Secret Billionaire
Page 14
The distant whir of an engine seemed to be getting louder. When Jessie looked up, she saw a speedboat heading their way.
“Oh, thank goodness, the driver turned around!” she cried.
The boat approached them, slowing down as it got closer.
“Here!”
A life ring landed in front of Jessie. She and Taylor grabbed onto it and the speedboat driver pulled them in. On the deck, catching her breath, Jessie realized this wasn’t the same boat they’d been with before.
Looking up, she saw her savior was Tom.
“Thank you. You saved our lives,” she said, then concentrated on breathing again.
“It was nothing. You’d have done the same,” he replied.
Only as he was driving them back to shore did Jessie wonder how Tom had known what had happened.
“Were you watching us the whole time?” she asked.
“I was testing an engine upgrade on this boat when I saw two people in the water. When I headed closer, I realized it was you two.”
“Thank you. Seriously. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been in the water.”
“Don’t think about that. You’re alive and safe, and that’s what’s important,” Tom said gently. “Now, let’s get you both back to your hotel room where you can dry off from those wet clothes. I’ll call the resort manager about the bad speedboat driver. He shouldn’t have left you like that.”
Jessie found some towels and wrapped Taylor up in one before taking another for herself. She laid down on her neat single bed, while Taylor cuddled up to her.
“That was scary,” Taylor declared.
“Yep. Let’s not do that again,” Jessie added.
“Jessie, Taylor, I honestly do not know what I would do if I lost you,” Tom said, and Jessie was taken aback to see a tear glistening in his eye.
That evening, Tom, Jessie, Anna, Richard and Taylor all went out to dinner together. They lingered over the food, telling jokes and anecdotes. The table was filled with laughter and Jessie was grateful to know such wonderful people.
When the desserts came, everyone was very quiet.
“What? Don’t tell me y’all have started a diet at the same time?” Jessie asked, digging into her cake.
Her spoon hit something solid.
“That’s a pretty hard chocolate chip,” she murmured, aware everyone at the table was still watching her intently. She tried to remove the hard chip with her spoon. But when it tumbled out of the cake, it definitely wasn’t chocolate.
A diamond ring glittered on the table. Jessie’s jaw dropped. It had to be... carats!
“Jessie,” Tom said, and his voice seemed to have moved. When Jessie looked around, she realized he’d gone down on one knee.
“Is this...?” She knew she was being a little slow to accept the situation in front of her, but there was still that voice in the back of her mind, which said, who would marry you?
“Jessica Martin, will you marry me?” Tom asked.
Jessie giggled. This felt so right and natural. She had never really thought about what it would be like to marry someone, but Tom was as close to the perfect man as anyone could be. And he wanted to be hers forever. On this vacation, he had shown his romantic side, and the part of him that was naturally great with kids.
“Yes. On one condition,” she said.
“Name it.”
She was pretty sure he was expecting her to say what came next.
“I will only marry you if you adopt Taylor and treat her like she was your own daughter. She and I are a package,” Jessie said, glancing over at her daughter, who was watching them intently, spoon poised over her dessert plate, dripping chocolate sauce.
“Of course, I can adopt Taylor,” Tom replied, and Jessie beamed while Taylor whispered a yesss.
“Those might be the most romantic words I ever did hear,” she told him. He kissed her chastely on the nose, and her heart overflowed with joy.
Epilogue
Jessie’s gown was Vera Wang. The designer herself had done the fittings. Jessie had preferred an off-the-rack gown from a local store, but Tom had pointed out the paparazzi would be all over his wedding. She wasn’t the sort of person to read the Forbes rich list, and she didn’t know anyone who did, so she’d had no idea about his net worth.
Apparently, he was the fifteenth wealthiest man in America. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around that kind of money, and her family had not been poor.
The church had been designed by a famous artist, and her makeup had been done by another. Now, she stood at the altar, gripping her bouquet tightly so she didn’t drop it in front of the guests.
“A wedding is the beginning of your journey together, the joining of a man and a woman in the holiest and most perfect of ways, as God intended,” the pastor said. Jessie smiled and glanced at Tom, who was listening to the pastor with his full attention.
She should probably be doing the same.
“...say your vows.”
“I promise to love you, provide for you, lead the way and make each day perfect for you and our children, for as long as we both shall live,” Tom said.
Jessie opened her mouth, feeling the buzzing of bees in her stomach as she confronted her terror of speaking in public.
“You’re just talking to me,” Tom whispered. She glanced up at him through her lashes and smiled.
“I promise to love you, respect you, listen to you, and make each day perfect for you and our children, for as long as we both shall live,” Jessie said. She looked pointedly to Taylor, who was their flower girl, as she said the words ‘our children.’
“You may exchange the rings,” the pastor said. “And repeat after me, with this ring I thee wed.”
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Tom said, and Jessie felt the sincerity in his words as he slipped her wedding ring onto her finger.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Jessie said, putting his ring onto his finger. They had chosen matching platinum bands. At Tiffany’s. Jessie had long-since stopped trying to process how big everything had gotten since she’d agreed to marry Tom six months ago.
Her life and Taylor’s had turned into a whirlwind of private jets, expensive clothes, fast cars and afternoon tea with people who kissed either side of Jessie’s face by way of a greeting.
The pace of change had been impossible to comprehend. She hoped things would settle after the honeymoon, and they could move in together and start living an ordinary life again.
Somehow, she suspected that nothing about Tom was ever going to be ordinary.
After the ceremony, Jessie held Tom’s hand as they went to their wedding car, under a shower of pastel confetti.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a billionaire?” she asked quietly.
“It was just my bank balance. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. Anyway, if you were the kind of girl who cared about that, I wouldn’t want to know you, never mind marry you.”
Jessie looked up at him with mild exasperation. “If I remember correctly, when first we met, you were the kind of guy who cared about whether I had a ring on my finger because I had a child with me.”
He looked sheepish as he helped her into the car.
“I’m sorry about that. I was foolish. Will you ever forgive me?”
“Of course. But only if you apologize to Taylor for making her feel bad.” Jessie was only half-serious. She knew Taylor had heard it all before.
“Sure. Taylor? I’m sorry I was rude to you and your mom when I first met you both.”
“That’s okay,” Taylor replied.
“There you have it,” Jessie said. “Everything’s good.”
“Great. And if you don’t care about my money, have I ever got the best honeymoon for you. Two weeks in a tent in the desert.”
He couldn’t keep a straight face after Jessie and Taylor giggled, and soon the three of them were laughing together.
“No, really, where are we going?” Jessie asked.
“My private island in Fiji. With a brief, week-long stopover in Hawaii to visit your sister again. We’re on the same flight as Anna and Richard.”
“We’re going commercial?” Maybe this trip was going to be nice and ordinary, after all.
“No. They’re coming on my private jet.”
Jessie groaned at the extravagance, but inwardly she was grateful and happy that she would see more of her sister. And Fiji sounded interesting. For a vacation. Then they could start that ordinary life together, Jessie told herself with a chuckle.
The End
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The Reclusive Billionaire: Oakdale Sweet Billionaires 2
“Bibbi?”
“What’s up, Becca?” Bibbi frowned as she answered the phone to one of her best friends. She had been about to close up her salon and go home for the day.
“There’s a guy at the hospital who wants to ask me on a date.”
“And?” Bibbi felt wary of where this conversation was going. Last time she’d offered Becca some well-intentioned advice about dating someone, it had backfired and both Becca and Jessie, Bibbi’s other best friend, had stopped speaking to her.
“He’s got... I don’t know... a vibe to him. I’m not sure I like it.”
“Then say no,” Bibbi replied, wondering why that might be worthy of a discussion.
“I would, but he’s real pushy. When I told him I was busy, he insisted that he would take me on a date tonight, once my shift was over. My car’s in the shop so I was going to take the bus, but I’m worried he’ll show up at the end of the day and make things awkward.”
Bibbi’s fear of saying the wrong thing was overtaken with indignance on her friend’s behalf. “He sounds like an oaf. Need me to stop by and drive you home?”
“Would you mind?”
“What time do you finish?”
“Eight.”
“I’ll be there.”
Looking at her watch, she ended the call. Two hours should be more than enough time to make a detour and still arrive at the hospital on time.
Bibbi was standing outside locking up her salon for the night when she heard the sound.
VROOOM.
“No way,” she whispered.
The noise reached into her gut and squeezed. She tensed and looked around. Red paint, the same color as her mom’s favorite lipstick. The engine, a low rumble, a horse longing to gallop, but forced to walk. The smooth shape, cutting through the air like a knife through hot butter.
Beautiful. Fast. European. Expensive.
The last time she’d seen one, she’d been six. Her dad was posted at a military base in Germany.
It was the car that had killed her mom.
Lost for a moment in a swirl of flashing lights, tears, screams and knees grazed from kneeling on cold asphalt for what seemed like a lifetime as her mom was taken into an ambulance, Bibbi struggled to center herself.
That was twenty years ago. She couldn’t change the past. She had to look to the future. No longer was she a lost little girl. In a half-hour, she had a date arranged. Before that, she needed to feed her best friend Jessie’s horses and dog.
Unlocking her own vehicle, a Ford Mustang, she was hit with the question that plagued her every day, lately.
If her mom was still alive, how different would things have been?
On autopilot, not daring to think at all in case she got lost in another bad memory, she started the car and drove to Jessie’s place. The route through town was so familiar, Bibbi could have done it with her eyes closed. Except for the traffic lights. Pausing at a red, she sat there for a full fifteen seconds before realizing she didn’t need to. After glancing in her mirror to check if anyone had seen her, she turned right and headed along the wide, orange-lit street until she arrived at Jessie’s place.
There were three lights on in the house, but Bibbi knew they were just table lamps on timers. Jessie and her husband Tom were away on a vacation to celebrate their six-month wedding anniversary. It seemed like an extravagance, but Tom had rivers of cash invested widely, so a vacation for Jessie and Tom was as simple as making a quick call to the pilot of Tom’s private jet.
Was Bibbi jealous? No. Well, okay, maybe just a little. But she quickly reminded herself she was very happy with her life. Mostly. There was just the small detail of being almost thirty and ready to settle down into married life, but she was missing a husband.
“Hello, boy, did you miss me?” she murmured to the dog as she unlocked the kitchen door. He jumped up, wagging his tail, and almost knocked her over. “Whoa, whoa boy.” She gave him a stern look and he backed off, still swishing his tail from left to right and back again.
Bibbi went to the shelf where Jessie kept dog food, and scooped out a cup of kibble, pouring it into the bowl on the floor with “Dog” painted onto the front in red letters. His nose was in the food almost immediately and Bibbi chuckled.
“Pretty hungry, huh, boy? Me too. I only got two bites of my deli roll at lunchtime.” She didn’t know why she was telling the dog this. After filling his water dish, she left the house, locking the door behind her, and headed to the stables.
Truth be told, Bibbi didn’t much like horses. She didn’t understand them, they smelled and they seemed pretty expensive. She muddled through feeding them, hoping she hadn’t missed any subtle but important signs of illness. Everything seemed to make horses sick. And Bibbi didn’t feel confident that she’d know what to do, beyond call a vet, if she saw any problems with the horses.
Once they were fed, she went home. Her suburban white fronted house was prettier than Jessie’s place, but it was smaller and was built on a tiny plot of land, not near enough to keep a horse. Which was just fine, because Bibbi didn’t want one.
While she made a late night warm cocoa, Bibbi listened to her answering machine.
“Hey, Bibbi, your dry cleaning is ready.”
Oops. She had forgotten to collect it several days ago. Was this it? Quiet, empty evenings where the only person trying to see her was Mrs. Chen? Even Becca had only called because she wanted to avoid a guy. Bibbi was pretty sure Becca would have called Jessie if she weren’t on vacay.
It wasn’t fun being at the bottom of everyone’s contact list.
“Hey, sweetheart, I knew you’d change your mind.” An acne-pocked young man in a labcoat approached Becca. Bibbi watched him lean too close, and she jumped out of her car, heading for Becca at a run.
“I’m parked over here. Let’s get you ready for your big date. I can’t believe you got asked out by a Trump!” Bibbi announced with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
Becca was good at managing her emotions—she had to be, as a doctor—and she didn’t seem surprised at all by Bibbi’s words.
“Did you get the dress?” Becca asked, going along with it.
“I have the perfect one ready for you.”
“A... Trump?” The young man looked very put out.
“Hi I’m Bibbi Laughlin, cosmetologist and stylist.” Bibbi held her card out. “Dr. Oakwood is on the clock. We have exactly thirty minutes to get her to the restaurant, so we have to hustle, sir.”
With an air of knowing what she was doing, Bibbi put one arm around Becca and led her to the car. Once they were around the corner, they both succumbed to a fit of giggles that made Bibbi hit the hazard lights and pull over for a minute, until her eyes stopped streaming with laughter.
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br /> “Okay, but I have to know which Trump you matched me with in your mind,” Becca said.
“Henry Trump, the single millionaire who runs the famous Runners sneaker brand. Duh. He lives in Fanatteville.”
“I did not know that,” Becca remarked with a laugh. “You think of everything.”
Bibbi shrugged and began driving again. “That should keep Doctor Bad Skin off your trail for a while.”
“Thanks.”
They fell into an easy silence until Bibbi arrived at Becca’s house and stopped the car.
“Thanks again,” Becca said.
Bibbi smiled and gave her friend a mock-salute. “Stay safe, hun.”
Once Becca had gone inside, Bibbi drove home, where she made some instant ramen before heading on up to her small bed. She switched the light off at ten o’clock on the dot and closed her eyes.
Sleep wouldn’t come.
All she could think of was that red car with the V8 engine that had powered down the street earlier. The roar of the engine. Shattering of glass. Herself, a lost little girl crying for her mommy.
She fell into something like sleep and re-lived the worst day of her life, over and over, until she awoke at four in the morning in a cold sweat.
The room was shrouded in darkness, deepened in places. Bibbi stared into the blackness, too afraid to move. She whispered a prayer and made her hand move to the lamp. The soft glow proved the deep shadows had been nothing more than furniture and pictures on the walls.
Busy. She needed to keep busy. She took a shower, spending time washing her hair thoroughly, conditioning it, then rinsing. As she watched the bubbles run down the drain, she decided she would take a run, today.
Her relationship with sport was complicated. Her father had always pushed her hard to run, jump, swim, climb, but she had hated every moment of it. She hated being breathless. The idea of pushing herself past the point of feeling comfortable was abhorrent. Anyway, nothing she had ever done was good enough for him, and that had made her stop trying a long time ago.