Billionaire Badboy

by Kenzie, Sophia

  Until we meet again,

  Ash

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Teddy

  “Can someone grab the door?” I called from the kitchen as I threw more beer into the cooler.

  “Got it!” One of the guys stumbled from the back patio, through the seating area, further into the foyer, and up the two stairs to the door. I know, because I heard every step. We had been drinking for hours. It was kind of our unofficial kick-off to summer party that the gang made sure to be around for every year. It could’ve been any other summer. “Dude, it’s the girl who wrote the book about you!”

  But it wasn’t any other summer. It was this summer. It was the night I died.

  I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to watch the final memory I would ever have on this earth. I wasn’t ready to leave. I had just spent another whole lifetime watching a string of flashes that was meant to show me something, to teach me a lesson. And now what? I was just going to be taken from it? I was just going to be burdened with my failure for the rest of eternity?

  I inhaled deeply. I wasn’t ready to see her. I couldn’t. So much had happened since that night in Boston, three years earlier. Yes, I had understood, but I always thought there would be an end date. I had thought she would come back to me.

  But there was no end date. She didn’t come back. She stayed away. She broke me. I wanted nothing to do with her.

  I saw myself struggling. I closed the lid of the cooler and stood up straight, debating whether, or how, really, I would face her. What would I say? What would she say? Who would apologize first? Would either of us apologize? Would things go back to normal? Had things ever been normal? Really, what was normal?

  The backlash from Ashley’s book was irreparable. It was slow at first, but once Blackmailed by a Billionaire hit the top spot on all best-seller lists, we were bombarded. We lost countless shareholders, we had to sell off parts of companies, full companies, and we filed for bankruptcy with others. I was working full time with my father during the entire ordeal, sometimes twenty hours a day just to try and subdue some of the repercussions.

  He blamed me for the entire thing.

  “Had you done what I told you in the very beginning, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “Had you any respect for this family, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

  “Had you cared at all for your future, you would have done what needed to be done the first time that girl crossed a line.”

  I handled the berating for two and a half years. I spoke to the press, took interviews, assured the public that their confidence was deserved, and we wouldn’t let them down. People have flaws. Everyone has flaws. My father wasn’t proud of his, but he did everything he did in the interest of his family and his employees.

  In a sick sort of twisted way, he really did. There was a reason he had been so successful as a businessman. He knew what he was doing, and didn’t second-guess any of his actions.

  “Theodore, get in here!”

  The sound of my father’s voice pulled me from the night of the summer kick-off party into another memory. I was standing in the foyer. It was a Friday, and I had just come home from the city. I had been either spending my nights at our Central Park West home, or I would sleep in my office. Either way, I barely saw my father anymore. I was practically running the company on my own, as he had taken heavily to the bottle. No one needed to see him in that condition.

  But now he was calling me into his office. I had dodged the occasional swings, sported the occasional black eyes, and wrapped the occasional bruised ribs since Ashley’s book, but none had come close to the night I spent in the hospital. Still, the tone in his voice shook me. I knew what I would be walking into. I knew the outcome could land me near death.

  “Theodore!”

  “Coming!” I set down my briefcase and made my way toward the door under the stairs. “What is it, sir?”

  “Close the door.”

  Shit.

  He took a sip of his scotch. “Look what I just read.” He handed me the newspaper opened to the business section.

  “Our stock is up. I told you. I’ve been reaching the right people. We’re going to pull through this.”

  “No, not that. The interview.”

  “Sir?”

  “You gave an interview?”

  “Yes.”

  “And in it, you said that as a father and son, we never saw eye to eye.”

  “True, but then I went on to say that as a business partner, I respect you tremendously. I’ve learned everything I know from you, and have no doubt that when the time comes, I’ll be able to run this company successfully because of the practices you’ve instilled in me.”

  “Which I appreciate.”

  “So what’s the issue?”

  “The issue is that this bimbo decided to add her own opinions to what should have been a simple question and answer interview.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. And she seems to think that the company would be much better off without me. If fact, she went on to say that she believes if I resigned, you would be able to eradicate any residual damage still left by that book.”

  “I didn’t say any of that.”

  “But you fucked her.”

  “What?”

  “Come off it, Theodore. I know how to persuade the press, just as well as you do.”

  “Sir, I didn’t persuade her.”

  “DO NOT LIE TO ME!”

  He stood up from his chair and slung his bottle of eighteen-year-old scotch directly at my head. I ducked, missing the bottle by mere inches, but that only angered him further. He jumped out from behind his desk and threw his body at me. We fell to the floor, rolling on top of the broken glass and the puddles of whisky.

  But I had finally had enough. I saved his company from completely going under while he did nothing but stare at the bottom of his brown spirit bottles. I was the one pulling his weight. I was the one being called out in the papers as someone deserving of his place in the world. That had never been me before. It now was. I wasn’t about to let him take that away from me.

  I pushed him onto his back and found my feet.

  “You’re jealous.”

  “What?” He drunkenly groaned, picking himself up off the pile of glass.

  “You… you…” Everything was becoming clear. “I always thought I was a disappointment to you. I thought you saw something in me that just needed to be brought out, and yet, I was smothering it in my wildish ways. But that was never the case, was it?”

  “You hold your tongue when you’re speaking to me.”

  “No. You’re afraid. You’re afraid that I’ll be better than you. It makes so much sense. You wanted to be remembered. Any time I acted out, you only covered it up to hide your inabilities as a father. But now, now that I’m becoming successful, you think that I might actually do a better job than you. People might actually look up to me. They might forget you. And that drives you crazy.”

  “Don’t you dare…” He threw his fist in the direction of my face, but I didn’t let him make contact. I stopped him with my bare hand. I wrapped my fingers around his knuckles. And I held him there.

  “You don’t hit me anymore. You hear me? I am not afraid of you.”

  I tossed my weight into his fist and threw him back a few stumbled steps. He stared at me, flabbergasted that I wasn’t floundering. I was standing firm. I was standing tall.

  I was standing up to him for the first time.

  It was also the last.

  I marched out of his study, slamming the door behind me, and not looking back. My heart was beating out of my chest, but finally, I felt whole. I felt strong. I felt like I should have felt my entire life.

  Three minutes later, a gunshot rang throughout the entire house. Theodore Vincent Stoneguard III, my father, put a pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

  That seven-year feud I spoke of earlier was finally over. But it wasn’t between Ashley and I… it
was between my father and I.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Teddy

  “Can someone grab the door?”

  “Got it!” Stumble… step, step… Stumble… three more steps… a turning doorknob… a swinging door… “Dude, it’s the girl who wrote the book about you!”

  I was back, leaning against the kitchen wall, holding a beer and standing by an open cooler. Ashley was standing in my doorway. My Ashley. The girl I had been pining over for some seven years. But for the first time, I didn’t want her there.

  “Tell her I’m not here!” I immediately regretted it as soon as I said it. If he had heard me, she, of course, had heard me too, and now she’d be certain I was avoiding her.

  The last direct contact I had with Ashley was the night in Boston. She said her piece in that letter, and I refused to fight any more. I wrote her off. She would always just be the girl who got away.

  But the problem with that girl who gets away is that you can never stop thinking about that girl. You cry out your ‘if only's’ over and over again until you’ve asked them all. You find yourself wishing you had the ability to go back in time and change one small moment. That one small moment would be all you would need. It would fix everything.

  But, as I’ve said, there’s a reason no one invented time travel.

  The ‘if only’s’ never happened, and I had no special abilities. I was stuck in my reality, and my reality was without her. And so I erased her. I didn’t allow myself to track her, to find her, to know anything about her. She was but a distant memory. It was the only way I could get through it… the pain of telling her that I loved her and not having it reciprocated.

  Especially for me: someone who didn’t know love until she came along.

  After my father died, she wrote an article that was published in The Times claiming that she fully supported my endeavors as the new CEO of Stoneguard Holdings, and that she hoped the masses would put their faith in me as well. That was nice of her.

  Then she tried to get in contact. She called, she wrote, and she emailed, but I didn’t answer, I didn’t read, and I didn’t open. It was the only way I could survive.

  But how was I supposed to avoid her when she was standing in my foyer?

  “Teddy, I know you’re here.”

  That was my own damn fault.

  I regained my composure and gave myself a little pep talk.

  She’s just a girl, Teddy. You can do this. Maybe once there was something, but now, you’re over it. You’re strong, you’re powerful, you’re better than this. She means nothing to you. She’s not worth the pain. She’s…

  “Gorgeous.”

  I looked up to see her standing in front of me.

  “I’m gorgeous, huh? I really didn’t expect to hear that from someone who has been avoiding me for the better part of six months.”

  She was gorgeous. I couldn’t even be mad at myself for saying it out loud. She deserved the word.

  It had been three years since I had seen her. Those three years were good to her. Twenty-nine was good to her. She wore her hair back, with loose curls falling around her face and shoulders. He cheeks were lightly blushed, and her skin was tanned, but radiant. She was wearing a modest sundress with red-wedged heels.

  “You’ve always been gorgeous.”

  I held it together, offering my arms out to hug her. She walked into my embrace, and for the first time in three years, I felt alive. What the hell was it about her?

  “How are you doing?” She cooed into my ear.

  “I’m okay.” I pulled from her hold, trying to act as though her presence had no effect on me. “Busy, but okay.”

  “Good. I missed you.” She slowly blinked with sad eyes.

  “I have that effect on girls.” I cockily joked.

  “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

  For a brief second, I dropped the act. “It has to be, Ash.”

  There was so much sadness, so much regret between us. The room was stifled with it.

  “Right, yes.” She just kept nodding. “I understand.”

  Silence. Awkwardness.

  “Beer?”

  “Yes, please.”

  We civilly walked outside together, greeted the rest of the partygoers, and talked with anyone but each other for over two hours. I had to avoid her. Having her in my house was next to impossible for me.

  At midnight, I pushed back from the patio table and announced I was getting more beer. Ashley followed me.

  “Should I leave?”

  “What? No.” I coolly commented. “Do you want to leave?”

  “No, but I was hoping to… you know… talk to you.”

  “Then talk. I’m listening.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “I’m hearing you. What am I doing wrong?”

  I was being a complete douche. She was pleading with me and I was acting as if there was nothing between us. I hated doing it, but it was my only defense.

  “Here, I came to show you this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a bound manuscript.

  “What is it?”

  “Take a look.” She bit her lip and held the pile of paper out to me. She was so fucking adorable. I just wanted to eat her up. Or put my pinky on her nose.

  Control yourself, Teddy.

  I stared at the cover. In large, bold letters were the words:

  My Father was killed in an “Accident”: unearthing the secrets for the grieving families

  “You… you did it. Ashley, you figured it out?”

  She put her hand up in an effort to pause my excitement. “Not exactly. And not specifically my father, but this is a start. It’s interviews with families that were in the same situation, that never really knew. I even sat down with some pretty important government officials… I got… there’s a lot of good stuff in there. A lot of eye-opening stuff, and it’s really helped me get some… closure.”

  I wanted to hug her. I wanted to pick her up and spin her around to congratulate her. But I couldn’t. I had to hold myself back.

  “Congratulations. This is really something.” I smiled as I handed the book back to her.

  “It’s yours.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to have that. After all, without you, I never would have found the courage to write it.”

  Oh God, what was she doing to me? The pain, the anger, and the extreme sense of pride I felt for her all mixed together with copious amounts of alcohol were beginning to bring out a whole new emotion. I was afraid what might happen if she pushed me over the edge.

  “I really appreciate this.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Silence.

  “My father was going to force himself onto you.” I just blurted it out.

  “What?”

  “The night of that party… seven years ago. That’s why I kicked you out.”

  “But, how…”

  “He told me he was going to. I tried to stop him all night, but then you ended up with him. I had to do something.”

  She took it in. She nodded. She understood.

  “Teddy,” she placed her hand on mine, “I’m back. I want to come home.”

  I don’t know if it was the sensation of her touch or the look in her eye, but the calmness I had been using as a mask flew out from underneath me.

  “No.” I stepped back.

  “What do you mean?”

  “No. No. You left. You left me. I wasn’t okay without you and you left me.” My breath quickened.

  “I needed to do this, Teddy. You knew that. You told me to.”

  “And that’s great. And that’s the choice you made. But all this…” I motioned to myself, “Has been surviving without you, and I have too much going on to risk falling back into that trap.”

  “Now I’m a trap?”

  “This hold you have on me. You won’t leave. I finally, finally started to get a sense of a normal life, and then you came back. You can’t just come back whenever it suits you. You need to
leave me alone.”

  “We’ve tried this. I can’t do that as much as you can’t.”

  “I can. That’s what I’m saying. If it means that otherwise I have to endure heartbreak the next time you decide you have to go on some spiritual journey…”

  “Don’t you dare call this a spiritual journey. I did this so I could move on with my life.”

  “And you just expected me to be sitting here waiting for you three years later?”

  “I didn’t. And I never would’ve asked that of you, which is why I didn’t. But it doesn’t mean I can’t ask to try it again. Are you not willing to give us another shot?”

  I was. I was so willing. But the pride and alcohol took over. They wanted her to hurt like I had hurt. They wanted her to feel what it’s like when someone doesn’t love you back.

  “You ruined my life.” It wasn’t the truth. I was just trying to push her away. I was able to justify it. “You’re the reason he’s dead.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “Wow. Wow.” Her hand came to her mouth and her face reddened with grief.