by Imani King
“Hello?” I wasn’t ready to feel his name on my lips.
“Hi Chelsea, it’s me Blaize. Are you okay? Did you get my message? Did you watch me on The Johnny Allen Show?”
“I got your message and I watched the show, but I am definitely NOT okay.”
I tried desperately to keep the tears out of my voice, but I knew he could hear them mixed in with my anger.
“I was afraid of that. Rolande said you’d be mad, even after you heard the truth of what happened.”
“You need your fucking agent to tell you that I’d be mad?! Really Blaize?!”
“I’m sorry Chelsea, I really am. But I’m not entirely sure what you want from me, or exactly what’s got you this upset. Do you think it’s just baby hormones?”
“Oh my god! Baby hormones?! You’re an idiot!!”
“Now now, name-calling never solved anything. If you’ll just calm down, I’m sure we can discuss this whole thing rationally. What is it that has you so upset with me? Whatever it is, I’m certain I can fix it.”
“That’s just it Blaize. I don’t think you can. It’s just you…. It’s just how you are and how you probably always will be.”
“What do you mean, Chelsea? How am I, exactly?”
“Blaize, you’re larger than life! You don’t even seem to realize it. Things that are normal to you are not normal to me. You think getting beat up, kissed by a strange woman, thrown in jail, and then laughing about it on TV is normal! I’m on the other side of the country worrying myself sick. Is that NORMAL?”
“You’ve been worried sick? Even though you got my message saying I was okay?”
“Of course! What do you think seeing your mugshot did to me? Seeing your injured face? Wondering for hours what happened, and having to learn the details from a talk show? And then, you were so smug and casual about the whole thing, making it seem like a joke? For what? Laughs? I don’t get it. It wasn’t the least bit funny to me! I can’t live like this!”
“Chelsea, I had no idea what I put you through. I can’t apologize enough for that… But I couldn’t stand idly by while a man laid his hands on a woman… And if you want to know why I made light of it, you’re forgetting that I’m in the entertainment industry. That bar fight story will probably sell more of my books than if I’d spent my TV appearance trying to promote them.”
“You don’t need negative publicity Blaize!”
“There’s no such thing as negative publicity!”
“For you there is! You’re supposed to be ‘staying out of trouble’, according to your visa agreement. How is being incarcerated for fighting ‘staying out of trouble’? I’m starting to believe it really does follow you.”
“I’ve gotten a lot better since I met you, Chelsea. You can ask Rolande. He is constantly saying he can’t believe how much I’ve changed these last couple of months.”
“Apparently not enough to lose your title of International Playboy!”
“That’s a hard persona to shake. And unless I miss my mark, you fell in love with that International Playboy…”
“Well maybe I made a mistake. I don’t think I want a pretend marriage to an asshole, delinquent, idiot playboy!”
“I think we both need some time to cool off before we say things we’ll regret. I’ll see you in a few days Chelsea. Good-night.”
I hung up and looked over at Tiffany. She was pretending to read her novel, but the book was upside down.
“I guess I told him…….”
Tiffany turned a couple of pages, not realizing I was on to her obvious ruse.
“Huh? Did you? I wouldn’t know because I wasn’t listening…..……….Asshole, delinquent, idiot playboy? Whew! Maybe you were a little hard on him… He did stop an act of domestic violence…”
“And maybe I’ll get over it… But he’d better come home with one hell of a big apology bouquet.”
35
Blaize
Rolande poured us each a glass of scotch rocks from the in-suite wet bar.
“That sounded brutal, Blaize.”
“I seriously fucked up this time, Rolande. I can’t believe what a giant ass I am! You were right on the nose about Chelsea being angry with me. She is positively livid. I had no idea you knew so much about women, you little shit.”
“Sometimes I even surprise myself. What are you going to do now?”
“We still have a few more cities to do. I guess I’ll just have to wait to talk to her when I get back to L.A. Serious discussions shouldn’t be done over the phone. It sounds like she’s not willing to go through with the marriage contract. She said she doesn’t even want to pretend she’s married to an asshole like me…”
“Wow! That’s a low blow all right.”
“Evidently she was worried sick over this. I had no idea she would take things so hard. No woman has ever cared that much about me before. They’re usually only concerned about losing my money.”
“But you know Chelsea isn’t like that. Besides, she’s elevated you up to an even higher level now. You’re supposed to be the father of her child… That comes with certain responsibilities.”
“I’m trying to be responsible! I want to marry this woman and I want to have this family!”
“Blaize, are you even listening to yourself? If you want this girl, you need to fight for her. Prove it. Stop pissing and moaning about it and show her how you really feel!”
“Fuck Rolande! You just might be right again! Tomorrow morning we put in our flight plan. I want to be back on the West coast.”
“You still have three more engagements here in New York…”
“And none of them will matter if I don’t have Chelsea.”
“Sweet dreams Blaize, you lovesick sap………”
“Sweet dreams, you beautiful bald asskisser.”
I woke in the morning with an ache in my heart. The fight with Chelsea had disturbed my sleep. Staying single had been so much easier! Relationship problems were something I had never truly experienced before.
Rolande and I had a lunch meeting scheduled at the Park Central Hotel, but he canceled them all. With Chelsea ignoring my calls, we decided to relax in the room until my plane was ready. I was contemplating the fascinating stains on the ceiling when Rolande’s phone buzzed with a text message.
“I wonder what this is about?”
“Is Tiffany busting your balls too?”
“No. Her message is kind of vague. It just says she and Chelsea are on their way to UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica, but not to worry, she’ll keep me posted.”
I sprang up off the couch and grabbed Rolande’s phone out of his hands.
“What?!! Is Chelsea okay?”
I immediately dialed Tiffany on Rolande’s phone and got no answer. Then I dialed Chelsea and it went to voicemail.
“Fucking phones! Rolande, call the airport and tell them we’re on our way.”
“Your plane won’t be ready for hours… I’m not even sure they’ve fueled it up yet.”
“Then find me a flight out immediately. I don’t care if I have to ride with the damn baggage, we’re going to Santa Monica.”
“Tiffany said there’s nothing to worry about, Blaize… There’s no need to jump the gun…”
“Rolande, please just do as I say. I can’t sit over here on the other side of the country wondering if Chelsea and the baby are okay.”
We rushed to the airport, and with the promise of a very hefty bribe, Rolande managed to cut my private jet to the front of the refueling line. I was thankful that we wouldn’t be flying coach back across the country. Despite the speed with which we were in the air, the plane just couldn’t fly fast enough for me. I found myself cursing the earth’s gravity, and wishing I’d spent the extra million on the slightly faster gulf stream…
On landing, we took a cab from LAX to the medical center. I figured nobody could get us there faster than a city cab driver could. They were some of the most aggressive drivers in the world, and I paid him handsomely
to make our trip a rapid one.
Meanwhile, I was going absolutely crazy trying to get ahold of someone at the hospital. On the line, the nurses repeatedly claimed that they had no patients by the names of Chelsea Dixon or Tiffany Simpson. Worse yet, neither of them were answering my numerous calls and texts.
And things didn’t get any better the hospital itself… At the admissions counter, we grilled the administrator to the point of her threatening to call security on us.
“Look, I already told you two; nobody checked in under either of those names today.”
“Please check again! Under Chelsea Dixon or Tiffany Simpson! Or perhaps she checked herself in under my last name… We are getting married… Check for Chelsea Simon?”
“I’m sorry, but there is no Chelsea Dixon, Simon, or any other damn name you care to shout at me. Now if you would please step aside, we have pa…”
A nurse walking by cut her off with a little tap on the counter. She turned and looked my way.
“Excuse me, but did you say Chelsea Dixon?”
“Yes nurse! Do you know where I can find her please?”
“Yes sir, I do..………Susan, I’ll take these gentlemen up to Miss Dixon. I just finished speaking with her.”
We followed the nurse, but she didn’t seem in a terribly big hurry and our slow trip through the hospital was infuriating.
“Is everything okay nurse?”
“I’ll let you talk to her, sir.”
We trailed closely behind the dismissive woman as she led us up to the third floor.
“Nurse, I think you must be mistaken. This appears to be the geriatrics wing.”
“Yes sir. Here we are, room 303. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Rolande and I followed the nurse in and did a double take. Willie Dixon was lying in the hospital bed with Chelsea sitting on one side of him and Tiffany on the other. He was fully awake and laughing up a storm with the girls. I couldn’t decide whether to be pissed or relieved.
Tiffany let out a little squeal of shock.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“When Rolande got Tiff’s text message, I thought… The baby….”
The room went silent, and Chelsea was looking at me like I’d just let the cat out of the bag. Willie’s pulse monitor started beeping loudly.
“I’m sorry daddy… I was going to tell you,” Chelsea said quietly, tears filling her eyes.
Willie spoke up. “I was flying down here to tell you to drop this damn fool. Bar fights, kissing other ladies, you’re worth more than this man could ever offer you. You don’t need his money. And now you tell me I’m gonna be a grandpa?”
“If I may… I wasn’t kissing that woman…”
“No need to be defending yourself. Chelsea explained it. I still think you’re a damn fool if you think you can just buy my daughter. And now you got me all riled up and I’m in the damn hospital again. My VA insurance isn’t gonna cover this…..”
“Daddy, I told you not to worry about it. I’ll pay for it.”
“With money from that damned contract? I won’t accept it,” Willie replied.
“Well I’m glad to hear that… Because you won’t have to. The deal is off and I’m tearing up the contract,” I said, watching as Chelsea looked up at me with those big beautiful eyes. She seemed equal parts confused an angry.
“What do you mean?” Chelsea whispered.
“Chelsea, I know the marriage contract goes against your ethics. I don’t want you to marry me for money or to extend my visa.”
“You don’t?”
I took Chelsea’s sweet hand and knelt at her feet.
“Chelsea Dixon, I want you to marry me for real. Because I love you and I want to be your real husband. I can be a better man for you. I can be a father… Not some damn international playboy… With your permission of course, Mr. Dixon.”
“I’ll give it the okay, but if you hurt my daughter again, no hospital is going to stop me from kicking your ass…”
“With your one good leg, I know! Believe me, the thought haunts my every dream!” I replied, smiling. “I promise that will never happen as long as I live…”
Chelsea finally spoke up. “Oh Blaize! Yes, of course I’ll marry you…..”
Mr. Dixon smiled up at us from the bed.
Tiffany laughed out loud. “I just thought of something funny! Our pretty little pastry chef has a sweet bun in her oven! HA!”
A smiling doctor entered the room and interrupted the laughter with more good news.
“Mr. Dixon, all the tests that we ran today show absolutely no sign of a coronary event. You have a clean bill of health. We’ll be discharging you in a few hours.”
“But doctor, what do you think caused my dad’s chest pains?”
“We couldn’t find anything other than gas!”
“I think they’re trying to say you’re full of hot air daddy,” Chelsea said, starting up another little round of laughter.
Epilogue
Chelsea - One Year Later
Tiffany and I waited patiently in line at Madame Babette’s cheese counter. She was still our favorite vendor at our favorite Parisian street market. When we got to the front, she instantly recognized us and gave us a big, warm welcoming hug.
“Chelsea! Tiffany! Bonjour! How are you my sweet girls?! What can I get for you two today? ”
Tiffany jumped right in with our order.
“We sure have missed you Madame Babette! We would like one of your scrumptious Camembert cheese wheels please. But make it a large one. We have a couple of extra mouths to feed.” We pointed to the three men lazily sitting under a nearby shade tree: Blaize, Rolande and daddy. They all waved at Madame.
“What? Is that a little baby I see over there?”
“It sure is Madame! That’s my daughter, Marie.”
Blaize snuggled her tightly in his large daddy arms.
“She looks like a real beauty! Oh mon dieu! Is that the famous Blaize Simon holding her?”
“Yes, he’s my husband. My perfect husband.”
“So you are the American he married at sea, Chelsea?”
Tiffany chimed in: “Yep she’s the one! They were married on a yacht and I was her Maid of Honor, Madame.”
“And what about you Miss Tiffany? Any luck in the husband department?”
“See that cute little bald guy, next to Blaize Simon?”
“Oui. He is your boyfriend? ”
“He’s my fiancé! We’re getting married next month at Blaize and Chelsea’s villa. Hey, will you come to my wedding Madame Babette?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world Tiffany!”
Madame wrapped up our cheese and shook her head in wonder.
“My how things can change in only one year! So I guess I will be seeing you more again, since you’re married to a Frenchman, Chelsea?”
“Tiffany and I will be visiting you a lot, Madame Babette. We have dual citizenship now. We have pastry shops in both countries that we need to run!”
We hugged her and waved. “Au revoir Madame!”
Our guys got up and brushed the grass off their pants when they saw us heading their way. Blaize lovingly tucked Marie into her carriage and wheeled it onto the sidewalk while Rolande pushed pop’s wheelchair. Tiffany and I followed them, blissfully eating chunks of Camembert cheese, as we strolled arm-in-arm along the Seine River toward our very own Petite Boutique De Chocolat.
* * *
The end… But I have one little surprise for my amazing readers! Turn the page for a FREE copy of my bestselling novel, My Secret Billionaire!
Volume One
My Secret Billionaire
By Imani King
My Secret Billionaire is a full standalone BWWM Romance Novel with a happy-ever-after and NO CLIFFHANGER!
She didn't know who I was. It was better that way. But she unknowingly forced me out from the dark...
Sierra Simmons is proud, capable, and ready to leave her mark on the world
. Graduating valedictorian, she's willing to work her way up and carve out her name in the journalism world. When a surprise internship with the biggest station around falls into her lap, she's given her first major opportunity: an off the books chance to blow the lid on a dangerous website that caters to the sexual needs of the rich and famous.
Blaine Winguard, bachelor billionaire extraordinaire, leaves a string of sexual conquests in his wake. But there's one person who can stop him in his tracks – naive, oblivious Sierra Simmons. When it seems she’s closed the latest door he's opened for her, he has to know why. With secrets buried deep in his heart, he'll have to finally step into her life, risking events that will change their lives – and their hearts – forever.
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1
Sierra
* * *
Eager for a distraction while I waited on my terrifying job interview, I snatched up the top issue of a nearby stack of tabloids – and it wasn’t any surprise who was dominating half the front page.
Blaine Winguard.
Of course I knew who he was. Everyone did.
Blaine Winguard was the most strikingly handsome billionaire in the entire Northeast. A known flirt, big-shot film producer, and effortless seducer, he was notorious for three things: his fantastic wealth, an endless string of high-profile sexual conquests, and a penchant for strange, downright peculiar behavior. He might be the most eligible bachelor around, but he was sure as hell the most eccentric, too.
From the looks of things, Blaine was embroiled in some antic again. Apparently, the billionaire playboy had been caught by the paparazzi in the back of a secluded black sedan with Sophia Pains, a starry-eyed upcoming supermodel. While there were only a few usable photos snapped in the ensuing chaos, they were given all the page space they needed.
