The Billionaire's Girl

by Bella Fontaine

  “A control freak,” I offered up.

  “Yes, and forgive me, but he’s an asshole.”

  “Yes, we both know he’s a prick. But I want to know why you didn’t tell me all the gory details.”

  We couldn’t tear down a whole complex of people who would likely end up homeless. That was pure evil.

  “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d behave like this and wouldn’t do it.”

  “Fucking right, I’m not doing it.” I smirked, but the solemn look on his face caught and held my attention. “What? What is it?”

  “Please don’t say anything. It really isn’t my place to say this, but you’re right. I should have had your back. Your father is thinking of giving Patrick sole control over the business.”

  “What!” What the hell?

  “Yes.”

  “What do you mean, the business? The Chicago office?”

  Dad oversaw all the US-based offices. Surely, Maurice couldn’t have meant that that was what Dad wanted to give Patrick control over. Everything.

  “You know what I mean.” Maurice bit the inside of his lip. “Patrick came up with this idea, and your father brought you back in to work on it as a sort of test. Joint ownership of the business or just Patrick with you continuing to do what you were doing in Europe.”

  Fuck. I frowned.

  I liked Europe and living there, but I didn’t want to reside there permanently.

  That wasn’t what I had in mind for myself.

  I’d been away for the last six years setting up the offices in England, France, Holland, and Italy. The irony in that was, I took on the task of going to Europe because I thought it would bode well for me here.

  I thought Dad would … I don’t know, maybe give me more responsibility here.

  I was ecstatic when he’d called me back home to do this project. I thought it was because of my hard work and all the results we had achieved in Europe. I never thought it was because of some plan to choose who he would give more responsibility to.

  Or not.

  “See? See why I never said anything?”

  “I see. That doesn’t make it right though.” It would have been nice to know what I was coming home to.

  “What are you going to do?”

  I didn’t know. The whole situation was shit, and I was too shocked to think about what I had the power to do.

  I didn’t care what anyone said. Patrick had always been the favorite. Older than me by three years, Patrick was always the apple of Dad’s eyes. It was because of his ability to lick ass and fucking brownnose.

  I was the opposite. I was more like Mom, who divorced Dad’s cheating ass and moved to Italy. Like her, I didn’t stand for shit or nonsense, and maybe I spoke my opinions a little too much. Truth be told, that was perhaps why they’d shipped me off to Europe.

  I saw it all so clearly now.

  They wanted me out of the way. This new thing must have been Dad acknowledging that they needed me in some way, which of course they did.

  I was the one with the know-how to make it all happen.

  “I want the reporter’s name. Get me her name and where she works. Details.”

  “What are you going to do, Chad?”

  I smiled. “Some field work.”

  “Field work? What the hell is that supposed to mean? She exposed us and made the company look like the devil. What we need to find out is who told her, and second, we need serious damage control. That’s going to be all over the papers in the morning. In fact, I’m certain either Patrick or your dad will call. Tonight should have been a breeze, but it turned out to be a disaster.”

  He got that right, but he was freaking out far too much for my nerves.

  “Maurice, I want her name.”

  “Chad, why?”

  When I smiled again, the frown on his face deepened. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Chad, now isn’t the time to go chasing skirt.”

  With a wicked smile on my face, I walked up to him and gave him a pat on his back.

  “No time like the present. Anyway, do I need to remind you that you’re my PA. and my best friend?” I nodded.

  He was right. He was undoubtedly right, but I was going to get to the bottom of this myself.

  It started with her.

  The gorgeous reporter who’d dazzled me with her beauty. I, too, wanted to find out how in the hell she knew something I hadn’t even known. And there was no harm in indulging my interest while I did that.

  Kill two birds with one stone.

  Chapter 3

  Billie

  “My gosh, Arnauds is all over the news!” Zoila beamed with wide eyes. She popped a peanut butter M&M into her mouth and started munching away at it.

  I’d barely stepped in, and honestly, I was kind of tired from the journey back from the center. I wanted to tell my curious roommate all that had happened, but my bed was calling me.

  It was nearly ten. A one-hour journey had turned into two hours.

  It was a nightmare getting through traffic even though it was quite late.

  There were detours and all manner of chaos. I’d wanted to stop at the supermarket and grab some fruit buns to celebrate, but with the traffic I thought I’d postpone it.

  “Well, I did it.” I smiled, throwing myself down on the sofa.

  “Dios mío. You are very brave.” She giggled, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder. “What do you think Miranda will say tomorrow?”

  Miranda was our boss at the Chronicle. Zoila and I had worked under her for the last six years.

  We’d started as interns straight out of college and stayed.

  While I did more hands-on investigative jobs, Zoila wrote the lifestyle section.

  I’d already spoken to Miranda and told her everything Mom had told me. She already knew the impact of my actions.

  From the news ticker across the bottom of the TV screen, it looked like the impact of my actions was a little greater than any of us had expected.

  Arnauds lies about recent plans to build luxury apartments.

  That was the headline.

  “I hope she’ll be happy. It’s a great story, right?” I smiled, even though I remembered the stunned look on Chad Arnaud’s face from earlier.

  Chad Arnaud’s very handsome face.

  God, I was hopeless. I needed to stop myself from venturing down that path.

  “The story is Pulitzer worthy.” Zoila giggled, putting more M&Ms in her mouth.

  “It’s close. I’d just be happy with more money. Some more recognition for all the work I do.” I was going to need it because from the way things looked, I’d either have to pull out all my savings and get a mortgage, so I could have somewhere decent for Mom to stay, or we’d have to get a bigger place to live in.

  It was all such a mess.

  Mom worked a part-time job as a nurse at Sacred Memorial Hospital.

  She couldn’t do full time hours because of her hip, which had been replaced twice. That job made it possible for her to afford the rent on the apartment at Winsor Estate.

  She wouldn’t be able to get a mortgage. No way.

  So, that left me.

  I would always take care of her. Always. That wasn’t a problem, and not one I worried about right now. It was a given that I would take care of her.

  The situation as a whole, however, was awful. It weighed heavily on my heart that the other residents of the complex would be severely affected. I knew a lot of them. Most of the people had lived there since I was a kid.

  It was all unfair.

  My plans were to work hard and buy Mom a house. I wanted her to have the house she’d always dreamed of having when I was little.

  A place in the suburbs, where she could have a garden to grow her lillies.

  That was very unlikely to happen now.

  “What do you think will happen? All the other papers are gonna snap the story up.”

  “All the other papers don’t have me.”

 
; She nodded with a firm smile.

  “This could be it, chica. La leche.” I loved when Zoila went all Spanish on me. It was cool. “Great story, and who knows what comes next.”

  I couldn’t help but imagine all the possibilities.

  I’d already written the story. As soon as I’d spoken to Miranda and she’d given me the go-ahead, I wrote it. That was three days ago.

  Usually, I’d plan out what I was going to say and check over everything before I was satisfied with what I’d written, but not this time. That was all unnecessary this time because what was happening was affecting me personally.

  I didn’t know for how long Mom must have cried when she’d called me to tell me the news. She’d called, and I’d comforted her, spent hours trying to give her strength, and then I’d ended up missing half a day at work yesterday because I was still trying to comfort her.

  She’d looked awful.

  My mother was a woman who took great care of herself with what she had. People always confused us for being sisters even though Mom was in her late fifties.

  I was twenty-eight and proud to have a mother who looked so young and beautiful, but that day, she’d looked like all the years had caught up with her. Like in one of those films where people had the life sucked out of them.

  Her usually vibrant dark brown skin had looked gray. That was the first thing I’d noticed, and that ashen appearance had dulled her eyes and even her hair.

  She’d looked like she’d lost weight too and was knocking at death’s doors.

  It was awful. What was worse was that feeling of helplessness.

  So, when I’d grabbed my laptop and started writing, the words poured from my soul. They came straight from there. My heart and soul.

  I took great pleasure in tonight’s confrontation. There was a part of me that felt some element of triumph even, but the helplessness was still there.

  It wasn’t as if my little outburst could change Arnauds plans.

  But perhaps it could delay them.

  That one-month notice was the killer. Everything else was bad, but that part was evil. Tonight had been eventful, but I had a feeling the real show would begin tomorrow.

  I was right.

  Miranda called me into her office the minute Zoila and I stepped into work.

  She had a wild look of excitement in her large brown eyes, and her wild curly hair bounced with each move she made as she spoke to me.

  I didn’t think I’d ever seen her look so buzzed. It was nice.

  “Billie, God… Our paper is flying off the shelves. We’ve already received re-orders from the suppliers, and I’m thinking of you doing an update for this evening based on last night’s confrontation.”

  “That sounds great. I can write that up in next to no time. Kind of like an update?”

  “Yes, but if you could be specific. All the other papers are reporting on what happened when you revealed what Arnauds is up to, but they don’t have specifics. I want something different.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. I doubted I could be any more specific than anyone else. Truthfully, not a lot had happened, and I’d probably been shamefully focused on Mr. Gorgeous a lot more than I should have.

  It was the eyes, and everything.

  “I’ll do my best, but he was really thrown when I questioned him.”

  “Say that, say stuff like that. No one can write the piece better than you because it’s practically about you.” Miranda bubbled with a bright smile and rolled up the sleeves to her navy-blue blazer.

  As usual, she was dressed like she was ready for the runway, and I couldn’t help but admire her and wish for nice clothes too.

  “Okay. I can do that.” Again, it would be personal.

  “There’s something else.” She pulled in a breath. When a tentative expression washed over her face, I knew it would probably be something I wouldn’t like.

  “What?”

  “Maybe you should sit for this.” She pointed to the soft leatherback chair in front of her.

  Nervously, I sat and brought my hands together.

  “Miranda, you’re making me nervous, you realize that, right?” I chuckled.

  She moved to sit on the edge of her desk and pressed her lips together. “I know, and I’m nervous for you.” She blinked a few times. “The Arnauds are refusing to make any statements, and they’re turning down all requests for interviews.”

  “It’s hardly surprising. I figured they’re still trying to figure out who leaked the information. Surely they must have figured out by now that one of the residents went to the press.” Which technically did happen when Mom told me what was going on.

  I’d bet they thought the complex held a bunch of elderly and disadvantaged people who wouldn’t have the means to put up a fight.

  “I believe that too, which is why I’m certain they’ll come to you at some point. I haven’t been contacted yet, but I assume I’ll get a phone call because our story was the most thorough with details based on what you know. Until this morning, they didn’t know what paper you worked for or your name. Now they have that, and it’s all over the news.”

  I’d known that might happen. “Let them come. I don’t care. It’s like war, and they declared war on me when it became about my mom.” I straightened.

  “That’s what I love about you. Your spirit. Billie, when that happens, I need you to request an interview, and I want you to do it.”

  I pressed my lips together. Writing about what was going on and talking about it were two different things. I loved interviews, but this was on a different scale for me. I guess though, this was essentially my story, and it would be wrong for anyone else to do it.

  “Okay. Wouldn’t it be easier to send off a request to their PR team? If they know who I am now, maybe we could use it as leverage.”

  “One step ahead of you. I did it this morning. What I think though is, they won’t initially want to do an interview. They’ll want to question you. I’ve seen things like this happen before. People like them scatter like headless chickens first until they get their shit together, and that’s when they’ll be ready to answer questions.”

  I nodded, understanding completely. “Okay. I like this.”

  “Interview with the big cheese himself.”

  “Yes, but … his son seemed to be in charge.”

  “Sure, but all projects get authorized through Conrad. Conrad runs the show. Patrick is a world-class sleaze bag,” Miranda pouted and frowned. “He initiates the project. And Chad is a whole other area of grayness. He’s been in Europe building.”

  “Building?”

  “He’s the architect in the company. My guess is, they needed him because he builds from scratch. That’s what he did in Europe. Anyway. They’re a team. They work together like they’re the same person. But Conrad’s your guy.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll go write the piece for this evening and prep the questions for the interview.”

  “I’ll let you know if they get back to me today. I’m guessing they will either today or tomorrow. Billie, you do this, and you will get a raise. I realize that you’ve been on the same salary for the last two years, and you’ve been cool about it. I know there’s a point though that everyone reaches when they’ve had enough.” She offered a kind smile.

  “Thank you for noticing.”

  “I have. I haven’t been able to do it before, but I’ll put in a request to the board for a salary increase of forty percent of what you get per annum.”

  My mouth dropped, and I gasped. “Really? Oh my gosh.”

  That would be unreal. I would be able to get a good mortgage with that and take care of Mom. It was the salary I was desperately seeking.

  “Yes. It’s well deserved. Things have been hard since the merger.”

  Prior to the merger three years ago, I’d thought we would go out of business. It worried me, but then I had a few offers from some smaller papers and a weekly magazine. The pay wasn’t too bad but not as much as what I got here.<
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  The merger with Pearsons Investments saved us, and it was so much the better that we got to keep everything the way it was.

  But that was literally keeping everything the way it was, including my salary.

  I’d been on 35k now for the last five years, while other journalists of my caliber were on 50-60k, and even 70k and above.

  It was the experience. I had experience and know-how that came with serious hard work. I might not have the academics on paper like they did, but I had experience. Lately, it worried me that I was stuck in a career rut where I was sitting in the same position for far too long.

  I liked working at the Chronicle, but I knew my expertise probably lay with a bigger newspaper where I could have more opportunities.

  Fear, however, had kept me here. I thought if I could climb the career ladder here, I could stay, and it would be sufficient for me.

  I had, however, always wanted to work for the Chicago Tribune.

  That was where my heart was when I’d first decided I wanted to be a journalist.

  It was fine though; at least things were happening for me here and at a time when I most needed it.

  I was grateful.

  Miranda smiled and continued. “We’ve had to budget more and be careful where money goes. But we want to keep you for as long as we can.”

  I couldn’t help the bright smile that filled my face. “Thanks so much. It means a lot.”

  “I’ll put the request in once we secure the interview. A strong case will build a good picture for you.”

  So, if I got the interview, there was a chance of a raise.

  Good but not great. I was kind of hoping what I’d done so far would be enough. It was fine. I couldn’t worry about that now. I’d work with what I had even if it wasn’t much.

  It was something.

  I spent the day writing and prepping.

  My update went into print just after lunch, and by four o’clock, it was distributed to all the newsagents and stores as a special update.

  Word had it that the paper today alone made close to a million dollars. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t get involved in the specifics of what we made on a weekly or even a daily basis, but I highly doubted it was close to that. That was more of a six-month turnover. Definitely not a day’s work.