Because He Watches Me (Because He Owns Me, Book Nine) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Hannah Ford

  Red shook his head. “No, I can’t compete with Kane Wright in a price war, especially not now. Our stock is falling, and the word on the street is that I’m bleeding. I’ve been told that the board of directors of Jameson International is meeting at the end of next week. There’s a very good chance I’ll be terminated from my position as CEO, and Kane Wright will try and force a hostile takeover of our company.”

  “But you founded the company, they can’t fire you!”

  Red smiled sadly, took a sip of water and appeared thoughtful again. “Yet another mistake I made was that I only technically own forty-nine percent of the company. I needed to raise capital a few years back and so I gave a controlling interest away, knowing that it would take a very extreme circumstance for me to actually be forced out of my own company. But that day is here,” he said. “Too many mistakes, a bad economy, and a very powerful man intent on ruining me. That’s what it’s taken for me to lose everything I worked so hard to build.”

  Nicole stood up. “We’ll build another company. You’re Red Jameson, you’re a genius.”

  “Some genius,” he laughed. “Others might call me a one-hit wonder after this debacle.”

  “Nonsense,” Nicole said. “I know what you’re capable of.”

  “Apparently so does Kane Wright.”

  ***

  After a long, grueling day trying to find solutions to a problem that seemed unsolvable, Nicole and Red finally returned back to their hotel at seven o’clock that evening.

  Red was exhausted, more tired than she’d ever seen him. He went and took a long steam in the sauna and Nicole tried to relax and watch some TV. Most of the channels were in German, but she was able to find an older American film, Pretty Woman.

  Nicole loved that movie, and she found it ironic that of all the movies that could have been on TV right now, Pretty Woman was the one she’d found at this precise moment.

  And then she thought of Red’s mother, who’d basically accused her of being no different than a prostitute. Erica Jameson would have found it more than interesting that one of Nicole’s favorite movies was about a young, beautiful prostitute who falls in love with her rich client.

  But for Nicole it was all about the love story, love triumphing over everything. No matter how different two people were, she thought, if they loved one another than they could find a way to be together.

  Red had left his phone on the nightstand next to the bed. It started to ring during the scene where Julia Roberts was being treated shabbily at the posh store on Rodeo Drive (which just happened to be one of Nicole’s favorite scenes).

  She glanced at Red’s cell and saw the number was unknown. For some reason, Nicole had a strange gut feeling that this call was important. “Red!” she called, grabbing the cell phone and getting off the bed. “Red, someone’s calling!” she cried out, but there was no reply from the bathroom.

  Instinctively, she answered his phone before they could disconnect. “Hello?”

  The voice on the other end was deep, pleasant, and decidedly not American, although the accent was impossible to pin down. “I must have the wrong number,” he said.

  “Are you looking for Mister Jameson?” she asked, her voice betraying her nervousness at having answered the phone without Red’s permission.

  “Are you his assistant?” the man asked.

  “I’m—I’m a colleague,” she stuttered.

  “Oh,” the voice chuckled with good-natured humor. “A colleague. Yes, of course. I imagine you’re a rather beautiful young colleague, as well. Would your name happen to be Nicole Masters?”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. How did this person know her name? She didn’t answer at first. And then, collecting herself, said, “May I tell Mister Jameson who’s calling?”

  “Yes, but first I’d like a chance to speak with you, Nicole.”

  She didn’t know what to do. If she denied her own name, she’d be lying for no reason. But she also didn’t feel comfortable with this strange man knowing who she was, when she didn’t know who he was. “I think I should just get Red—Mister Jameson, I mean—on the line.”

  “Oh, that’s really too bad. You have a lovely voice.”

  “Thanks. And who should I say is on the line?” she asked yet again.

  He chuckled. “An old friend.”

  Something in his voice made her nervous. And she didn’t know how she knew this, but Nicole suddenly had a strong gut feeling that this stranger was the very man they’d been talking about all day long. She’d never heard of him before today, but Nicole sensed that this was none other than Kane Wright.

  “I’m not sure that Red wants to speak with you right now, Mr. Wright.”

  Suddenly it was his turn to pause. After a long moment, he laughed as if delighted. “Aren’t you the smart little detective? No wonder Red fancies you. Beauty and brains, the full package.”

  “I’ll let him know you called.”

  “No,” he said, and the charm melted away from his voice. “Tell him that I’ve made dinner arrangements for the three of us tonight at the most exclusive restaurant in all of Berlin.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes,” Kane replied. “Reinstoff, at nine-thirty sharp. Please don’t keep me waiting, Nicole. My patience only extends so far.”

  “Well, I don’t—“

  And then the line went dead. She looked at the phone like it was a poisonous snake, feeling as though she might have just received a venomous bite due to her impulsivity in answering Red’s phone. What was she thinking? He was going to be furious.

  Stunned, she knocked on the bathroom door again, and he still didn’t answer. So she opened the door, hit full blast by the steam from Red’s sauna. The bathroom was enormous, and she rounded the corner to the stall in the back. “Red, I need to tell you something,” she called out.

  “Nicole?” he called back, his voice echoing. He emerged from the sauna with a towel wrapped around his waist and his body glimmering, covered by a thin sheen of sweat. Beads of water dripped down his black locks of hair that fell across his forehead. “Is everything all right?” he said.

  “I don’t know.” She handed him his cell. “I might have just done something stupid.”

  He checked the caller ID and saw the most recent blocked number. “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  “Your phone started ringing and I had this feeling it was important, so I answered it.”

  Red looked up at her, surprised. “You answered my phone?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He smiled, then, and moved to kiss her lips. His kiss tasted salty sweet. “My darling, of course you can answer my phone. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  She sighed in relief. “I wasn’t sure if…if you’d think…”

  He waved her concerns away. “Now tell me the rest.”

  “It was Kane Wright,” she said.

  His eyes went flat and cold. His lips tightened into a straight line, and his jaw clenched in that familiar way. “What did he want?” Red asked, through his teeth.

  “He somehow knew it was me on the line without my telling him.”

  Red walked to the sink and grabbed another small towel, patted down his face. “Of course he knew. He reads everything, he keeps meticulous tabs on all of his competition—especially me.”

  “He was trying to flirt with me, I think.”

  Red looked at her in the mirror, his eyes blazing now. “He flirted with you?”

  “A little, in a gentlemanly, polite way. It seemed harmless enough, but I thought I should tell you just the same.”

  “Don’t fall for his old world European charm, Nicole. The man is a vermin.”

  “He didn’t impress me,” she said. “You’re the only one who can charm me.”

  Red turned and looked at her. “Are you sure about that, Nicole?”

  “Of course.”

  “You might be put to the test on it sooner than either of us thought.”

  She folded her
arms and tilted her chin up, defiant now. “It won’t be a test for me,” she said. “I love you and you alone.”

  “Good. Where did he tell us to meet him?” Red asked, throwing the towel to the sink.

  “How did you know he wants to meet with us?”

  Red laughed. “I’ve been studying him for as long as he’s been studying me.”

  Nicole told him the restaurant and the time. Red nodded. “We’d better get ready, then.”

  ***

  The restaurant was located in a huge old building that Red told her had once been a Prussian factory. They exited the cab and the doorman held the door for them to enter. Nicole nervously looked down at her black cocktail dress and wondered if she should have worn something less “sexy.”

  But Red had seemed happy with what she’d chosen for an outfit. He was dapper in one of his classic black suits with a crimson tie. He smelled of aftershave and mint.

  Once inside, Nicole was shocked by how dark the lighting was. Each table had an immaculate white tablecloth and was illuminated by a spotlight from the high ceiling above, but the diners were all shrouded in gloom.

  Tinkling piano sounds drifted through the room like smoke.

  Red nodded towards the far end of the restaurant. “That’s him,” he said, starting to walk that way as the hostess enquired something in German. Red said something back to her in her native language, and she accompanied them to a table in the back of the room.

  When they were close enough for Nicole to see what this mystery man actually looked like, she was shocked to find that he was a very handsome person, not at all whom she’d imagined from the sound of that voice on the phone.

  He was older than Red, perhaps late forties or even early fifties. But it was obvious that he took very good care of himself. His broad shoulders and muscular build confirmed that much. What Nicole found most daunting were his eyes, however. He had light colored eyes, but when he glanced at Nicole his eyes darkened. And like Red, she saw a very similar intensity and hunger in Kane’s gaze when it locked on hers.

  Kane stood up to greet them. “How good of you both to join me,” he said, shaking Red’s hand and then taking Nicole’s as well. His grip was soft, his hand warm and smooth.

  He was wearing a light blue blazer and a gold watch. His hair was lighter than Red’s, and feathered in a more stylish fashion. Red came across far more rugged and “working class” than Kane did, which was funny, since they were both ultra-rich billionaires.

  When everyone was seated, Kane looked across the table at them. “I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of red wine for the table,” he said. “A 1997 Dom Romanee Conti.”

  Red smiled, but just barely. “Good choice.”

  “Does the lady approve?” Kane asked, turning his attention to Nicole. His eyes, again making her uncomfortable with what felt like an intrusive intimacy.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” she said softly.

  Kane laughed. Red’s cheek twitched in response.

  “I think you’ll find it quite satisfying, Nicole,” Kane said, taking his linen napkin and spreading it across his lap.

  “Why don’t we dispense with the pleasantries and get down to business?” Red asked, his expression almost predatory. Nicole could feel the waves of hate and tension radiating off him, like he was holding himself back from leaping across the table and strangling the other man.

  If Kane sensed the hostility, he didn’t appear intimidated by it. Instead, he raised his eyebrows. “I thought we were getting down to business. You see, that’s the difference between your fiancé and I,” Kane said, turning once again to Nicole. “He thinks like a crocodile. It’s all about the kill for him—whereas I am more like a cat with a mouse in its jaws. The cat doesn’t just clamp down and break the mouse’s neck, although it could. Instead, it plays with its food, it chases it, lets the poor thing believe it has a fighting chance.”

  Red was about to reply, but the waiter appeared with the wine and began to pour. Kane spoke to the waiter in German, and if anything he was more fluent in the language than Red. The way he spoke was melodic, and she could tell that Kane loved hearing the sound of his own voice.

  Once the wine had been poured, the waiter placed the bottle on the table, bowed and disappeared back into the dark gloom of the restaurant.

  Nicole took a sip from her glass and found that it really was an amazing taste. She hated that she was enjoying something this man had given them, knowing how it came at Red’s expense.

  “You like?” Kane asked.

  Red put up a hand to stop her from speaking. “Enough,” he said to Kane. His voice was low and guttural. “I’m about to get up and end this so-called business meeting unless you tell me why you’ve asked me here.”

  Kane laughed yet again. He seemed genuinely pleased in having provoked this response from his younger opponent. “Please, you frighten me with these threats. What would I do if you left me here like this?”

  “I imagine you’re used to dining alone,” Red replied.

  “A man who cannot stand to be alone has a weakness that can be preyed upon by his foes,” Kane said. He picked up his wine glass and sniffed the contents, then drank it with apparent enjoyment. “As you wish, my friend.” He placed the glass on the table again, and his smile faded, as he looked across the table at Red and Red alone. “Let me lay my cards on the table for you.”

  “Please.” Red sat back and crossed his arms.

  “We both know that Jameson International is a hair’s breadth away from utter catastrophe.”

  Red didn’t react to the other man’s assertion. His face was as calm and implacable as a black lake on a winter’s day.

  “I’m interested in a partnership with you and your company,” Kane said finally, smiling a bit at the sound of what he was saying. “Perhaps I can be of some help to you.”

  Red shook his head. “I can’t partner with someone I don’t trust. And I’m not interested in having a partner in any case. I built Jameson International from the ground up and I don’t require any help. But I appreciate the offer.” He made as if to stand.

  “Wait just a moment, don’t be so hasty,” Kane said. “There’s still more drink and food to be had. This is the best restaurant in all of Germany and you want to rush back to your hotel for what?” Then he glanced at Nicole. “Of course, you have your reasons for wanting to rush back, I am sure. But still…” he smiled. “Let me clarify my position a bit further.”

  Red relaxed into his chair again, waiting. “Go on.”

  Kane met his gaze and they stared at one another for a long enough time that it made Nicole distinctly uncomfortable. She could see there was some kind of subtle fight between them, a quest to establish dominance, probably going all the way back to their caveman ancestry. These two men were kings of their respective domains, used to getting whatever they wanted, used to people bowing and scraping. But in this instance, they were faced with another man who considered himself a true equal.

  “There are two ways I can have what I want,” Kane said, after a time. His eyes were turning colder and colder, Nicole thought—as if his pleasant mask were slowly melting away and his true face was coming through. Behind the mask of politeness lay a true predator who was no better than any cold-blooded killer, despite the fact that he could discuss wine and politics and music. “The first way I get what I want is through cooperation,” Kane continued. “Mutual cooperation between you and I,” he told Red.

  “And the other way?” Red asked, sounding interested.

  “The other way is far less pleasant, unfortunately,” Kane replied. “You’ve already had a taste of it,” he said to Red. “I’ll bleed your newly acquired German advertising agency white, suck the very marrow from its bones. Your stock will plummet, as it already has begun to—and what was at first a minor flesh wound will become infected.”

  Red smirked, but Nicole could tell that Kane was telling the truth.

  “This infection will fester,” Kane said,
toying again with his wine glass. “When the quarterly earnings reports come out, it will become gangrene and an amputation will be required. I have a feeling that the amputated limb might just be Jameson International’s own founder and CEO.” Kane glanced up to gauge Red’s response.

  Red hadn’t reacted at all, however. For the first time in the conversation, Kane seemed a trifle miffed. His arrogant smile morphed into a tiny frown momentarily.

  “I’m not afraid of losing my job,” Red told him. “I’ve started one company, I can start another.”

  “But you needn’t lose your job,” Kane said.

  The waiter reappeared just then, asking in heavily accented English if they were ready to order. “We haven’t had a chance to look at the menu yet,” Red told him.

  “That’s all right,” Kane said. And then in German, he and the waiter exchanged some words back and forth, before the waiter departed.

  Red shook his head. “I’m not interested in anything you’ve presented so far. Not your offer to become partners, nor your threats to my job, and certainly not your restaurant etiquette.”

  Kane shrugged. “You should consider what I’ve said tonight. Pride should never interfere with business.”

  “I’ve had just about enough fortune cookie wisdom,” Red said, standing and pulling Nicole’s seat back for her so that she could get up as well.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Nicole,” Kane said, standing and bowing his head slightly.

  She didn’t know what to say, so Nicole just smiled uncomfortably and then Red took her hand and they left.

  On the taxi ride home, Red was mostly quiet, contemplative.

  “Should I just keep my thoughts to myself?” she asked him.

  He turned to her and shook his head. “Of course not,” he said, putting his hand on her leg, where his touch electrified her skin. “I want you to be able to tell me anything.”

  As the cab bumped its way through Berlin, shadows moved across Red’s face. Somehow it felt more romantic than ever to be close to him. “First, remember how much I love you,” she told him. “So when I say this, it comes from a place of wanting what’s best for you—and for us.”