“Gosh, sorry, I really went on,” Ellie said.
“No, not at all,” Blake replied, feeling as if they had been talking for a matter of minutes. When he checked his watch his jaw almost hit the floor. Over two hours had passed since they’d entered the room. “Wait, is that right? Were we really talking all that time?”
“You weren’t,” she said. “I was. I don’t know when to stop.”
Never, thought Blake. You never have to stop.
“That was amazing,” Blake said. “I mean, really. This is all your work?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve been working on it for ages. For years, really. It’s where my heart has been.”
“I can tell,” said Blake. “It’s so you, so naturally brilliant. It’s like all those wonderful thoughts have just spilled out of your beautiful head and…”
Blake choked on his words. You said it, you idiot! his brain yelled, and he gasped for a way to cover his tracks.
“I mean…” was as far as he got before Ellie started laughing.
“You’re funny,” she said. “Thanks for being nice.”
For what felt like a small eternity they looked at each other, their unspoken thoughts hanging between them like the little specks of dust floating in the sunlight.
“Oh, don’t you have a meeting?” Ellie suddenly said.
“Oh!” Blake exclaimed, checking his watch again. “Right!”
How had he managed to forget? Once again Ellie had pushed all the bad thoughts out of his head, she’d pulled him out of the forest fire of his life like a rescue helicopter. As good as it had been, though, he was in real danger of missing his meeting with Andrew, and that was his best shot at getting to the bottom of what had happened to him. He couldn’t afford to let anyone get in the way, even if it was the most beautiful and intelligent and wonderful woman he’d met in a long time—maybe his whole life.
“I’d better run,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Ellie replied. “Really, go.”
Work comes first, he thought. Work has to come first. There’s no time for romance.
And it was true, which is why he was so surprised to hear himself say:
“Will you come with me?”
14
Ellie felt as if she was riding a roller coaster, with each new minute bringing an unexpected twist or a breathtaking loop-the-loop.
What is happening? she had to ask herself as she walked by Blake’s side, down the sweeping staircase of the library and out of the main doors. She couldn’t believe she’d talked his ear off for so long about LifeWrite, and she couldn’t believe that he’d listened to it all without looking at his watch and yawning dramatically and making an excuse to leave—which is what Josh had always done. Most of all she couldn’t believe he seemed genuinely interested, and it had been a genuine interest. His questions had all been intelligent and curious, his comments insightful. He’d heard every single word she had said. The whole thing had been literally unbelievable, yet here she was, walking out of her favorite building with her new favorite person.
He might have been her favorite person, but she was certainly the only person in the Blake Fielding fan club at the moment. Even though he was in disguise, his glasses back on his handsome face, people were starting to notice him. Part of that was his natural charisma. He seemed to exude confidence and strength—not in an arrogant City way, like some of the rich people she knew in passing, but in a benevolent and reassuring way. Her mom had always said that kind people radiated light and goodness, no matter what they looked like, and Blake was practically glowing like a beacon.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that he looked like a model, too. Anyone with Blake’s face and Blake’s physique would draw attention.
But some of the stares were sour and unkind, and not just those directed at him. Ellie was picking up a few glares, especially from women, and as they strolled onto the sidewalk she started to wonder how many of the people around her had watched the video of the incident in the bar. When she’d checked this morning it had had over a million views, made viral by a Buzzfeed post, so it stood to reason that at least one of the people in the immediate vicinity knew who she was, and who she’d been having coffee with.
Luckily they didn’t have to go far. A few seconds after they’d left the building a huge, shark-like Mercedes-Maybach purred to a halt in front of them. Blake opened the back door and she climbed inside, breathing in the pleasant new car smell of leather and polish. The interior of the vehicle took her breath away, it was like business class in an airplane—not that she’d ever been in business class, other than walking through it to get to the cattle stalls at the back of the plane. There were TVs and phones and crystal glasses, and even a cushion on her quilted chair.
“It’s a little much,” said Blake, apologetically. He waited for her to sit down then closed her door, appearing a few seconds later on the other side of the car. A few people on the sidewalk had worked out who he was and Ellie could hear a few jeers, cut off abruptly as he shut the door. Thanks Alfie,” he said to the young man at the wheel. “Better put your foot down before they start throwing bricks.”
“Yes, sir,” said Alfie, and the car moved off with so much power that Ellie felt her insides tumble.
Just another twist on the roller coaster, she thought.
The driver obviously knew where they were going. Blake leaned back in his chair and stared at the crowds outside the window. After a moment he turned to her.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I didn’t mean to ask you, I just…”
“It’s fine,” she said, seeing that he was struggling for words. “I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to help.”
“The truth is, I feel happier that you’re here,” he said, and she felt the engine of her heart start to rev just as hard as the Maybach’s. “For so long now the only people I’ve had around me have been work people—other than mom, of course. No true friends, nobody I really trusted. Even Michelle…”
He glanced at the driver, leaning in so that he could speak more quietly. She leaned in too, feeling like she’d been away from him for too long, as if she had been swimming underwater and just come up for air. What was it about him that made her feel so alive?
“Even with Michelle I never really knew what she wanted from me. Now I know it was power. I should have seen it earlier. But with you.” He paused, studying her with his deep, blue eyes in a way that made her feel truly seen. “You don’t judge, you’re not using me—at least, I don’t think you are.”
“Of course not,” Ellie replied, her pulse thrashing in her voice. “I would never do that.”
“I know,” he said. “You make me feel strong.”
“You are,” she said.
“You make me feel like I can get through this.”
He was closer than ever, and so was she.
“You can,” she said.
Another aching moment of silence, then Ellie felt the car slow to a halt.
“Here we are,” said Alfie. “You want me to wait?”
“Thank you,” said Blake, sitting up straight. Ellie did too, wishing that the ride to the meeting had been an hour long, rather than just a few minutes. They were on a street of apartment buildings, hardly any pedestrians on the sidewalk. “You don’t have to come in, if you don’t want to?”
“I can,” she said. “If you want me to.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
He opened his door, then looked back at her.
“Just, you know, don’t tell anyone what you hear inside. Corporate secrets and all.”
Ellie opened her door, wondering what she was getting herself into. Being seen drinking coffee with disgraced billionaire Blake Fielding was one thing, but being seen attending an official meeting with him would certainly cause people to ask questions—questions she had no idea how she would answer.
He appeared next to her, a gentle hand on her elbow to steer her around the back of the car ont
o the sidewalk. They were standing outside the entrance to a twelve-storey building, the doorman already holding the door open for them. Blake didn’t move, he just stood there for a moment as if composing himself. Once again Ellie was struck by how strong he looked—even in jeans and a polo shirt there was something so compelling about him, so powerful. But that vulnerability was there, just beneath the surface. He was scared, she knew, and the thought of it attracted her to him with even greater magnitude.
I’m here as his friend, Ellie told herself. Nothing else.
She caught his eye, nodded to him, and he seemed to draw strength from it.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
They walked into the lobby side by side, Blake announcing them both to the receptionist. They were told to head straight up, and Blake pressed 8 on the elevator, standing to one side so she could enter first.
“Andrew’s a good friend,” he said. “But he’s a little on the weird side, just to warn you.”
“Thanks,” Ellie said. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I can wait in the lobby?”
“No, it’s fine,” Blake said. He looked like he was going to say more, but the elevator pinged and the doors opened to a short corridor with four doors. One was already open, a middle-aged man standing in it. He was almost completely bald, a halo of curly brown hair encircling the shiny dome of his scalp, his goatee beard a perfect mirror image. He was dressed in a Greenday T-shirt and purple boxer shorts.
“Blake!” he said in a strong Brooklyn accent. “Dude, if you’d told me you were bringing a princess I’d have put on my pants!”
Ellie spluttered a laugh as Blake led her to the door.
“Andrew, Ellie, Ellie, Andrew. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’m hardly a princess,” Ellie said. Andrew offered his hand, pumping Ellie’s with almost painful enthusiasm.
“Hey, I say what I see,” he said. “And I see royalty. Come on in, tea’s in the pot.”
They followed Andrew into a large, light-soaked, open-plan apartment. A woman was sitting on one of the sofas, her head wrapped in a colourful silk scarf. She looked at Ellie, then at Blake, her laughter lines crinkling as she smiled fondly. She stood, walking slowly across the room and leaning up so that she could gather Blake into her arms.
“Darling Blake,” she said. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?”
“Not so good,” he said when she’d let him go. “It hasn’t been the best couple of days. More importantly, how are you feeling?”
“Wonderful,” she said. “Thanks to you.”
“Still free and clear,” said Andrew, wrapping his hands around his wife and kissing the back of her neck. “Brother, you gave us so much.”
“I gave you what anyone would,” he said. “You’re good people. Sophie, this is Ellie.”
Sophie smiled, her eyes twinkling. She elbowed Blake and he laughed.
“She’s a friend,” he said. “She’s just, uh, helping me out.”
“We’re friends,” Ellie echoed, letting Sophie hug her. “We’ve only just met, actually.”
“So why do you seem like you’ve been dating for a few years?” Andrew said.
“Old souls,” said Sophie, taking Ellie’s hand. “I can always see them.”
Ellie laughed, feeling herself blush. She was grateful that Blake’s cheeks had turned crimson as well, and when he caught her eye he started laughing as well.
“Well, this is awkward,” he said.
“But that’s just it,” said Sophie. “It doesn’t seem awkward at all.”
“Come on,” said Andrew. “Before Blake cringes so much he shrivels into the carpet. This way, my friends.”
He led them into a large office, three huge screens sitting on a curved, beech desk.
“Sorry,” whispered Blake, but Ellie just smiled. Sophie’s words were buzzing inside her skull. It doesn’t seem awkward at all. She’d hit the nail on the head—that’s exactly how Ellie felt, like she and Blake were old souls who had known each other forever. The way they spoke with each other, the ease of their conversations, their surprising and, she was sure, mutual attraction. It seemed too deep, too intense for two people who had only just met. It was like something from a fairy tale.
But fairy tales aren’t real, she said. Happy endings aren’t real. Not for people like me.
“Please, sit,” said Andrew. “Make yourselves at home. I’ll be right back.”
He scampered from the room, and Ellie perched on an office chair. Blake sat next to her, running a hand through his mess of thick, dark hair. He looked almost pained.
“I forgot just how weird he was,” he said.
“They’re lovely,” Ellie replied. “Good people, you can tell.”
“The best,” said Blake. “Even though they don’t always wear pants.”
“Good people without pants are still good people,” Ellie said, laughing. She was about to ask what they had been talking about in the living room when Andrew came back into the office.
“Pants are overrated,” he said. Fortunately, he was now wearing some—green combat slacks with bulging pockets. He slid into his chair, spinning it around so that he was facing Blake and Ellie. His smile had vanished, and he looked dead serious. “You’re in trouble, Blake. This whole business smells rotten.”
“It is,” Blake said. “You know it wasn’t me who—”
Andrew held up a hand.
“I know, I know. Nothing in the universe would ever convince me that you had anything to do with this. I’ve seen few people in my life who treat women—who treat anyone—with the respect that you do. God bless your mom, she brought you up right.”
“Thank you,” said Blake.
“Which is why I was so surprised to discover that you did it,” Andrew said. Ellie’s heart lurched, and Blake gasped. Somehow, his hand found its way into hers and she held it tight.
“No,” said Blake.
“Not you, but your computers,” said Andrew.
“That’s impossible,” said Blake. “The hack has to have come from outside. David says he’s looking at Eastern Europe, maybe Russia. Maybe even a fledgling social network looking to take down Heartbook. Maybe even some crazy—”
Andrew was holding his hand up again, and Blake’s words petered out. Andrew wheeled his chair to one side, showing them the TV sized flatscreen. On it was a bunch of code, and Ellie scrolled through it. Some of it was familiar PHP and XHP, but most was too advanced for her to make any sense of.
“I got started as soon as you called,” said Andrew. “I still have the old backdoor, Agnes and Maurice never knew about it. The servers record every post, every tiny piece of data entered into Heartbook—even data that you write and delete without posting.”
Blake nodded.
“Each post has a whole tranche of data attached to it. The date, obviously, the IP address, information about the device used to post, plus everything that Heartbook already associates with that information. It knows who you are, where you are, everything.”
“Scary,” said Ellie.
“Seriously scary,” said Andrew. “But useful. Look, every single one of those horrific posts on your page came from you.” Blake leaned in, the color draining from his face. “From your cellphone, from your laptop at work, from your desktop at home. The devices match, the passwords match, the IP addresses match. Most importantly the dates match. The first post is from eight months ago. The last was yesterday morning.”
“But it’s all fake, the dates have to have been manipulated,” said Blake. Ellie was still holding his hand and he wasn’t making any effort to pull free. Andrew shook his head.
“That’s impossible. Whoever did this was smart. The time stamp on these posts is cast iron, it can’t be changed, not even by somebody with a Heartbook master admin account. They’re real, they were posted in real time over the last few months, but kept private so that nobody could see them. You probably never noticed them because nobody ever comm
ented.”
“And I never really used the site,” said Blake. “It was just for show.”
“Exactly,” said Andrew. “They were like bombs, somebody left them there, ticking away, and yesterday they set them all to public and lit the fuse. Kaboom.”
Blake pulled free, standing up and pacing down the office. Ellie put her hand in her lap, her palm tingling.
“So whoever did this was playing the long game,” Blake said. “They’ve been planning this for a while. But what about the addresses? They can’t have come from my devices.”
“They did,” said Andrew. “I looked at them all. There is no way that information could have been hacked. Somebody used your machines to make these posts. But I spotted something interesting, something weird. Look at this one, uh, hang on.”
He scrolled through the code for a few seconds, then jabbed the screen so hard it wobbled on the desk.
“I quote, ‘Women shouldn’t have positions of power, it belittles the great democracy of our country, and makes a mockery of everything the founding fathers—not founding mothers—stood for.’”
Ellie felt her blood boil, not because she thought Blake might have made such a disgusting remark, but because somebody was trying to convince the world that he might have. Blake’s fury was evident too, his expression dark, his fists clenched by his side.
“According to our data, you made this comment on January 4th this year, at 3.03pm, using your cell phone from your office.”
Blake chewed over the thought, then looked up, frowning.
“But I wasn’t there,” he said.
“You weren’t,” Andrew confirmed. “You were with me, in the hospital, waiting for Sophie to come out of surgery.”
“That’s right,” said Blake. “I left my cell in the office, I completely forgot to bring it because the call for surgery was so quick. I remember thinking I should go back for it, but I didn’t because I wanted to be there when she went in.”
My Antisocial Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (My Billionaire A-Z Book 1) Page 8
