The Solitary Billionaire
The Game Show
A Romance Novelette
Part 1
By Trixie J Belle
Copyright 2012 Trixie J Belle
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part maybe reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, events, is coincidental. All the incidents are pure invention. They are not distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author.
About the Author
Trixie J Belle was an avid reader of romance before she began to write them.
The name of her first Novelette is Gentlemen Prefer Burlesque (The Enticement, Vol. 1).
The second Novelette is Gentlemen Prefer Burlesque (The Enslavement, Vol. 2).
The third Novelette is Gentlemen Prefer Burlesque (The Final Act, Vol. 3).
The fourth Novelette is Gentlemen Prefer Burlesque (The Billionaire’s Daughter, Vol. 4).
You can contact Trixie at [email protected]
***
Minx Valour loves a challenge. And the biggest entertainment show of the year is offering a once in a lifetime opportunity to the winner. It’s the prize of a lifetime!
Glamorous blonde, Minx Valour requires one Golden Star and she will get the opportunity to spend a week with any celebrity she chooses in the entire world.
The Game Show will approach royalty, a rock star, movie star or tycoon and offer them a donation of 10 million dollars to a charity of their choice, should they accept spending a week with the winner.
The shipping and property tycoon, Stanley Marx is a notorious recluse. The tormented billionaire lives in seclusion since the tragic death of his wife and son and has not been seen in public in years. Would he agree to spend a week with a perfectly groomed curvaceous model and budding journalist? Minx Valour is determined to find out what happened that fateful night ten years ago and get the scoop most journalists can only dream of!
***
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter One
The crowd clapped as the statuesque blonde with a curvaceous figure sashayed down the catwalk in a pillar-box red form-fitting dress. She was admired in the modelling world for her long tanned limbs, razor sharp cheekbones and ice-blue eyes. Minx Valour had been a professional model with Cosmic Models for less than a year but already she had amassed an impressive portfolio.
Co-workers in the modelling world spent the day talking about the competition in the Evening Bulletin. The Evening Bulletin marketing campaign was a stroke of genius and their readership increased 75% since they announced the Golden Star competition details.
At the fashion show, Mary, the owner of Cosmic Models refused to shut up about the golden ticket.
“Wouldn’t it be something, Minx, to open the Evening Bulletin and find an envelope containing the golden star glistening inside?”
“Who would you choose to spend the week with?”
“It would have to be Elvis or Marilyn Monroe,” Mary said dreamily as she tottered around the changing room wearing a monochrome print dress accessorised with towering heels and classic jewellery.
“They have to be alive obviously. What about the President, the Pope or one of the Rolling Stones?”
“I doubt the President would agree. What if Monica Lewinsky won?”
“If they refuse, The Evening Bulletin will approach the second person on your celebrity wish list, but the prize money will go down by 5 Million Euro. This money is going to a charity of the celebrity’s choice,” whispered Minx, applying burgundy lipstick.
“I bought fifty copies of yesterday’s Evening Bulletin. How many newspapers did you buy?”
“Three. I’ll get a few copies on my way home. I’m not much of a gambler, I never win anything,” moaned Minx.
“I’ve spent most of my wages this month on the damned Evening Bulletin,” Mary said, huffing and puffing at the thought of being broke for the rest of the month.
“If it’s any consolation I’ve spent most of my wages on a pair of pointy silver stilettos by Manola Blahnik,” said Minx as she zipped up her glossy black leather jacket from Karen Millen.
“Remember you have a prestigious photo shoot tomorrow for a commercial. I don’t want any wild nights, you need to look fresh.”
“I’m also a freelance Journalist, Mary. I don’t have time for wild nights.”
“Goodbye darling,” said Mary, blowing a few kisses towards Minx as she glided out the door.
The weather turned cold as Minx Valour trudged towards the train station. Huge flakes of snow drifted slowly out of the ice sky as Minx stopped at a newsagent to buy the Evening Bulletin before boarding the train and heading home.
***
Inside Minx’s apartment, little jets of freezing air came rushing in under the door. The apartment was dusty and over-decorated with complicated floral wallpaper, red cotton curtains, decorative lampshades adorned with crystals and a brown leather sofa.
The excitement over the Golden Star was forgotten as she rushed around the apartment hunting for her favourite cashmere jumper and switching on the heating.
She pushed her reading glasses up on her nose and her trembling hands opened the envelope in the magazine section of the Evening Bulletin.
Minx’s ice-blue eyes were shining with excitement as a brilliant flash of gold in the shape of a star popped out of the envelope. She felt dizzy and wiped the beads of sweat from her brow. Minx rushed round the room like a hurricane and jumped up and down on the worn leather sofa with delight.
Minx dashed to the phone to ring her mother.
“Mother, Mother, Guess what?” She cried down the telephone
“Last time you got this excited was when you were being potty trained.”
Minx burst out laughing.
“Mother, I won!”
“Won what, darling?”
“I found the golden star,”
“Minx, I just returned from getting a perm at the hairdresser’s. I currently look like a bloody poodle so can you please put an end to my misery and let me know what you are screeching about,” she trilled, shaking her head in a puzzled fashion.
Minx smoothed out the newspaper so she could see the huge headline.
“Listen,” she said loudly.
Evening Bulletin
***
The lucky winner who finds The Golden Star located in an envelope in the magazine section of the Evening Bulletin shall win the prize of a lifetime. The Evening Bulletin and the Game Show have joined forces to offer the lucky winner the opportunity to spend a week with any individual of their choice.
On your behalf, we shall approach a celebrity or their representative and should they agree, The Evening Bulletin, in partnership with the Game Show will donate 10 Million Euros to a charity the celebrity chooses.
It could be you spending the week with royalty, a movie star or rock star of your fantasies, while we pick up the tab.
Are they all you imagined? Come back and tell us for an exclusive interview after your dream week. Good luck to you all!
Terms and Conditions Apply. Please read the fine print on the ba
ck of the Golden Star.
***
“Darling, will you be followed by a camera crew?” Minx switched off while her Mum launched into a rambling story about the time she applied for a spot on Big Brother. Eventually she stopped for breath and Minx seized her opportunity to reply.
“No, it’s not one of those reality TV shows. I won’t have camera’s following me into the toilet or while I take a shower.”
“That’s a relief. I certainly wouldn’t like my bridge friends gloating about watching my daughter live on television, possibly having a romp.”
“Mother, of course not,” Minx squealed and shook her head.
“Have you thought about the person you are going to choose?”
“I’m going to spend tonight thinking about it, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Mummy,” said Minx.
“Congratulations, Minx. Goodnight,” said her mother, hanging up the phone.
Minx sat very still, examining the Golden Star ticket. It was made from a sheet of pure gold hammered into the shape of a glimmering star. Minx took several deep breaths as a slow and marvellous smile spread over her face and she proceeded to dial the telephone number listed on the back of the golden star.
Chapter Two
The sun was shining brightly the following morning but the air was still ice-cold as a swarm of photographers and journalists camped outside her apartment. Minx could not believe they had tracked her down already. They all wanted to get the full story for the front pages of the afternoon papers. For several hours there was pandemonium outside the apartment.
Minx slipped on a dazzling print geometric jumpsuit with a Karl Lagerfeld leather corset belt and skyscraper Louboutins. Minx indulged in two slices of toast with sprinkled cheese and a coffee.
She grabbed her coat and designer handbag and left her apartment wearing minimal makeup and Gucci sunglasses to attend a photo shoot. Minx was the face of a new range of makeup and was participating in a lavish advertising campaign. She waved to the cameras and brushed past the waiting press swamping her with questions. Minx hopped into a slick Aston Martin waiting outside to drive her to her assignment.
Minx crossed her enviably toned legs and picked up her tinkling mobile as the Aston Martin sped through the city.
“Hello Darling,”
“Is it true?”
“Yes Mary, who told you?”
“I just saw a photo of you on bloody SKY news,” she yelled down the phone.
“The media certainly work fast,” Minx giggled.
“Everyone is talking about it. Have you thought about whom you want to spend the week with?”
“I rang the Game Show this morning. I thought about it all last night. It has to be my teenage crush, the elusive, mysterious Stanley Marx,” Minx said, turning her attention to a roasted peanut and caramel chocolate Snickers bar.
This news was greeted by a minute silence at the other end of the phone.
“Are you kidding? You can choose royalty, a movie star, a rock star and you choose the billionaire business mogul and ageing Stanley Marx? He hasn’t been seen in Public in over ten years. Stanley Marx is a notorious recluse. He lives in complete seclusion since his three-year-old son and wife died in a car accident, There is no way he’s going to agree. He bowed out of living years ago,” her eyes were wide with surprise.
“He’s never given an interview about what happened that fateful night. I heard he was driving the car. I’m a budding journalist and that would be the interview of a lifetime. It would be the most exhilarating adventure,” she said, her ice-blue eyes alight with excitement. Minx looked like a fragile child.
“Moving on from an experience like that is tough. I read he was tormented with grief and cut everyone out of his life. The papers say he fires all his staff every year,” Mary said closing her eyes and shaking her head.
“Stanley Marx is one of Hollywood’s most intriguing and perplexing figures of the 20th century. He is also one of the world’s richest men. Before he got married, he was a renowned womaniser and owned half of Hollywood. He’s a living legend and I’d love to spend a week with him,” Minx declared, giddy with joy.
“I know he went to Cambridge University to study law, after graduating he moved into film directing, shipping and property development. No leading lady was able to resist him. He broke up countless marriages,” giggled Mary, twirling her hair around her manicured nails.
“I’ve arrived at the photo shoot, darling. This will be the last modelling assignment I can do for a few weeks. I have to embark on a blitz of publicity for the Game Show. Call you later,” said Minx as the Aston Martin ground to a halt and the driver stepped out to open the car door for Minx.
“I understand, Bye darling,” said Mary, hanging up.
***
The elevator pinged to a halt at the third floor of the grey building and Minx walked out to the crew clapping and cheering. Her cheeks heated at the sight of the crowd. The excitement was tremendous. Ten people clustered around Minx. Everyone wanted to get a look at the golden star and the lucky finder.
“Can we see the golden star?” somebody shouted. “What celebrity are you going to spend a week with?”
“When will it be?” someone else shouted. “Will it be televised?”
“I bought three hundred copies of the Evening Bulletin and I found nothing,” a makeup artist shouted enviously.
Minx stood still and felt dizzy from the constant attention. She wished Mary was here to take control of the photo shoot.
“Come on, guys,” she shouted, “Let’s get to work and I’ll tell you all about it.” Minx had a gift of making people feel at ease, smoothing things over and making sure a fashion show or photo shoot ran seamlessly.
***
Chapter Three
The producer of the Game Show, Mitch Cooper telephoned Minx that evening, as she sat by the black counter in her minimal stainless steel kitchen. The contemporary kitchen looked sleek and modern, teamed with bright painted yellows walls and vanilla coloured cupboards.
“Honey, we are as surprised as you are. Are you sitting down?”
“I sure am,” said Minx munching on a ketchup-drenched chip before taking a sip from a strawberry milkshake.
“We are in shock, but we talked to his agent and because it’s for charity, the notoriously reclusive Stanley Marx has agreed,” he hollered down the phone in excitement. Mitch Cooper was fully aware that an interview with Stanley Marx would cause their show’s ratings to explode. Their Game show and the Evening Bulletin had the potential to make a profit of millions.
“The business magnate, Stanley Marx had not been seen in public in ten years,” he continued, his voice tight with exhilaration, “This could be the media scoop of the year.”
“That is great news,” she gushed and gave a beaming smile, “When do I need to start packing?”
***
The big day finally arrived. Minx Valour arrived at the offices of the Game show to meet the staff before getting escorted to the airport. She looked stunning in virginal white. The lighting in the contemporary office was soft and pleasant.
The host of the Game show, Teddy Wellington arrived to greet Minx. His eyes were sparkling with fun and laughter. He reminded Minx Valour of a chunky squirrel in the quickness of his movements. He spread his arms wide to meet Minx and gave her a giant hug.
“Congratulations, my dear, Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” said Minx giggling. Teddy was just as excited as everybody else.
“I hope you are prepared for a television interview after the week. I’ll be asking about all the sordid details. You need to find out as much as you can about the man. Who is Stanley Marx? He is such an enigma. Have a good flight and try to find out what happened on that fateful night ten years ago,” he said in a high-pitched voice, clapping her on the back.
“Of course,” Minx said politely and watched Teddy stride down the corridor with a trail of staff trotting after him.
The Game Show driver pic
ked up her suitcase and directed Minx towards a Mercedes. She waved goodbye to the remaining team from the Game Show and stepped into the back of the sleek black car. She inhaled sharply and sank into the reclining electric leather seat. Minx Valour felt like royalty as she glided towards the airport. She shut her eyes and felt the morning sun shining through the window warm her pale skin.
***
Twelve hours later, Minx Valour arrived at St Lucia, a small, lush tropical gem of an island, where she was greeted by Stanley Marx’s assistant, Jake. He was the only person that had worked for Stanley Marx longer than five years. Stanley trusted Jake and admired his directness. Jake looked a bit like an overstuffed sausage, but he had a pleasing face with dark curly hair, olive skin and a strong Australian accent.
“Minx Valour?”
“Yes, “said Minx, shaking his hand and examining his face. It was certainly like at first sight. He seemed an open, honest man with a pleasant nature. She liked the way his cute eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Come with me,” he said grabbing her suitcase and directing Minx towards a nearby open top Wrangler Jeep.
Minx desperately wanted to explore the natural beauty spots on the Island. It looked like an exclusive haven of peace and serenity.
“Have we far to go?”
“Not too far. We just have a 40-minute journey to Stanley’s private Island.”
Minx let out a squeal of delight that drew a grin from Jake.
“Are there any other occupants on the Island?”
“It’s just Stanley and his staff. It’s paradise. Stanley lives in a sprawling mansion complete with stables, private pier and an infinity pool. I live in the manager’s residence, the original cottage of the island. I’m his personal assistant and I’m in charge of the staff.”
“Are you nervous?” He added.
“No,” she hesitated. Minx Valour was feeling in equal parts nervous and excited.
“You should be,” he said laughing heartily as he revved up the engine.
Minx spent the rest of the journey admiring the splendour of the palm-fringed beaches, colourful gardens, scenic rolling hills and orchards of banana, coconut and papaya trees.
The Solitary Billionaire Page 1
