “You know nothing about her,” she says.

  “I’m sure you could send me an extensive file.” I cross my arms.

  She feigns shock. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Cut the crap, Mom. Tell me what you want to tell me so I can go back to the hotel where Geo’s waiting for me.” I don’t bother mentioning we’re not sharing a room. Let my mom choke on her concerns with no idea how far along we actually are.

  Mom reaches into her huge purse and pulls out a thick stack of paper. “The Thornton Trust Prenuptial Agreement,” she says. “You should have a copy. So you’re prepared.”

  I recoil. “What are you talking about?”

  She slides it across the table toward me. “You don’t want to take her by surprise. I’d suggest you leave it out somewhere she can find it. Maybe on a desk or at the top of your luggage.”

  “Hold on. Are you enouraging me to propose to her?”

  Her head shake is so small I can barely see it. “I never wanted this for you. In fact, marrying is my biggest regret of the life I’ve chosen. You and Brekka don’t really have a hope of being happy in marriage with your dad and I as your role models. But I know it’s hopeless to fight with you about it. I always pushed against any girl you liked and until today, you’ve never pushed back.”

  What does that mean?

  “The material point is that you’re just like me. You’re going to do what you want no matter what I think, and if you’re serious, I want to give you the best chance of success.”

  “I’ve never even considered marrying thanks to you,” I say. “You and Dad broke us, me and Brekka both. We’d have to be blind and stupid to want anything resembling what you have.”

  She flinches, but holds her head high. “I don’t expect you to understand the decisions I’ve made, or acknowledge the sacrifices. The world has changed in the last forty years, and women have opportunities now they never had back when I was young. Maybe today I’d make a better decision. Maybe I did the best I could with the options presented. Besides, when I met your father, he wasn’t—” she chokes and dabs at her mouth with her napkin. “The point is, this will be much easier if your, err, if Geode is prepared. She needs to know what she’s getting into.”

  I take the stack, knowing Mom won’t relent until I do.

  “I sent you an e-copy as well, in case something happens to this one.”

  I sigh. “Mom, I have no idea why you even think this is serious, but you’ve been misinformed.”

  She frowns. “Brekka’s my source. She told me this girl is different and she hears wedding bells.”

  My jaw drops. “She didn’t.”

  Mom nods.

  “Did she mention that I barely know Geo?”

  Mom narrows her eyes at me. “Sometimes love hits like a lightning strike.”

  “You knew dad for years.”

  She nods. “Your dad and I were a slow burn that eventually went out. But not all fires burn the same. And even infernos die down eventually.” My mom leans toward me, her eyes bright. “Don’t forget, son. You may like her face or her body. You may even like some of the things she says and does, or how she makes you feel, but marriage shouldn’t be about love or lust, not for us. It’s a contract that will impact you for a long time. Be smart about this. You offer marriage and if she takes that ring, she’s accepted that offer. We aren’t like normal people. We don’t have the luxury of wandering around and making declarations and decisions without the proper thought. The only good reason for you to marry is to create an heir for this family, and unless that’s your reasoning, unless you think her genetic code will produce a smart, capable child who could properly run this family in fifty years, then don’t propose.”

  I stand up then. “You’ve fallen into some kind of delusional time warp, Mom. You said things have changed in forty years, but you’re talking like it’s 1757. I’m not Lord Wattingham, required to produce a male heir for our entailed estate.”

  She stands too. “Laugh if you want, but I’m serious. Children are the only real reason to marry. The only reason to propose now is that she’ll have too much leverage once she’s pregnant. Make her sign this first, and don’t worry. There’s an escape hatch if she’s barren.”

  I don’t swear. I don’t argue. I simply turn on my heel and walk out. I don’t even realize I have the stupid prenup in my bag until I’ve reached my car.

  I drive a little t
oo fast on the way to the hotel, but I don’t call Brekka and wake her up to yell at her, or tell her how insane our mother really is. I’m proud of my restraint.

  The hotel clerk hands me a keycard, and mentions my room number. And the room number for my guest. Two doors down.

  I take the elevator up to the eighteenth floor and exit, bag slung over my shoulder. I open the door to my room and toss my bag inside. I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes to midnight. Five a.m. departure time. I’m sure Geo’s asleep, but for some reason my feet walk down the hall anyway.

  I look at her door, room 1817.

  I lift my hand to knock, but pull up short, my hand suspended in the air. I close my eyes. I want her to open the door in nothing but a night shirt. I want to pull her close to me, and forget myself in her smell, in her lips, in her eyes. I want her to erase my mom’s talk of heirs and prenups. I want to sink into the sight and smell of Geo and forget about the rest of the world.

  But I think about the prenup anyway. The document that destroyed my parents. My mom must have loved my dad at some point. My dad clearly loved my mom at the beginning. But Mom wanted to build an empire, and Dad was wired to spend, spend, spend. Mom stayed with him because she couldn’t leave him, not without losing what really mattered to her.

  I wonder for the first time in my life how my dad felt, knowing Mom stayed with him for his money, not for him. He knew she’d leave him in a second if she could keep running the company he only owned thanks to luck and some words on important papers.

  I wonder how my mom felt when my dad brought his girlfriend to company parties. I drop my hand and turn around. My mom’s a workaholic, a power-hungry, manipulative lunatic. But she might be right. Why would I ever propose to anyone, knowing they’d need to sign a prenup, which would send me down the same path of misery I’ve already witnessed firsthand?

  I head back to my room, but I don’t sleep well that night. I toss and turn, haunted by blue eyes and prenup clauses, with a voiceover of my mother’s laughter.

  15

  Geo

  My eyes burn the next morning when my alarm goes off, but I pop up anyway. I’ve wanted to go to Hawaii for more than ten years. I can’t believe I’m going today. In a private jet. It feels a little surreal, actually.