The Rich Boy

by Scott, Kylie

  “I’m glad I’m here too. But you don’t have to tell me every day.”

  “Sure I do,” he says with a smile. “I’ve got a couple of things going on tomorrow morning that I can’t miss, but how about we go do something after? Just the two of us?”

  “Like a date?”

  “Absolutely like a date.”

  I grin. “I would love to.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  True to his word, we go to sleep together (after I’ve put on one of his T-shirts and some sensible cotton boy shorts underwear) and he wakes me before leaving for work. There’s nothing like waking up to a man in a suit handing you coffee and telling you he’s ordered pancakes.

  Quality level of life: nirvana.

  We need to make more of an effort to eat the food filling the fridge, though. I’m a little horrified at the waste. However, Beck is so used to picking up a phone and having everything done for him. Not worrying about cost, just convenience. It must have been beyond strange when he walked away from this life. Though he seems to have slotted back in just fine.

  But back to sleeping together. What with liking my own space, I wouldn’t have thought I’d be a cuddle bunny. Having woken a time or two during the night to find us all over each other proves differently, however. The first time, he had an arm thrown around me, and the second time, I had a leg thrown over him. Asleep me adores being with Beck. Though awake me still has a few concerns.

  I try not to worry, but wind up overthinking absolutely everything to do with our relationship while carrying out my new and enhanced makeup and hair routine. Today’s outfit is a pair of black Altuzarra wide-leg pants, a silk shirt, and a pair of Louboutin flats. Diamond stud earrings are accessory enough.

  My reflection dazzles back at me from the mirror. And I’m surprised to see it smiling. I guess if this finery is a burden I must endure, then I’ll just have to roll with it. I’m stoic like that.

  Though there can be too much of a good thing. A white gold and diamond Patek Philippe ladies’ watch has appeared in one of the glass cabinets in the walk-in closet. Now that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. Mysterious. Google informs me that it’s probably worth my firstborn child and possibly the second and half of the third as well. It can stay safely locked away. On the one hand, all of this is pretty and shiny and fun. But I don’t want my relationship with money to get warped with all of this excess. I don’t want to get too comfortable. It could all go away any minute and then where would I be? Broke and out of work with a Hermès handbag. Life these days is so strange and weird.

  While a couple of maids see to the apartment (one thing I do not mind getting used to though I still pick up after myself because hello manners), I head downstairs to see how the staffing situation is today in the bar before making any other plans or settling in with a book. A full complement of waiters are on duty so I’m not needed. However, they aren’t happy. This is due to the group of rowdy teenagers seated in the corner ordering alcoholic beverages. And the reason they’re being served is Beck’s little brother, Henry. The boy’s skin is pale and pasty, covered in sweat. This is not good. Other patrons, drinking their morning coffee, are likewise unimpressed with the scene and fair enough.

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “It’s not even ten in the morning. When they refused him service he went behind the bar to get the bottles himself,” says the guy beside me. He’s a handsome man with a short Afro, wearing a pinstripe suit with a silver tie. Mid-thirties at a guess. He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Lawrence. I’m Aaron Watson, general manager of the Heritage.”

  “Hi.” We shake hands. “Call me Alice.”

  “All right, then, Alice.”

  “How should we handle this?” I ask.

  His gaze registers surprise, but it’s swiftly covered by a friendly professional demeanor. “As much as I’d like to drag him out of here by the scruff of the neck, I’m supposed to contact Smith to come and deal with any situation. That’s how the family likes things done. Unless you have a better idea?”

  “Let me tr talking to Henry first.”

  “They’re a long way from sober. Do you think that’s wise?”

  “I’ve spent most of my working life dealing with people a long way from sober.” I shrug. “But if it all goes to hell, you can tell Beck it was my fault.”

  Aaron just smiles. There’s no way he should have to deal with a mess of the Elliots’ creating. But here we are.

  Henry and his three buddies are partying hard. One empty bottle and another half full sit on the table. Top shelf single malt, of course. Privileged little shits.

  And from the looks of the glasses, Henry’s been mixing it with cola. Expensive scotch and soda, that’s a hanging offense right there.

  “Party’s over, Henry,” I say with a smile. “Time to go, boys.”

  Henry, his face red, just laughs. “Hey, it’s Beck’s latest screw. Sorry. Girlfriend, I mean. How you doing? I’d introduce you, but, honest to God, I can’t remember your name. I mean, why bother learning them? None of you last for long.”

  His friends all chuckle like he’s a comedic genius. Drunken assholes are pretty much the same the world over. Age and money mean little once the booze hits your bloodstream.

  I pick up the bottle of scotch, passing it to Aaron.

  “Give it back,” growls Henry, slamming his hand down on the table. “Or I’ll have all of your asses fired.”

  “I don’t actually work here, so…not much of a threat.”

  “I own this fucking place. You and the other basics can leave now.”

  “Thing is, you don’t own me.” I smile. The trick with dealing with drunks is confidence. Act like you have total authority and some dark, drunken part of their brain starts to wonder if maybe you do. “You three, Henry’s friends, up and out.”

  His friends shoot him questioning looks. Henry’s cheekbones stand out in stark relief. “Gold-digging fucking bitch, you can’t tell us what to do! Go find a dick to suck. That’s the only thing you’re good for.”

  “Quick question, Henry. Why should I hesitate to call the cops? I mean, I could just call your grandmother, but I’m figuring this would be so much more memorable if you got your sorry asses dragged down to the lockup. And don’t think the same doesn’t go for all of your little friends.”

  Now they exchange nervous glances.

  “I neither know nor give a flying fuck who any of you are,” I say. “Get moving. Now.”

  There’s some muttered swearing and furious looks, but his three buddies eventually get to their feet and stomp out. Part of the problem dealt with, at least. Aaron gives the nod and a couple of security guys follow them. Hopefully they’ll get them home safely. I have enough on my plate just dealing with Beck’s little brother.

  Henry’s red eyes are furious.

  “Don’t make me call her,” I say quietly. “I’ve been on the receiving end of her bullshit. You know you don’t want that.”

  And no matter what a little shit he’s being right now, he has to be hurting. What with his father dying and everything. Change is hard. Some of the fight leaches out of him at this, making him more sullen teenager than anything. He gives me a resentful glare. “What are you going to do, then?”

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “Gone.”

  The hell? “Where?”

  He just shrugs.

  “Okay. So you and those three drank a bottle and a half between you?” I ask. “Hope you feel good now because you’re going to feel like hell soon enough.”

  “Like that’ll be a change.”

  Heavy sigh. “C’mon up to the apartment, Henry.”

  “Will you let me drink up there?” he asks, getting unsteadily to his feet. He’s tall like his brothers, but yet to fill out.

  “Not a chance. But I will let you lie on the couch, watch TV, drink some water, take some Advil, and sleep it off.”

  A shadow of fear or doubt crosses his face. “You won’t tell
Grandma?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” he decides. A hand goes to his stomach. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “I’m not surprised. Let’s go.”

  That’s when he throws up on me.

  Beck walks in a little after one p.m. with a vase full of red roses and greenery. “Honey, I’m home.”

  “Shh!”

  His brows draw tight as he inspects my lace bra. At least my bottom half is covered in blue jeans. He places the flowers on the kitchen counter. “We talked about you and your lingerie tempting me to sin.”

  “I’m not here to tempt you. I’m here to stop you from waking your little brother who’s passed out in the office. Please keep your voice down.”

  “Henry?” he asks, with a frown. “What’s he doing here? Especially what is he doing here with you only half dressed? That view is only for me.”

  “He threw up on me a couple of times, necessitating a wash and change, which I was halfway through when you arrived.” I gently close the office door on Henry’s drunken snoring. What a day. At least I got the worst of the mess off my shoes and the vomit-splattered clothes are soaking in one of the bathroom sinks. Hopefully the stains aren’t permanent. “Aaron sent up a rollaway and we put him in here. Hope you weren’t planning on working in the office for a while.”

  “I get the feeling I’m missing the beginning of this story.”

  “Okay,” I say, taking a breath. “So I went downstairs to see if they had enough waiters today and Henry along with some friends of his were having a liquid brunch. I frightened off his friends and got him up here. The end.”

  “They were drinking here in the hotel?” he says, voice tense.

  “None of your people served them. He went behind the bar himself and grabbed some bottles.”

  He turns away, his expression tight. The man is pissed. Guess it could’ve been a real public relations disaster for the family if someone had recorded the incident and posted it on social media. The mega-rich have a lot of perks, but anonymity isn’t one of them.

  “Anyway,” I say. “We got it under control.”

  He is not appeased. “Why didn’t you call Smith to deal with this?”

  “Who does Smith answer to?” I ask, hands on hips. “Your grandmother, right? The kid just lost his father and now his mom’s abandoned him too.”

  “Giada’s gone?”

  “Apparently. All of that would be enough to make anyone lose their shit, let alone a sixteen-year-old. So the last thing he needs is Catherine going off at him.”

  Beck says nothing.

  “I get that you want to kick his ass and I agree that he kind of deserves it.”

  “Kind of?”

  “But he reminds me of what you told me about when you were young and getting left on your own all of the time. That’s what he’s going through right now.”

  Slowly, he nods. “Fuck. You’re right. I still want to kick his ass, but you made the right choice.”

  I give him a smile.

  “Though I wish you’d called me. I would have been here sooner to help.” He slides his arms around my waist, drawing me in for a hug. “Thank you for looking after my little brother.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Next time call me, okay? Let me handle my family’s fuckery.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sorry he vomited on you.”

  “Not the first time it’s happened.” I shrug. “I’ll live. Are those flowers for me?”

  “They sure are.”

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “I had big plans for us,” he says. “Date night plans.”

  “We can’t just up and leave him like everyone else.”

  “No, we can’t.” He kisses my forehead, giving me a small smile. “You finish dressing. I’m going to make a couple of calls, find out what happened to his mom, et cetera.”

  “Okay.”

  By the time I finish fixing myself up and putting on a clean black T-shirt and Aquatalia knee-high boots (much more spew proof than flats), Beck is sitting on the couch staring off into the distance.

  “How’d it go?” I ask, getting comfortable beside him.

  “Giada is at a spa in Switzerland.”

  “So she did just take off and leave her teenage son with the staff?”

  “Yep.”

  Her losing her husband is awful. But to dump her child at a time like this to go get a facial…that I don’t understand.

  “They clearly can’t control him,” says Beck, slipping an arm around my shoulders. “He’s been off school for the past couple of weeks. Supposed to go back this weekend.”

  “He attends boarding school?”

  “Family tradition.” And he doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about this. “Guess I’ll try and talk to him. We used to be close, but he’s been pretty much giving me the silent treatment since I got back.”

  “What if it was a cry for help, his coming here, causing a scene?”

  “You’re sweet. But stunts like this aren’t exactly uncommon when it comes to Henry.” He does his usual thing, playing with my hair while he thinks. “One time when he was nine, Dad dumped him at Grandma’s while he and Giada went to Monaco. He put dishwashing detergent in the big fountain out front. There were bubbles going halfway down the drive. I’ve never seen Winston lose his shit like that. It was hilarious. On the other hand, last year at Thanksgiving he drank an eight-thousand-dollar bottle of wine through a straw and reversed a Ferrari into a tree. That was less funny. Little idiot could have been hurt. Or hurt someone.”

  “Negative attention is still a form of attention,” I recite. “I may have done a class on Intro to Psychology.”

  “Ah.”

  “We can’t just leave him on his own, getting into who knows what trouble.”

  He sighs. “No, we can’t.”

  “It’s only for a few days. He’s your brother. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “You’re awfully understanding for a girl who got thrown up on multiple times today.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, he behaved like a total ass downstairs. But I feel sorry for him. Plus, it’s not really the first time I’ve been thrown up on by a drunk. Occupational hazard.”

  The office door opens and Henry comes slouching out. “Oh. Hey.”

  “Take a seat.” Beck waves at the couch opposite us. “Time for us to have a nice little chat.”

  “Fuck that. I’m heading back to the mansion.” Not home, the mansion. And, boy, is that telling. I get the definite feeling he did not get enough hugs as a child. Which he still legally is. I’m not much of a hugger myself, being average in all things social (same goes for my mom so I guess that’s where I inherited it from). But knowing that you’re loved and wanted is still crucial. My parents always told my brother and me that we were gifts. Regardless of the various stupid shit we did and whether we were getting along with them at the time. Henry deserves nothing less than the same.

  “Sit your ass down,” says Beck, voice hardening.

  Henry just gives him the stink eye.

  “One call to Ethan gets all access to your trust fund cut off. The moment he has evidence that you are not using that money in your own best interests, he is legally bound as a fiduciary to prevent you from accessing it. Your choice.”

  His little brother glares back at him for a moment before slumping on the couch, doing the same rigid jaw thing Beck does when he’s angry. Also, the boy stinks of sweat and vomit. Ew.

  “If Grandma heard about you drinking and causing a scene in public with your friends so soon after Dad’s funeral, she’d lose her mind. Probably pack you off to one of those hard ass rehab centers in Idaho. A nice high security school for naughty rich troubled kids. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.”

  “Mom wouldn’t let her,” snaps Henry.

  “You sure about that?”

  Henry swallows, avoiding our eyes.

  “And we already covered how Ethan w
ould react.” Beck sets his ankle on his knee. “Of course, sooner or later, they’re both going to hear about the shit you pulled downstairs. So it’s not if, it’s when.”

  “So?”

  “I can deal with them for you. Keep them off your back. But, as is the way with everything in this family, it’s going to cost.”

  Henry’s gaze narrows. “What do you want?”

  “First up, you’ll apologize to Alice followed by Aaron and the staff downstairs. Secondly, you’ll stay here with us until it’s time to—”

  “I’m not sleeping on a fucking rollaway in your office.”

  “Sure you will,” says Beck, nice and calm. “It’ll be just like glamping and it’s only for a few days. Suck it up. Thirdly, when you do go back to school you’re going to be a model student. No more day drinking or any other bullshit. Am I understood?”

  “You’re not giving me much of a choice,” he grumps.

  “No. I’m not, Henry. Because in all honesty, I’m kind of upset with you right now.” Beck’s whole body vibrates with tension. “Let’s be honest, our dad was a pretty shitty parent, too busy to be bothered with us most of the time. But he’s gone now. Rules have changed. You come into my business, the place where I live and work, and you make this mess?”

  Henry’s laughter is harsh. “It’s always about the business with you assholes.”

  “If it was all about the business we wouldn’t even be talking. Your ass would already be on its way to Idaho or a nice fun military school, maybe.”

  Silence.

  “But you’re my brother and I love you. So here we are. You get one chance with me. Just the one,” says Beck. “You’re going to follow my three-step plan because you’re all out of options. There are no better alternatives for you than this. Do you understand?”

  Henry jerks his chin.

  “Go shower. You can borrow some of my clothes.”

  With a heavy sigh, Henry gets to his feet and pauses. “Sorry, Alice. About what I said downstairs and puking on you and all that.”

  I just nod.

  While the teenager slouches off into the bathroom off the main room, Beck turns to me with a quizzical look. “What did he say to you downstairs?”