The Billionaire’s Lighthouse Series: A Billionaire, Bad Boy, Romance

by Michelle Love

  His light blue eyes twinkle as he looks at me then jots down something. “So what was it she was wearing again?”

  “I told you it was a red dress. It would be easy to spot. I just don't have any hope she’ll be found alive. The waves were too high. The waters were too dangerous. I just don't have any hope.” I look at my hands and turn them over and see the welts where the ropes I held onto hours earlier left their mark.

  My mind is numb. Shock has taken me over and this man wants to talk?

  The detective looks at me hard. His lips form a straight line. His square jaw is tight as he says, “Channing, I think there's more to the story than you're telling us. We will get to the bottom of it. If you killed your wife, we will find out.”

  The numbness breaks a bit as I suddenly see what this man is thinking about me. “I did not kill my wife. Don't accuse me of that. I'm not a killer. I'm anything but a killer.”

  The detective looks down and writes some things down on the piece of paper. “You know, Channing, that's what they all say. No one is capable of murder. Not when you're sitting in a detective’s office. The fact is your wife is missing and the circumstances are odd.”

  “How long before you can declare her dead?”

  The detective looks up at me. His eyes are wide as he says, “Sure are in a hurry to get her declared dead. What's going on with that, Mr. Michaels?”

  “I don't know what's going on with that,” I tell him. “I just want closure. I don't want this to go on and on forever. I don't want that at all. If she was killed in an auto accident, she’d be declared dead right away and the closure could begin. This way, it can’t.”

  “For a man who should be crying and screaming that his wife is gone and has no idea where she is for certain. Knowing full well, she’s out in the middle of the ocean somewhere, you certainly aren't exhibiting any of the classic reactions people do when their spouse is missing at sea.”

  “I don't know what to tell you. I'm a different kind of person. One who carries all my emotions on the inside. I assure you once I get home and it all sinks in as I'm looking at all her things in our home, I’ll start bawling like a baby. You want me to videotape that for you, Detective?”

  A smile moves over his thin lips. “Yeah, won’t you go ahead and do that for me? Put on a show, Channing Michaels, put on a show for us because that's what it seems like you’ll be doing. People who’ve come into this station with missing family members are usually so inconsolable they have to be sedated. You act as if you’ve already been given something to calm you down. Have you taken anything?”

  I shake my head. “The wine had me loopy for a short amount of time then my head cleared up about the same time the storm ended. I’m just not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. I hope you find her body. I hope we can put her to rest in a decent grave. I never wanted her to be lost at sea. I never wanted any of this to happen as a matter fact. I didn't even want to go out on the sailboat this morning. I didn't want to at all. I don't know how I got talked into that.”

  “So you're saying it was her idea to go out on the boat even though there was a small craft advisory for the day? You're telling me it was her idea?” he asks me with a frown as if that’s an impossibility.

  “Yeah, it was her idea. She packed the lunch, she's the one who packed the wine. The wine I seemed to get loopy off of with only one glass. That doesn't ever happen, detective. Just so you know, I’m not a lightweight. And I drink things much stronger than a glass of red wine.”

  “You're saying you were drunk? You didn't tell us that before.” His eyes go even more narrow as he looks at me hard. “How come you didn't tell anyone you were drunk when this all happened, Channing?”

  “I was sober by the time I got back to the boat dock at the marina. I really never thought I was drunk. I thought I might’ve been drugged. But not drunk. So why would I tell anyone something I didn’t think?”

  “You felt you had been drugged?” he asks with skepticism laced words.

  “It was like I was drugged if you want to know the truth. I think my wife gave me some wine that was drugged for some reason. She wasn't drinking any of it. She poured a glass for herself but it was full the last time I looked at it. Then the storm hit and the bottle, the picnic basket and the glasses all went overboard.”

  “Pretty convenient, huh?” he asks as he stares me down.

  “I guess it is. I don't know. With the wind blowing so hard and the water washing over the deck with each wave, things were bound to get lost.”

  “Why didn’t you get washed over the side, Channing?”

  With a shrug, I say, “Because I was taught to tie myself onto the boat. As soon as I secured myself, I looked for my wife to secure her as well.”

  “But she was gone right?” he asks as he writes down every little word I’m saying.

  I lean forward and look at the paper. It’s impossible to read his writing. “Yeah, she was gone. I was yelling for her. The thought she might have gone inside had me looking to see if she was inside the cabin. But she wasn’t. She was nowhere. The bottle of wine was nowhere. The two glasses that were sitting on the deck were nowhere. The basket full of chicken and potato salad was nowhere to be found.”

  The detective taps his pen to his desk. “Your wife’s lifejacket was there. So everything wasn't gone.”

  “It managed to stay on board. When I moved around on the boat to look over every side, I picked it up and put it in the cabin. The weather was terrible, and I feared for my own safety as well.” I lean back in the chair, my legs suddenly cramping and my body beginning to feel the pains and aches from the physical ordeal I’ve just been through.

  “Things just don't add up, Channing Michaels.” The detective looks me over.

  “They do add up,” I say. “There was a storm. The water got really bad. She was swept overboard. End of story. There are plenty like that when you’re talking about people who have been lost at sea. Many, many stories like that, Detective.”

  Leaning back, he puts his hands behind his head. “Until we have a body, we don't have anything. So you're free to go, Channing. You may have just got away with murder.”

  Getting out of the small chair, I stretch a bit to loosen the tight muscles of my legs. “I didn't get away with anything. My wife is gone. Do you think it's going to be easy for me to live with my wife gone? She wanted to go out on the damn boat this morning. Here it is this evening and I don't have a wife anymore. I don't know where she is. She's at the bottom of the sea somewhere.”

  “Go home Channing. If you feel like getting something off your chest, here's my card. Call me. You know things always go easier with confessions,” he says with a smile.

  I take his damn card and stick in my pocket which is still damp. Then I move back as the detective looks at me and I glare at him and say, “I came here to get help and all I got were accusations. What the hell is this place? A police station or an interrogation unit?”

  “We are here to help. It sounds like Jana Michaels needed our help.” His face is stoic as he looks at me like he can see right through me.

  “She didn't need your help. She needed to have her god damn life jacket on. That's what she needed. She should have never taken it off.”

  A smile pulls the corners of his lips up. “Funny how all the money in the world can't bring her back home, isn’t it, Channing?”

  “Yeah, that's real funny, Detective.” I turn to leave.

  His words stop me. “By the way, how's your hockey team, The Skippers, doing this year?”

  “They’re actually having a very good season. The first since I bought the team two years ago. The first year they were still no good. This year, the second one, they’re picking up and winning games.”

  He taps his pen on the desk. “And that investment firm you have. How’s that going?”

  “Going great. Making money hand over fist thanks to the money my grandfather gave me. A grandfather I never even knew I had left me a million dollars. I m
anaged to get my Masters in Business. Then opened my investment firm. I make a lot of money. That’s not illegal, Detective. Being rich is not illegal.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, I know. But you'd be surprised what rich people think they can get away with.”

  “I didn't kill my wife!”

  Chapter 2

  BETH

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! Look at this, Michelle. Oh, my God! I just got an email it's from that firm, the investment firm, from The Michaels’ Investment Firm! I saw an ad on the bulletin board at college it said the owner, Channing Michaels, needs a personal assistant right away. So last week I sent in my resume and look I've got an email with an invitation to interview. My God, it’s tomorrow. Oh my, God, the interview is tomorrow! I don't have anything to wear! What am I going to wear? Oh my gosh, an interview to be Channing Michaels personal assistant! Do you know how cool this is Michelle? How cool is this?”

  Michelle pulls the earbuds out of her ears and looks at me. “Huh?”

  “God! Didn't you listen to anything I said?”

  “No, Beth. I was listening to music while I try to wake up. It’s early you know. On a Sunday at that. You should still be asleep. What's going on with you?” She rolls over on her stomach and lays across her bed. The T-shirt she slept in is gathered around her waist and her tiny panties that leave nothing to the imagination show.

  But who am I to talk, I’m sitting here in my bra and panties.

  We share a dorm and she’s been my roomie since freshman year. We’re in our last semester. I’m about to graduate with my Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration in just a few months.

  With a glare, I say, “Forget it! God! Anyway, you have anything I can wear to this interview tomorrow?”

  Taking interest, she sits up. “You have an interview tomorrow? To do what?”

  “Oh, my God, Michelle! I want to kill you!” She has me so exasperated.

  Her dark eyes roll. “God, yourself. And I don’t see what the problem is. So you have an interview. Big whoop. You look like you’re about to win the fucking lottery, Beth. Not do an interview for a job.”

  Getting up from the chair in front of my desk, I throw my hands up in the air and begin to pace. “I just told you I have an interview at the investment firm. Channing Michaels’ investment firm, to be his personal assistant. You know, the billionaire, Channing Michaels, the guy who owns that hockey team, The Skippers? That Channing Michaels. The gorgeous, hot, muscles upon muscles, Channing Michaels. Who just recently lost his wife in a tragic boating accident, Channing Michaels. That billionaire guy!”

  Michelle jumps up. “That guy! You have an interview to be the assistant to that gorgeous son of a bitch?”

  Finally, she gets it! “Yeah. So help me pick out something nice to wear tomorrow for the interview. I want to look nice.”

  She moves to the small closet we have to share and looks over her shoulder at me. “Of course, you have to look nice. That man is one gorgeous piece of man-meat! You have to look to die for, Beth.”

  I sigh and go to sit back down as my head is getting a little buzzy. “Yeah. I got it, the gorgeous thing, okay. He’s gorgeous. He’s tall. Like six foot something, I read once about him in a magazine. I don't want to get my head wrapped around that. I don't want to go into the interview and act like a little schoolgirl with a big crush on the big hot billionaire man. I want to go in like a professional. Like the professional one day, I hope I am.”

  “Good luck with that,” she says as she laughs.

  Looking in the mirror at my drab brown hair, I ask, “Should I go get my hair and nails done?”

  Michelle rolls her eyes. “Yes, of course, you should. We’re talking, Channing Michaels here, Beth. Not some old dude. He’s hot and wealthy and available.”

  Running my hands through my long hair as I look in the mirror, I say, “My God, what if I really get the job? Michelle, what if I really do get the job?”

  She comes and stands behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Maybe you’ll become the next Mrs. Michaels!”

  With a slap to her hand, I say, “Shut up! I'm just looking for the job not trying to marry the man. My God, he just lost his wife!”

  Michelle looks over her shoulder as if what she’s about to say is top secret or something then she looks back at me through the mirror. “Did you hear about that? I mean did you really hear about that? It was on the news and stuff. You know they’re kind of blaming him.”

  I nod. “I did hear they were kind of blaming him. But I also heard him say he didn't do it. I would have to believe him. Hopefully, he’ll be my new employer someday really soon. I don't want to have the thought in my head running around that he did kill his wife.”

  “But what if he did?” she asks turning me to look dead in her eyes.

  “I don't care.” And I mean that. In a way. “All I care about is making money. As his personal assistant, I would guess that comes with a pretty nice paycheck.”

  Michelle nods and walks back to the closet. “You would think, wouldn’t you?”

  With a shrug of my shoulders, I say, “Well, even if it doesn't, the experience would be all worth it. Don’t you think?”

  She pulls out a nice blue business suit then hangs it right back up. “That, plus you get to hang out with one gorgeous dude. Like all day long and shit!”

  Looking at my face very closely in the mirror I find myself lacking that basic sex appeal so many women have. “If I’m going to have to be walking around next to that man I have to up my game, Michelle. Help me!”

  She turns and gives me a nod. “Let’s grab the beauty queen, Shelby, and run by your parents’ house and pick up the emergency credit card and get to shopping. New make-up, hair, and wardrobe are needed, STAT!”

  I laugh. “What does STAT even stand for, Michelle?”

  “Stop Talking And Take off. I think that’s what it means, anyway,” she says as she pulls on a pair of jeans. “I’m not in the medical profession, Beth. I’m going to be an accountant. Don’t ask me questions at a time like this. We have to get you all gorgeous so the man can’t tell you, no. Then maybe you can get me and Shelby jobs there when we graduate.”

  “I see now,” I say as I grab a sundress out of the closet and pull it over my head. “You’re going to use me. Oh, well. At least you’re honest about it.”

  “Yeah,” she says as she pulls her Converse sneakers on. “I could be all sneaky behind your back, but I’m an upfront bitch like that.”

  Pulling up the Miami news on my laptop, I look up the information about the missing women, Jana Michaels. She went overboard during a small storm a month ago. Channing was never formally accused of her disappearance. Her body hasn’t been found and many believe it will never be now that it’s been so long.

  I wonder how he’s taking the whole thing. He has to be a mess about it all.

  He had to have loved her. She was his wife. The report said they had been together for a year then married for a year. So he spent the last two years with her. He had to have loved her.

  There was a part in the story that explained how he got so rich. He came from a normal family. A mother but no father. They lived with her parents and she never married for some reason.

  One day he got a letter when he was only eighteen. His paternal grandfather had left him a million dollars. He met his real father then.

  A man named Morgan Riley, and that man was never going to claim Channing. That man was not happy with the fact his father had left Channing money.

  The fact is Channing managed to make a hell of a lot of money out of the million and Morgan Riley is swimming in debt even though he was raised by wealthy parents, both of which are deceased.

  Poor, Channing Michaels.

  He found his father only to have him hate him.

  Jana was five years older than Channing who is thirty-five now. She looked great, though. Her pictures show her with long, blonde hair and deep blue eyes. A real looker, I suppose one would say about h
er.

  A picture pops up of Channing and Jana at some social gala. He’s devastating in a black tux and she’s elegant looking in a long, black evening gown. Diamonds sparkle around her long neck and dangle from her earlobes.

  But Channing’s face is grim. Though Jana smiles at the camera, he looks like he wanted to be anywhere but there with her.

  His arm is loose around her thin waist. She’s so much thinner than I am. So much more beautiful than I am. So much more elegant.

  I shake my head. I’m not trying to get the man, just the job!

  But what would it be like to be the one on his arm? What is he really like in person? Will I like him or hate him? Will he like me or send me on my way without the job?

  I cross my fingers and say a little prayer.

  I want the job. There is no question in my mind. I want the job, badly.

  Here’s to hoping for favorable winds tomorrow…

  Chapter 3

  CHANNING

  My mood is black as I wait for the third interview of the morning for a replacement for Rene, the woman who’s been my personal assistant for the last five years. Who also happened to be my wife’s best friend.

  That’s who introduced us to each other and suggested we’d make a good match.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong!

  Rene is on team Lori. That’s Jana’s younger sister. She’s twenty-three and thinks she knows everything. Like she thinks she knows I killed my wife. Jana’s parents are divided about me.

  Her mother is more on my side and her father is on the fence. If they only knew the truth about their daughter and what kind of shit she did to me they wouldn’t be so quick to judge me.

  The cell phone on my desk lights up and I see the one man who I least wish to talk to is calling me. My father. A man I never knew about until I was eighteen and he came to ask for his father’s money back.

  Which I did not give him. Which made him furious at me. Which I did not care one little bit about.