Girl Meets Billionaire

by Aubrey, Brenna

  “I don’t have the whole story, I take it. Why do you need the money?”

  I stiffened. “Why should I tell you? So you can use it against me?”

  Those midnight eyes were hard. Stern. I lifted my chin, staring him down. Did I have any choice but to go along with his decisions? I let out a slow breath.

  His gaze didn’t waver as he watched me intently. “You thought you were the one in control. Now you’re realizing that’s no longer the case.”

  I exhaled suddenly, as if he’d just punched me. “I was never in control, was I? You just let me think I was. I’ve always considered myself a smart person—smart enough to get a scholarship and get the grades for medical school, but I’m not a prodigy genius and I’m not going to exhaust myself trying to outthink you. Am I just some little toy to play with until you get bored again?”

  He blinked, his arms tensed. “No.”

  “Because that’s your problem, you know. You’re bored. You’re empty. All you do is work. You surround yourself with every costly toy imaginable and keep people at a distance. Does anyone love you? Do you love anyone?”

  I don’t know if it was my imagination, but he seemed to grow a shade paler. He shifted his weight and ran a hand through his dark hair. But I turned and ran back to my room. I didn’t want to do this anymore.

  He caught me just outside the door to my room, wrapped his hand around my upper arm and pulled me around to face him.

  His mouth found mine and though I was still angry, I let him kiss me. His arms came around me and pulled me tight against him. When we came apart, his breath was harsh and his voice was dark, husky. “One more night, Emilia.”

  I said nothing, looking into his eyes. I put my hands up to push away from him and he tightened his grip on my waist. “Please.”

  I took a deep breath. “I need something—some kind of—we can’t just keep doing this.”

  He tipped his head down to rest his forehead against mine. His eyes squeezed tight and then opened again. My throat tightened at the determination in his eyes. “One more night. I’ll transfer half the money to you on Monday.”

  I shivered. When I spoke, it was with a shaky voice. “Okay…” I hesitated. “If you still want me.”

  He slowly released me, stepping back. He took a deep breath, his right hand closing into a fist. “Were you in any doubt until I stopped it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then don’t allow yourself to think otherwise. I want you. Very much.”

  My heart thudded in my throat. He wanted me—for one night. And then what? For the first time since entering into this entire sordid scheme, I was beginning to think I’d made a very, very bad decision. With my strict rules, my frenzied grasps at control, I’d boxed myself into an impossible situation, because my feelings for him were starting to grow too big for just one night. Just one more night.

  He stepped forward to land a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Good night.” Then he turned down the hallway and disappeared into his quarters.

  It hurt to breathe. And exhausted, I dropped onto my bed, curled into a ball and slept.

  The next morning, when I woke, we were safely docked at the slip on Bay Island, nestled against Adam’s house. We had a brief, understated breakfast sitting in his kitchen, snacking on fresh fruit and warm crepes prepared by Chef.

  He glanced at me several times but I remained mostly quiet, still feeling awkward and completely in the dark about what had happened between us the night before.

  “Do you have plans for later?” he finally said.

  I shrugged. “Apparently I’m at your disposal.”

  “No, I mean for dinner. Just dinner.”

  “Tonight?”

  I thought for a moment. I didn’t have to be back at work until tomorrow’s late shift. I hadn’t had a chance to call Heath back, but I could take care of that this afternoon.

  “I have to work on my blog posts for the week.”

  “It’s just for a few hours.”

  I sighed. “Not if I have to spend an hour or two getting ready.”

  “Oh, no, it’s not that kind of dinner. It’s a family thing at my uncle’s house. Barbecue.” I shot a glance at him out of the corners of my eyes. A family thing? Had I heard that right? Suddenly that old beast, curiosity, seized me by the throat and wouldn’t let go.

  “Okay.”

  He drove me home and, as always, walked me to the door, carrying my bag. I entered and noticed a sudden movement near my couch. Startled, I screamed.

  Adam darted inside past me, pushing me behind him.

  “What the—” Heath jerked up from the couch to a standing position. “Fuck. Way to scare the shit out of me.”

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief and then started laughing. “Heath, what are you doing here?”

  “You vanished. I came over here to try to track you down.”

  Heath and Adam exchanged manly nods of greeting. “Drake.”

  “Bowman.”

  Heath turned back to me with the strangest look on his face. “You been gone all weekend?”

  I glanced at Adam. “More or less.”

  “Ah. Okay.”

  Adam shifted, obviously sensing the awkward moment. “I’ll get going, then.” He turned and landed a kiss on my cheek, handing me my bag. “See you at six.”

  Heath stared at the door with narrowed eyes and an open mouth for almost a minute after Adam shut the door.

  I began. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your message. When I got in on Friday night it was too late to call and then I totally forgot on Saturday morning because I woke up late and was busy running around getting ready.”

  Heath, still staring at the door, shook his head and blinked. “Mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

  I dropped my bag on a nearby chair and moved over to the fridge in the corner of the studio that served as a teeny tiny kitchen. “Want some water? I think I have a Dr. Pepper.”

  “I’m fine. I bought a coffee on the way over here. I know better than to come over here and expect anything to be in the fridge.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Heath’s face fell. “Because I was fucking worried. Your mom keeps calling me because she can’t get a hold of you and it’s driving me bananas and what the fuck is going on between you and Drake?”

  My head spun—all of that had shot out of his mouth in less than ten seconds and I was still trying to process it. “I have a new cell phone. I don’t have any numbers punched into it.” I pulled it out and handed it to him. “Can you put your number in there? And I’ll call you so you’ll have—”

  “Where’d you get this? This is the brand new Galaxy. People are on waiting lists for these.”

  “Adam gave it to me.”

  Heath shot me a pointed look, then focused on putting his number into the phone. Then he dialed the number, letting it ring his cell once and hanging up.

  “So are you two banging yet or what?”

  I took the phone back from him, pressing my lips together. “Or what.”

  “What’s his deal? Can’t he get it up? You spent the entire weekend with him and he didn’t get busy?”

  I took a deep breath. “Friday we couldn’t. The boat wasn’t there. So we went on an overnight trip last night and…”

  “And?”

  “And nothing.”

  “Shit. I knew he was gay.”

  “What? No…no, he’s not gay.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m not going to go into details. I just know.”

  “Then what?”

  “Things just keep getting in the way and then last night…” I unscrewed the cap from the bottle of water and took a long sip.

  “What happened last night?”

  “We spent the day together—had a terrific time. And yesterday before dinner we were talking in the Jacuzzi. He asked me about what happened to me in high school.”

  Heath’s frowned. “How much did you tell him?”

&nb
sp; I shrugged. “Everything. It was easier to tell him than I thought. It just all came out.”

  “Okay, so what does that have to do with not—” Then his face flushed and he grimaced. “Oh, I get it. He doesn’t want to touch you now because you’re damaged goods?”

  “What? No. No. I think it freaked him out for the opposite reason. He said he wasn’t sure I was ready. He said he wouldn’t forgive himself if I freaked out about it.”

  “Are you sure he’s not just procrastinating? Maybe it’s an excuse not to pay you.”

  I shrugged. “I really don’t think that’s it. I just don’t know.”

  Heath shook his head. “Are you two dating or something? He’s picking you up at six?”

  “It’s a family barbecue.”

  Heath cursed.

  “What?” I said.

  “He’s playing you, Mia. This was a deal for one night. Now he’s treating you like his own personal call girl.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not true. We haven’t—”

  “You haven’t fucked. But you’ve done other stuff,” Heath said. “You don’t even have to tell me that. I know.”

  I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. He hasn’t even…”

  Heath shrugged. “There are all kinds. Maybe he gets off on denying himself.”

  “Shut up, Heath. Stop trying to make this all sound sick.”

  “Girl, it started out sick. It’s just getting worse.”

  I plunked down at my kitchen table and Heath’s eyes flew to the shiny new laptop. He waved a hand toward it. “New phone. New computer. A fancy overnight stay on a yacht. What’s next? A car? What’s he buying with all these expensive gifts? He wants something. He wants more than one night.”

  I rubbed my forehead. I felt so stupid at this moment, unable to figure out what the simplest things meant. Was Adam using me? For what? I couldn’t get the vision of that expression on his face out of my mind—right after he’d stopped himself and pulled away. He’d looked so disgusted.

  “You picked him out, Heath. You said he was the best choice.”

  “I wasn’t lying. He was. But this whole thing started out in bizarro world and took a sharp left turn into fucked-up land fast.”

  I shook my head, no snarky reply forthcoming. I must have been off my game.

  After staring through me for a few tense minutes, Heath finally blew out a breath. “Listen, you are a big girl. I love you, but I can’t stand by and watch you get yourself fucked by this guy—in more ways than the intended one.”

  I couldn’t breathe, suddenly close to tears. “Heath, why are you being so hurtful?” Heath’s words were only confirming my worst fears. Adam was using me. Adam wanted something from me. Adam would discard me like garbage once he was done with me. Just like the Biological Sperm Donor had done with my mother. Because they were all the same.

  “Because I’m worried about you. You aren’t actually developing feelings for him, are you? A guy like that will chew you up and spit you out.”

  I looked into Heath’s eyes and shook my head. “I have to take my chances, Heath.”

  Heath spread his hands out wide. “Fine. You don’t have to listen to me. But I’m not fielding your mother’s calls anymore. You handle it. Handle it all. I’m out.”

  And with a disgusted wave of his arm, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

  I might have laid my head down and cried. I sure felt like it. But I didn’t. I logged on to the game instead and took out about two dozen orcs, checking at least a dozen times to see if my friends FallenOne or Persephone were on. Fallen hadn’t logged into the game since the day we had chatted, weeks ago. I sent him a quick e-mail, asking how he was and when he was going to come back, then started working on an article for my blog.

  Heath’s words repeated themselves over and over in my head and I could hardly concentrate on all the things I had to do. Was Adam playing me? For what reason? Was what we were doing truly sick? I couldn’t answer. Every time I thought about Adam, strange feelings rose up in my chest and threatened to crowd everything else out. It made it hard to think, hard to breathe.

  With a shuddering sigh, I moved around that apartment like a mindless robot, getting the things I needed done before dressing in a pair of white capris and a pale blue T-shirt for the barbecue.

  Once again, Adam was prompt when he came to pick me up to take me to his uncle’s house. He opened the door for me and I settled into the vintage leather seats of his Porsche.

  His uncle lived in the next city over from mine, Tustin, near the rolling hills that swept toward the canyons in OC’s backcountry. The homes here were nice. Not mansions like in Newport, but upper-middle-class homes with established but not wealthy inhabitants. And it was in the long white driveway of one of these that Adam parked his car.

  We were hardly out of the car before two young boys—no older than six or eight—came racing out of the house. “Adam!” they shouted, clearly excited.

  Adam bent and scooped up each one in a muscular arm, pulling them off the ground. “Holy crap!” he said with an exaggerated groan. “You two are getting heavy.”

  “Put me down!” one of them said. I pegged him to be a few years older than his brother, as he was slightly bigger. Other than that, it was difficult to tell them apart. They had similar features and their hair was the exact same color. “DJ, I get to drive first!”

  But the younger one had caught sight of me and tried to squirm out of Adam’s hold, his eyes widening and jaw dropping. “Adam brought a girl,” he said in clear disbelief.

  I laughed—I couldn’t help it—especially when Adam rolled his eyes, dropping both the boys and putting his hands on their heads. “These two knuckleheads are Gareth and Dylan—we call him DJ. They’re my cousin Britt’s kids.”

  DJ was still staring at me in wonder and approached me while his brother Gareth hopped into Adam’s car and started making pretend motor noises while tugging at the steering wheel. “Hi,” he said with a cheeky smile. “You’re pretty.”

  “Well, thank you,” I said, laughing.

  “Are you Adam’s girlfriend?”

  “Uhh,” I said with a glance at Adam, who seemed more amused than embarrassed.

  “Stop putting the moves on Emilia, DJ.”

  DJ turned to his cousin. “Why’d you bring a girl? You never bring girls.”

  “I’m sorry? Did you forget your cootie spray?” Adam said.

  Soon, Adam was ushering me inside, leaving his cousins out in the driveway to pretend-drive the car with the strict instructions that they were not to touch the gearshift or the emergency brake. Clearly he trusted them, and that this was all the supervision they needed. I could hardly believe he’d let those kids fiddle around in that car, which was clearly worth a fortune.

  “Don’t worry. They get bored with it after about ten minutes,” he said.

  In quick succession, I was introduced to four more people, all full-sized. The first two were Britt, Adam’s cousin, and Rik, her husband—the parents of the two out in the front.

  After initial introductions I thanked Britt for teaching Adam how to dance. “He taught me the foxtrot and blamed it on you,” I said with a grin and Britt shot an amused look at Adam.

  “All that bitching and yet he still remembers all the dances—and is using them to impress the ladies. Why am I not surprised?”

  “Hey, I was bitching about the arm twisting—I mean literally.” Adam turned to me. “She’d sit on me and twist my arm up behind my back until I agreed to be her partner.”

  Britt snorted. “Let’s just say that I weighed a bit more than Adam back in those days.”

  I couldn’t help giggling at the mental picture.

  Next, Adam introduced me to his uncle, Peter Drake, a tall, thin and soft-spoken man. He wore a silly barbecue apron with writing on it that said, “I’m grilling the witness.” Adam’s Uncle Peter must have been tipped off that I was coming because he showed absolutely no surprise that I was
there.

  “Welcome,” he said. “How do you like your steak?”

  “Medium well,” I said. And he shuffled out the back door with a plate of raw meat.

  Adam was called away to make a phone call—no surprise. He worked even on Sunday during a family dinner. I had no idea how long he would be, so I wandered off to see what kind of trouble I could get into.

  I knew Adam had another cousin about his own age but I didn’t see him until I ambled down the hall to find the bathroom. On my way back, I saw movement in one of the bedrooms and poked my head in.

  “Hi,” I said.

  A tall man in his midtwenties sat at long L-shaped table that held two nicely tricked-out computers. He was bent over something tiny, holding a paintbrush in one hand. He looked up at me and just as quickly jerked his eyes away. He was a good-looking man—clearly a trait that ran in Adam’s family—but he was dressed curiously, with a mismatched sweater vest pulled over a plaid shirt.

  “Hi. You’re Emilia,” he said in a monotone, returning to his detailed brushwork.

  I nodded. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Adam told me about you.”

  I was surprised. He was so matter-of-fact about it. I wondered when Adam had mentioned me to his cousin and in what context.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, stepping into the room. This looked like his bedroom, but he clearly did not live here. The place was immaculate and there was no bed in it.

  “I’m William Drake, Peter Drake’s son,” he said formally.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I chirped. Adam had mentioned that he had a cousin on the autism spectrum. For part of my qualifications for medical school, I had volunteered to work with special needs teens and adults—most of whom had Asperger’s Syndrome or some other form of autism. I crept up to get a better look at his handiwork.

  “May I ask what you are doing?”

  “Painting figurines,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing ever. My eyes flew up to the shelves above his head, filled to overflowing with painted pewter figurines. They depicted all sorts of fantasy heroes—wizards, thieves, magicians, warriors, elves and dwarves.