Billionaire Badboy

by Kenzie, Sophia

  Things with him were also… fine. I didn’t try punching him again, that was for sure. And he pretty much stayed clear of me. Upon his return from the Hamptons, I let him know that Ashley and I were through, and that she would no longer be writing about me. He gave me a swift pat on the back and applauded me for taking care of things.

  I hated him.

  My love life was also… fine. I calmed down a bit and stopped sleeping with women whose names I didn’t know. I know, progress. And I even settled in with a few. I entertained a handful that my father had pushed me toward. That made him happy. He was determined for me to marry someone else of stature. It was this whole American royalty kind of thing. He was just interested in finding ways to get us even more money. I didn’t understand why… there’s only so much money you can spend in a lifetime, and he had managed to make well above that.

  But I didn’t marry any of those girls. They lasted a few dates, a few parties, and a few months, but eventually they all fizzled out. There was nothing wrong with them. They were all lovely. But they weren’t Ashley.

  It was this weird thing. I knew Ashley and I weren’t getting back together. I knew I wouldn’t be hearing from her, and I knew I wouldn’t be trying to get in contact with her. And yet, I still would randomly glance at my phone to see if I had gotten a message from her.

  I never did. It broke my heart a little bit more each time I looked.

  One of the girls I dated for a time was named Ashley. That was terrible. Like really terrible. Every time she called, I felt my heart lift. Then I’d heard her voice on the other end of the line and realize that it was just that Ashley… it wasn’t MY Ashley. I wanted to talk to someone, to tell someone how I felt, how much I missed her, how my life wasn’t complete without her, but the only person I could ever talk to like that was Ashley. So I talked to her.

  Well, I wrote to her:

  Ashley,

  I just really wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I know you know this, I’m sure I’ve said it all at one time or another, but I needed to say it again.

  I'm so sorry for the way I treated you. I fucked everything up between us because I never really gave in to you, and to us. I never REALLY gave us a shot. I have always had such difficulties pinpointing my emotions, and you sort of just fell through the cracks. You just slid into an opening of me and were lost. I regret it so much.

  I knew how amazing you were, I knew how much I liked your odd, yet loving demeanor and your bubbly personality and, of course, your incredible body… Is that alright to say?

  I don't know why I never grasped that I wanted to really be with you. So many times I think about you and get so angry with myself for how I treated you. I know I'm rambling and repeating myself, but it helps it come out. You taught me that: to just say everything and then decide how you feel from all the rambling. It really helps.

  It doesn't make up for how things turned out, but, well, it helps me let go of the anger and guilt I feel every time they rear their ugly heads at me while I'm walking down the street thinking about you.

  There were a lot of things going on in my life when I met you, some very important things I've told you about, but still some things I didn't mention. I never wanted it to seem as though I was burdening you with all my problems. I always just assumed we’d have more time. Kind of like the immortality thing we once spoke about.

  But I guess you can’t always count on tomorrow, can you?

  I'm still living a very transient lifestyle now, much more maturely than when you saw a lot of me, but still life seems to… you know, it just doesn't feel right. Like this isn't what life is supposed to be, this isn't how it’s supposed to feel.

  Rambling and repeating, I know. I'm sorry for repeating and I'm sorry for having to say sorry, and I'm sorry for sending this at all, because it may bring back old pangs of pain like I'm feeling writing it, but I just know I would appreciate it if someone reached out to tell me that I was on their mind, and that I was important to them. You know, in this day of social media, I think it might happen too frequently to hold any weight, but... then again, maybe not.

  I want to say something that moves you, the perfect way to express myself to you, and explain something to you. And I guess the only way to say it is this:

  I love you, Ashley. I really do. In so many ways. I know that seems weird after all this time, but God, it’s true. And if I could go back and change things... well, I can’t say I wouldn’t have tried harder to keep you away from me, to save you from dealing with all of this. Or maybe I would’ve kept you away because I couldn’t handle falling for you. And I now know that will never go away.

  Understand that it was never you.

  Okay wrap it up, Teddy.

  1. I'm sorry for not giving us a chance.

  2. I'm sorry for treating you the way I did

  3. I'm sorry for not communicating my fears to you.

  4. I'm sorry for turning you away that time in the city without an explanation.

  5. I'm really just sorry for not being a better human being to you, because you by far are the best human being I know.

  Yes, I just made a list. Judge away.

  I truly hope you forgive me? Understand? Just... I don't know.

  Well, there you have it.

  Teddy

  I know. Believe me, I know. Total sap, right? Well, that’s what happens when you realize you let go of the one good thing in your life, and you have no idea if you should try to get it back, or let her live a normal life without all your craziness.

  I bet you think I didn’t send that. I bet you think I took one read through and tore it up before tossing into the trash. I bet you think that’s what any man with any lick of pride would do. Well, you’re wrong. I absolutely sent it. I poured my heart onto that paper, completely embarrassed myself, and then forced a stamp onto the envelope.

  But I knew what I wanted, and I was setting out to get it. Ashley had rubbed off on me.

  The copious amounts of alcohol I consumed while both writing and sending the letter probably also had a bit to do with the complete execution.

  She got it, read it, and wrote back ten days later.

  Teddy,

  Thank you for that beautiful letter; I do really appreciate it. But what upsets me is that you're still living with guilt. I forgave you a long time ago. It's been almost two years since I left you standing on your porch in your boxers, but what I may not have expressed well enough then was that I was never angry with you. I understood. You did something for me too. You unleashed feelings in me that I had never experienced. I will always be grateful to you for that.

  That being said, I still truly believe that l wasn't the one for you. I have no doubt that you'll find someone for whom you will drop all your insecurities. It seems to me that you might finally be ready for that. If God had wanted us together, he would’ve had us meet now.

  Please don't be scared to get out there. I feel terrible that you're beating yourself up about this. Sure, I struggled for quite some time, but I came to the conclusion almost a year ago that it was never going to be that for us, and I moved on. I’m so happy with my life right now. It breaks my heart a little bit to say that to you, but it's the truth. I'm keeping busy (I'm maid of honor for two of my very best friends this year), my book is in the last stages of editing, and I'm so in love. Yes, Teddy. I’m in love. I count myself the luckiest girl in the entire world to be with my boyfriend, and I wouldn't trade anything for him. You know me well enough to know that part of me wishes I could hug you and tell you that I miss you and we'll make it work, but that would be a lie. I will always care about you, and every time I have a shot of tequila, or see someone being put into a cop car, or walk by our spot on the beach, or take a step into my old bedroom, I will think about you and the time we spent together in the throes of excitement and allure. But that's it.

  And please don't think that I see it as though you blew your chances with me. It wasn't meant to be. I'm completely sure of that. And when you
find what I've found, you'll see that too. We were a stepping-stone in each other's lives, and all the memories I retain from our time together are good ones. I have no doubt that we'll see each other again, so I'm not going to say goodbye. I'm just going to say: open your heart, and I pray that you never feel this regret again.

  I still believe in you, Teddy.

  Ashley

  Naturally, I was crushed.

  Two years of pining, of hoping, were torn down with a single spaced, single sided, one-page letter.

  It was over. I had really lost her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  HUNTINGTON HERALD

  Blackmailed by a Billionaire

  As editor of the Huntington Herald, it is with great privilege that I publish this next article. Ashley Leigh, an up and coming journalist whom we had the pleasure of employing over the course of two summers, is about to start her book tour. She sent me a copy to read, and I have to say: it is incredible.

  As many of you may recall, Ashley spent her summers tailing our local billionaire bad boy, the young Theodore Vincent Stoneguard IV. Her column was full of excitement, intrigue, and just a glimpse into a life most of us can’t begin to understand.

  It was all fun and games until the unthinkable happened: Teddy’s father, Theodore Vincent Stoneguard III, blackmailed her. She was forced to leave the island, give up her job with the Herald, and constantly watch her back.

  Ashley Leigh’s book, Blackmailed by a Billionaire, hits shelves tomorrow. I promise you this: you won’t be able to put it down. I know I couldn’t!

  And, just to give you a taste of what you should expect to find hidden in those sultry pages, here’s an excerpt from:

  Blackmailed by a Billionaire

  By Ashley Leigh

  It all started with a picture.

  Well, actually, it all started with a boy. Doesn’t it always?

  But it was the picture that gave him the leverage. Not the boy… the boy’s father. For the past two years, I have been held under the thumb of a billionaire.

  Had I been privy to company secrets, or happened to overhear a classified conversation, this whole scenario would make sense. I could at least understand why I was chosen, why I was followed.

  But that does not a good book make. The whole motivation behind blackmailing me was for this man to show his son who had the power. And then, when his son was no longer a part of the metaphorical picture, as was his plan the entire time, the blackmail turned to sport.

  I bet you are now wondering about this photograph. While not a career-killer, had I stepped out of line it could have been released in such a way that would gain very unwanted press. To nip that in the bud this instant, I have decided to release the picture myself. I do not want to shock you. The picture you will see is of me engaging in sexual intercourse on the beach. I was twenty-four years old, and it was consensual. Still, there was an illicit picture of me in the hands of someone I do not trust. Had my career taken me into the public eye, I had no desire to be the person who offended or lost the confidence of my supporters.

  For that reason, I have decided to make it known up front who I am.

  If you turn to the center insert of this book, you can see the picture for yourself. (Sorry readers, the picture is not included in the excerpt)

  Okay, now that that is out of the way, I am free to tell you my story. This is the part that starts with the boy...

  Ashley Leigh’s book tour starts in New York City, and then travels to Boston, Chicago, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Dallas, Houston, New Orleans, Miami, Atlanta, Washington D.C., and ends in Philadelphia.

  For specific dates, times, and locations, visit her website.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Teddy

  The flashes came back. The darkness, the void, was over.

  “What the hell is this?” This time it was I slamming something down in front of my father at the breakfast table.

  “You saw that, did you?”

  He fleetingly took in the book cover, but went back just as fleetingly to the file he was reading.

  “Is it true?”

  “Is what true, Theodore?” He sighed as he looked up at me above the rim of his glasses.

  “This book.”

  “I didn’t read it.”

  “You should.”

  “And just why would I read that trash?”

  “Would you care for me to list off some of her accusations?” I began to dramatically flip through the book.

  “Teddy, stop.”

  “How can I stop?”

  “Listen, there’s a good chance this will turn into a court case, and I don’t want to ask you to have to lie under oath, so it’s better for me not to answer any of your questions.”

  “You think I would testify against her?”

  “For your father?”

  “That doesn’t strengthen your case, Dad.” I emphasized the word ‘Dad’ in hopes that I would stir him.

  “Anything I might have done, I did for you.” He was just speaking out of habit now, not even looking up from his file.

  I turned briskly to walk away, but as I reached the other end of the table, he stopped me.

  “Where you going, son?”

  “Boston.”

  “Why?”

  “A book tour.”

  It was a fairly quick four-hour drive, half because I was nervous to see her, and half because I was teeming regarding the book. I worked myself up into a frenzy. Repercussions on my family’s company aside, there were things in this book that she had never told me. I bared my soul to her and she didn’t even have the common decency to tell me that my father had been blackmailing her for two years.

  I drove past the bookstore where the signing was currently being held, and pulled into the nearest parking garage. When I pushed my way into the bookstore, I noticed the line. Then I noticed how far back the line continued. Everyone was there to see her. Her book had caused quite a stir, and all those people were there to meet the author.

  A calm energy swept over me. I was proud of her. Even though it had been two years since I had seen her in person (I’m not going to lie- I visited her website just to look at her picture almost every day), I wanted to see her succeed. Her happiness was the key to my happiness.

  So I took out my book from my messenger bag, found my way to the end of the line, and waiting over an hour and a half to reach the front of the line.

  “Whom should I make this out to?”

  She seemed a bit overwhelmed, her face buried close to the hardcover I had just handed her, and her hand gripping tight around her pen. It was that same five-finger grip that used to drive me absolutely nuts, but in that moment it put a smile on my face. She told me in her letter that she was a different person. But she wasn’t. She was still my Ashley. She still held a pen like a five-year old.

  “Teddy.” I softly whispered. I feared what would happen if anyone around recognized me.

  “Ted—” Her hand began to shake halfway through the writing of my name. She let the pen fall from her grip, and she tilted her chin up toward me. “Teddy.”

  “Hey Ash.” My smile was genuine. God, I missed her.

  “What are you… what are you doing here?”

  “I came to get my book signed.” I took a deep breath and awkwardly pointed to the book.

  It was difficult. I wouldn’t tell you otherwise. I stared at her and felt pain and love mixed together. And what was even harder was the look of shock she was giving me. It was not at all the face of a woman who had “gotten over” me almost a year earlier. There was something I had brought out in her, and I watched as she discovered it again.

  “Oh, is this a friend, Ashley?” A short, dark-haired woman in her early sixties came to Ashley’s side.

  “Um, yes. Just an old friend. I thought I would surprise her.” I extended my hand to shake the older woman’s.

  “Well I’m Edna, Miss Leigh’s publicist. She still has quite
a line here, but I’m sure if you come back…”

  “No.” Ashley stood. “You should go.”

  What? That was not at all what I had expected her to say. That wasn’t the tone I understood from the look in her eyes. She wanted me there. She wanted to talk to me. Why was she pushing me away?

  “Ashley, is this man bothering you?”

  “I didn’t mean to…”

  “He’s not. I just think he should leave.”

  “Ashley, don’t do this.”

  But the time to beg was over. As I opened my mouth to speak another plea, someone in the crowd behind me began to whisper.