by Aria Ford
“What’s smoother than a book deal in two weeks?”
“Being a bestselling self-published author in days.”
“I suppose that I could push it to the online market and make it available on e-readers,” she said.
He could hear the faint sound of her laptop being turned on. He swung his legs out and ignored the woozy sensation that came with it. He sat upright and said, “Sure. In addition to that, you’ll let me post a review of your book on my blog.”
Francesca gasped.
“And I’ll pay to have a few thousand copies published in print soon after, and then I’ll put them in some independent bookstores.”
“I never expected you to do any of this, you know.”
He chuckled; his eyes searched the room for the rum bottle. “I’m not offended that you’re an opportunistic woman, Francesca. You went after what you want, and you might just get it; along with a horny old man for good measure.”
She giggled. “You’re not that old Adam. Horny, yes. Old, not so much.”
“Would you like to come over after I make the post on my blog? We can watch your explosion into the literary world together.”
“Yes. Absolutely. It’s better than watching Sal checking his ex’s profiles online to see if they’re single on Christmas too.”
Sal’s muffled complaint could be heard in the background, “It’s healthy, it is a normal thing to do, it will help me pick a better partner in the future!”
Adam rolled his eyes as he swished some more rum around on his tongue. “Get over here.”
Chapter 9
Adam sighed as he sipped on his unusually sweet choice of coffee. He decided that he may as well try a fancy coffee to shake him out of the funk he was sliding into as classes resumed.
He wiped a bead of chocolatey liquid off of his lip and Dean Green nodded at him as he power-walked down the hall. Adam nodded back, but Dean Green turned around and fell into step beside him.
“Good morning, Professor Houston.”
“Good morning, Dean. How was your Christmas?”
“It was wonderful, we got my daughter a puppy but she decided that a Yorkie just wouldn’t do and we had to exchange the poor thing for a Labrador.”
“That’s a shame,” Adam replied.
They walked into Adam’s classroom and Adam set his things down on his desk. He gestured at his coffee cup. “You ever try this from the campus store? It’s like a hot chocolate but they put three coffees worth of caffeine in it.”
“I’m not here to talk about coffee, Adam. I’m actually here to talk about Professor Reynolds.”
Adam nodded and sat in his chair. “Is that right? Well, what about her?” He grinned as he looked into Dean Green’s eyes.
“Well, some photos have been brought to my attention by a staff member-”
“Do you mean Professor Scylla?”
“I am not at liberty to say who they were from. Suffice it to say that they were very intimate photos of the both of you. You spent the holidays together?”
“Professor Martin and Professor Loney golf together each spring, what’s wrong with spending the holidays with a colleague and their roommate when you’re new to the city?”
Dean Green grunted in frustration. “The problem-” he took out his phone and his screen lit up as he searched for the evidence he was talking about. “The problem is when photos like these make it on a social media site, especially where other members of my faculty can see them.”
Damn it, Sal, Adam thought. The photo was of himself and Francesca under the mistletoe, Francesca was snuggled up in a bright red Christmas sweater, her tongue firmly planted in his Adam’s mouth.
Adam scratched at his beard and asked, “What would you like me to do about this?”
“Cut off whatever it is that you guys are calling this. Normally, I would even consider suspending a professor that had done something this inappropriate, but you’re valuable to this university.”
Adam smiled. “That’s right. I am. It’s almost like I’ve given this school a generous donation of half a million dollars that you know would only grow if I put some years in here. If I received tenure, you could probably afford to remodel half the buildings.”
“This isn’t about your donations, this is about how students really value your lectures,” Dean Green retorted.
Adam hummed in agreement. “And when students value my classes and they grow in popularity, what does that do for the university? The classes certainly aren’t being held for free, are you following, Dean?”
“What are you saying, that you’ll resign? Are you threatening me?”
Adam laughed. “I don’t think that I need to go that far. However, I know that Professor Reynolds and I will be fine. You’re going to tell Professor Scylla that you’ve handled the matter and that will be the end of it.”
The first few students started to trickle in.
“I have to teach class now, Dean. Are we done here?”
Dean Green’s face contorted into an angry, red tomato. “It would seem that way. Enjoy your class.” He left out of the teacher’s exit and the door slammed behind him.
A few students peered at the situation curiously and Adam waved them off. “Nothing to see here folks.”
*****
“Holy shit.” Francesca said as she folded her legs to comfortably seat her laptop on her lap. Her bedroom was dark and she had been hunched over the computer for three days now. Sal had tried and tried to get her to come out for fresh air and a shower, but she only indulged his company once to say, “Take that damn picture of Adam and me off of your page!”
She had watched for three days, as the comments and new posts rolled in about Dream Catcher. Adam had been right. His clever and eye-catching post about the book had captured the attention of thousands of his blog’s followers. By the time the eBook royalties paid out, there would be an additional $3,000 dollars in her bank account at the rate that the digital copies were selling.
They aren’t just buying it because Adam said to. They really like me. She chewed on her fingernails and clicked through the comments, most of them showering her book with praise and asking why the author hadn’t released any other work.
Her mother, whom she spoke to sparingly, had called her and asked if she had published a book. Dream Catcher’s popularity had somehow made its way under the rock that Cynthia Reynolds inhabited in Columbus, Ohio.
I should really go to work soon, before I get fired, she thought. She had canceled class three days in a row, obsessed with her book and blogs. Though things were looking good for her future, she couldn’t afford to quit teaching just yet.****
Francesca shut the door and grinned at Adam, who was sprawled out on his sofa.
“I can’t believe this, Adam! It happened exactly how you said it would, I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me.”
He held up a hand. “You did the work, honey. I just financed spreading it around.”
She laughed in awe, and fell on the sofa next to him. She snaked a hand around his waist. “Who gave you permission to come into my life, tear it apart, and make it ten times better?”
“You did. When you approached me, you ambitious snot. Could you pour us some wine?”
She nodded and stood up, and stretched. For once, her shirt didn’t rise past her belly button. Her success with writing allowed her to finally own clothes that were nice, and not just for work. She walked over to his alcohol cabinet and pulled out a white wine in a curvaceous bottle. She held it up and asked, “Is this expensive?”
He spared a glance. “Yes. $900.”
“Good! We’re celebrating!” She slid her fingers between two champagne flutes and brought them back to the sofa.
Adam sat up and held Francesca by the waist. She passed him a flute filled with the bubbling white wine and he said, “To Dream Catcher!”
Francesca smiled and took a large gulp . “Not just Dream Catcher. To us, to life, and to my resignation at Wright.
”
Adam’s eyes became the size of saucers and he asked, “You’re going to resign?”
“I never wanted to teach. But, no one pays you to be an unpublished writer with dreams, and this was the profession that I could stand the most.”
“Wow.”
She sipped some more wine and set the glass down on the table. She swatted his thigh. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m resigning at the end of the semester, and I have valuable experience now.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Will you be resigning from anything else?”
“You’re so subtle. No, I think you’re here to stay.” Francesca filled up her glass and leaned back on the couch with him. She raised his hand to her lips and placed a small kiss on it. “I want to see where this goes.”
*********
“I’m going to pretend to be over the fact that you just moved Aislin in here once I resigned from the University.”
Sal and Aislin wore a guilty expression as the four of them sat around the table for the meal that Sal prepared.
“Hopefully this meal makes it up to you. Come on, it’s not like you wanted to spend your nights in dirty underwear in that bedroom once you quit. Especially not with him living in that gigantic apartment by himself,” Sal said, as he spooned some pasta into Adam’s bowl.
“I guess it’s the principle of the thing,” Adam said, and Francesca nodded as she stabbed her fork into her noodles.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love you, Aislin. Sal was having a really rough time bringing home girls that didn’t look like they partook in sharing heroine on the weekends.”
Aislin giggled and sipped some of the wine that Francesca and Adam had brought with them.
Sal poured himself some wine. “How’s the next book coming along?”
“Who’s book?” Adam and Francesca asked simultaneously.
“I didn’t realize you were writing again Adam,” Sal said with a wink at Francesca.
“It’s coming along great, I really love my decision to not go to a publishing house. I can talk to everyone that’s reading the books because of my blog.”
Aislin passed Francesca the basket of rolls. “How do you like living in Adam’s part of town?”
“I love it. I never thought I’d want to live in such an affluent part of New York, but I don’t have any complaints. We have enough space for Jesse to come hang out with us for a month.”
Adam finished chewing his food and said, “She’s crazy excited to meet you, she read the book, and I’ve never seen a girl more excited about her Dad’s girlfriend.”
Francesca slid her fingers between Adam’s underneath the table. “I’m excited to meet her. Hell, I’m just excited about life!” she exclaimed.
Sal chuckled. “How about a toast to us before Francesca starts bawling?” Everyone laughed as they all held up their champagne glasses.
Adam said, “To Francesca and I, to Sal and Aislin, and to Dream Catcher and the work in progress that I’m not allowed to know any details about. I’m grateful for this past year and all of the wonderful things that have come of it.”
Sal said, “I would have just said ‘to friends’ but that’s what happen when you invite writers to dinner.”
THE END
The Billionaire’s Mistress
Chapter One
Some days, it all became too much for Henry to deal with. By all means, he shouldn't have felt the way he did about his life. There should have been little cause for him to complain given what a lucky man he really was on so many levels. Yet he found himself, against all odds, finding ample opportunity to complain all the same. It had felt like ages since he'd derived any true happiness from his life or his circumstances, and although most men would have killed to be in his position, he found himself largely envying others the ability to live a happier, simpler life.
He'd been poor growing up. Very poor. Everything he now had, he'd worked for, broken his back and sweated for, and in that sense, at least, he could feel some degree of pride in his accomplishments. Starting from scratch, basically, he'd managed to build up something of an empire out of thin air. Through the sweat on his brow, the intensity of his efforts, and a dedication to securing his future, his lot in life had improved dramatically.
It hadn't been easy. Every step of the way there had been obstacles. People tried their damnedest to tell him that what he was trying to accomplish was impossible. But he'd done it anyway and proved them all wrong. He’d built up a staggering fortune, established a number of successful businesses, and had made his name known.
Gradually, his empire had risen to sublime heights, overshadowing even his own meager expectations for what he might accomplish in this life; and all before he reached the age of forty.
How different his life was now compared to what it had been when he was growing up. He could never have imagined that one day, he would be living in a vast, sprawling mansion on a private slice of land that was as green and as wonderful as anything he’d ever seen. His garage was be packed with multiple luxury vehicles; most of them more trophies than anything he actually used, given that a chauffeur frequently brought him from one location to another throughout the course of his busy days. He never would have guessed that he would end up married to a supermodel some thirteen years his junior, an absolutely stunning blonde bombshell who graced the covers of magazines. Nor had he envisioned himself ever being able to purchase for her such an expensive diamond ring, of the finest cut and color. But perhaps least of all, Henry had never expected that all of this- the vast mansion, the fleet of vehicles, the trophy wife, and his fortune in general- would leave him feeling drained and empty, wholly unfulfilled and questioning as to why the hell he'd ever wanted this all to begin with.
It seemed so irrational to him, and he knew that feeling this way was crazy. It was ungrateful of him not to appreciate how very, very lucky he'd gotten in this golden land of opportunity. Try as he may, however, he seemed incapable of convincing himself that all that glittered was gold. There seemed to be something of the utmost significance missing from his life. As a billionaire, he should reasonably have been able to acquire whatever his heart desired in the service of self-gratification, and the fact that he seemed unable to satisfy himself despite his resources seemed absurd to say the least.
Still, he felt so stifled by everything in his life. He was so embroiled in business affairs at the moment, involved in so many delicate deals and trades; some of which had involved his own personal assets and assumed a relatively dangerous risk. His days were packed with activity from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, to the moment his head hit the pillow again at night. By the time the day was over, he frequently felt bone-weary , but the amount of sleep allotted to him during these hyperactive days seemed to be growing more and more scarce. Even when he had the free hours with which to refresh himself, sleep seemed to elude him entirely, tormenting him.
What was more, his wife, the woman any man would have loved to be able to claim as his mate, had gradually become yet another bane of his existence. Her personality was not at all of a corresponding attractiveness to her physical appearance, and he was gradually coming to see that more and more as the years spent with her rolled along.
When they’d first met, she had seemed as sweet as honey in every way. He'd met her at one of her shows, after he'd watched her traipse along majestically down the catwalk, strutting her hypnotic feminine assets, making him drool for her. Her very appearance had had an effect upon him that was intoxicating, and it brought down his guard. Normally, he was so in control, so composed, and he never let anyone strike him so deeply to his emotional core as this woman seemed to do.
Yet somehow, she'd managed the impossible, seducing him out of his good sense, and without even seeming to try in the process. It had all seemed so effortless on her part, and he'd allowed himself to fall so easily into her snare, regardless of whether or not its setting had been intentional on her part. He'd kept thinking, all throughout the c
ourse of her showcasing her finery on the runway, that her eyes were looking directly into him out there in the audience. Rationally, he'd known, this was very unlikely. The stage was over-lit to the point of blinding the models, and the audience was bathed in shadow, so that picking out individual faces should have proved impossible.
But that didn't at all stop him from fantasizing, from believing what he wanted to believe, or from allowing himself to be fooled, to be swept up in those eyes. The characteristics that made him a smart businessman and a successful human being, all flushed down the drain.
Through some effort, he'd managed to make Ashley's acquaintance through some mutual connections at an after party following the show. He'd been even more taken in by her in person than he had watching from afar, her every movement fascinating to him, and her demeanor one that evoked sheer, sweet innocence. She had the most charming accent, one which made her voice seem almost excessively warm and friendly, and the way she seemed to eat out of his hand was gratifying, to say the least. She had laughed delightedly at anything and everything that happened to pass from his lips, stared intensely into his eyes as he spoke. She flirted shamelessly- pushing her breasts together in a way that tempted him fiercely to gawk down into her cleavage, letting her leg graze gently up against him beneath the table. She had quite literally made him sweat. And Henry didn’t sweat.
In all likelihood, his reputation had preceded him, and she had known damn well what his station was in life. What girl of her type wouldn't try to present herself as especially cozy and romantic in the presence of a well-known billionaire, particularly when that billionaire seemed to express as much unmistakable interest in her as Henry was shamelessly doing? Hell, for that matter, there was even a nagging voice in the back of his mind that tended to speculate as to the question of whether she presented this same self to any affluent man who showered her with such attention. Surely, he couldn't be unique in that regard, and by now she'd become so accustomed to putting on this act that it appeared seamless to all those who had yet to witness it firsthand.
