Knocked Up By The Billionaire

by Tasha Fawkes

  Nothing came to mind. Finally, there was my frustration and growing impatience with Charlie. I’d been trying to get hold of him since yesterday afternoon. Somehow, if I could urge him… convince him to leave town, go stay with Uncle Greg until this blew over, maybe he’d be safe. But if he did leave, I knew that he would never be able to return to Dallas. Not with Slim Pete around. I didn’t know how that would work, but I had a feeling that anywhere Charlie went, he would have to be careful. He couldn’t gamble. That was a risky proposition in itself.

  Charlie was avoiding me and my calls. Last night, just before dark, I had gotten so annoyed that I stopped by his apartment. If possible, it was even crappier than mine. Eric opened the door, his hair mussed, shirt hanging open, scratching at the two or three hairs on his chest. He stared at me with bloodshot eyes for several moments. As if he didn’t recognize me. Stoned again?

  “I need to speak to Charlie.”

  “Not here,” he said, turning slowly, as if sleepwalking, the door closing.

  I stuck my foot between the door and the jamb. “Where is he, Eric? It’s serious. I need to speak to him.”

  “I have no idea where he is, Dana. If I knew, I’d tell you. He owes me half the rent.”

  With that, he nudged my foot away from the door and closed it. I heard the deadbolt click, followed by a loose, hacking cough from behind it. I grimaced and left the apartment building and headed back home, my head spinning. My headache had not eased, and I had a bad feeling that if something positive didn’t happen soon, I’d end up with a migraine. Just what I needed. I didn’t get migraines often, but when I did, boy, they knocked me out. One time I had retreated to my bedroom closet with the door shut for hours.

  I stared at the computer screen, trying to focus on my report on the lymphatic and immune system, but even trying to concentrate was a joke. Deciding that I might try to find some work, I accessed the browser search bar and typed in my search parameters. I got the usual, plus Craigslist listings. I usually stayed away from Craigslist, but I was feeling desperate enough to go ahead and click on it anyway.

  I scanned through the local job openings, almost laughing at myself for doing so. There would be nothing listed here that would offer me the money I needed to pay off Slim Pete as well as my remaining tuition. Duh. No way in hell would I be able to find a job that paid fifty grand in a few days. Even high-class escorts didn’t make that much money. I cringed at the thought of having to whore myself out. Which immediately had me thinking about Slim Pete’s proposition, which promptly caused another surge of bile to rise in my throat.

  Besides, I had read a number of stories online about people getting ripped off, even killed when responding to Craigslist ads. I wasn’t stupid. Of course, I knew that not all of them were scams. Click out of the website. Now! Or—

  Wait a minute. My eyes focused on something interesting:

  Successful businessman looking for personal assistant. Preferably young and attractive, intelligent, and self-motivated. Duration: one year. Live-in position. Salary: $200,000. No experience necessary.

  Wait a second. Two hundred grand? Paying someone two hundred thousand dollars a year—no experience necessary? I snorted. Nevertheless, I read it several more times even as the warning signals played pinball in my brain. Got to be a scam. What prompted me to call the number listed at the bottom of the ad I’ll never know, but desperate people did desperate things, didn’t they?

  I jotted the phone number from the ad into my small wire-bound notebook, logged off the computer, and headed out of the library. Stupid! You’re being stupid!

  I walked around the corner toward the parking lot. Quieter there. What do you think you’re doing? Don’t do it!

  I paused under the shade of an elm tree and pulled the cell phone from my back pocket. You’re really doing this? Seriously?

  I tapped out the number, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. I wasn’t promising anything, wasn’t even really that serious. But the ad was intriguing. I’m sure I’d be able to tell if it was a scam—

  “‘llo?”

  My scam radar went into hyper drive. That wasn’t the way any professional businessman would answer the phone. I abruptly disconnected the call. Paced several moments, chewing on a fingernail, debating with myself. The job was for a live-in personal assistant for a successful businessman. It didn’t mean that the businessman worked out of a high-rise office building, surrounded by board members or secretaries. Maybe he worked from home?

  What the hell. It was just a phone call. I re-dialed the number. My foot impatiently tapped the sidewalk as the phone rang once, twice—

  “Hello?”

  Well, that was better. “Hello, I’m calling about the ad that was posted on Craigslist.”

  “Yes.”

  The man’s voice sounded nice enough. I was blunt, my tone doubtful. “Is this for real?”

  “It is,” the voice said. “My boss… well, let’s just say that he’s unconventional. I’d really like to talk to you more about the job, its… responsibilities, but I’m on my way to a meeting with him at the moment.”

  “Oh,” I said, somewhat disappointed. “Has the job been filled already?”

  “No, we’re still interviewing. Let me check my calendar.” A short pause. “Can we meet for lunch tomorrow at one o’clock? The Four Seasons? At Los Colinas on North MacArthur Blvd. You know it?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Thank you, sorry, gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

  The call abruptly disconnected. I lowered the phone and stared at it, not sure what to think. It wasn’t like I’d been asked to go to someone’s house or meet in a back alley somewhere. The Four Seasons hotel, golf club, and restaurant resort was one of the nicest in town. At one o’clock in the afternoon, it would be busy with diners. The fact that the man had opted for such a public and populated place boded well, didn’t it?

  I pondered over the “young and attractive” part, but I guess when it came to business, it was to be expected. Always had been, always would be. How old was the guy? Did it matter? Maybe it would. Maybe if the guy was old enough to be my father or even my grandfather, I would probably feel more comfortable, but there were a lot of young entrepreneurs in Dallas these days.

  I suppose I could ask questions of my own at the interview. If I didn’t like anything about the job, the potential employer, or if it sounded even slightly underhanded, I’d turn and walk away. I wouldn’t be involved in anything illegal.

  My heart thudded with renewed anxiety—another thing on my mind for the day. I stood for several moments under the shade of the elm, contemplating my own sense of desperation and how it had triggered such stupidity. I kept going around and around. I hadn’t promised anything. I hadn’t agreed. I was just looking into it. It was a public place. A public place… anybody bent on violence or underhanded business dealings certainly wouldn’t have chosen the busiest time of day during the workweek at Four Seasons for crying out loud.

  I slowly walked home, still so worried I wasn’t able to appreciate the warm sunshine on my skin, the somewhat fresh air, carrying with it a hint of dust. Two hundred thousand dollars. For one year. Even as a registered nurse it would take me years to make that kind of money. And I needed money now. A lot of it.

  Though filled with trepidation and uncertainty, and despite the fact that I honestly knew better, it was tempting. After all, what other options did I have? I kept trying to convince myself I was the one in control. The meeting was set in a public place. If I didn’t like or get a good vibe from the person I had talked to on the phone offering the job, I could turn around and leave. No harm, no foul. It was just an interview.

  What did I have to lose?

  Chapter Eight

  Brady

  I peered at Nick. Things will work out okay? Since when was Nick a cheerleader? He had worn a self-satisfied grin as he walked down the short hallway back to the table on his return from the bathroom, talking on his phone. When his eyes met min
e, he mumbled something and then abruptly disconnected the call.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “What’s that all about?”

  “Nothin’. Just a stupid ex bugging me.”

  He avoided my eyes. I wasn’t sure I believed him. “Which one?”

  He shrugged, sliding the phone into the pocket of his T-shirt. “Who the hell remembers?”

  I shook my head and took a sip of beer from the nearly full mug in front of me that the bartender had brought while Nick was in the bathroom. “So what have you got planned this afternoon?”

  His phone rang. Nick startled and glanced at the phone, still tucked into his pocket, then at me. I frowned at him, and he plucked the phone from his pocket and accepted the call. He turned his face slightly to the side as if he didn’t want me to hear. I barely caught the words.

  “… position filled.” He hung up and placed the phone on the table.

  Did he have something going on the side that I didn’t know about? That would be the day. “Nick, what are—”

  The phone rang again. This time Nick glanced down at the screen and tapped the ignore button. That’s when my Spidey sense went on alert. Something was up, and I had a feeling I knew what it was. Cursing under my breath, I snatched the phone from the table.

  “Brady—”

  He leaned back in his seat, out of reach as he stared at me with a look of resignation. I felt a niggling of worry. “What the hell did you do?” He said nothing as I accessed his texts and realized that in spite of the fact that I told him not to post an ad on Craigslist, it was obvious that he had. I looked up at him.

  “What the hell, Nick? How many calls have you gotten?” I was pissed, even more so when the phone rang in my hand. I clicked the ignore button, just as Nick had a few seconds ago. “Delete the ad, Nick. Now.”

  I barely resisted the urge to toss the phone at him. He took it from my hand, swallowed, and after a few moments of tapping, looked up. “Okay, it’s deleted.”

  “What the hell? You were only gone five minutes! Shit! Are these calls from the ad?” I didn’t believe him when he said they were not. Putting an ad in the paper promising two-hundred grand was bound to bring everyone out of the woodwork. I shook my head. “Don’t you think I have enough problems? Didn’t you realize that you were going to be inundated with calls? Dammit, Nick, what were you thinking?”

  He stared dumbly at me.

  Annoyed, I rose from the bench seat. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” I led the way toward the door. The minute we were outside, away from the air-conditioning inside the bar and stepped into the bright, warm sunshine, I sighed.

  “Sorry, Brady, I was just trying to help.”

  I didn’t say anything as I turned to look at him. He was a good friend, but that was the kind of help I certainly didn’t need.

  “Hell, let me make it up to you. Tell you what. Let’s have lunch at the Four Seasons tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Where the hell are you going to get that kind of money?” Those were the first words out of my mouth. Then again, Nick sometimes surprised me.

  “Gimme a break, bro. I’m not that poor.”

  I was going to decline, my mind occupied with too many things. Shit, I didn’t think I would even have time to eat. I had to find a way out of this mess I was in. How the hell was I going to do that? Come clean with my dad? Admit that I didn’t have a girlfriend? Hell no.

  “Come on, Brady, let me make it up to you.”

  I glanced at him. He looked serious so I shrugged. “Fine. Two o’clock?”

  “Can we make it one o’clock? I’ve got something going on later.”

  “Whatever.” I guess it didn’t really matter.

  *

  I sat at a table across from Nick at the Four Seasons Resort on North MacArthur Boulevard. I had no idea why Nick had chosen this place, usually way beyond his pay grade, even when he was earning a paycheck. We sat at opposite ends of a square four seater table covered with a pristine and heavy linen tablecloth, spotless crystal, heavy white porcelain dishware, and silver plated eating utensils. I stared over the single stemmed purple orchid in the clear glass vase with small river stone pebbles in the bottom, my suspicions growing.

  Since we’d arrived ten minutes ago, Nick had been anxiously peering around the room. He looked uncomfortable in a pair of khaki slacks and a button-down collared shirt. Highly unusual attire for Nick. Not for me, though, and my dark brown khakis, polo shirt, and loafers sans socks fit perfectly with the crowd, many of whom were golfers taking advantage of the gorgeous eighteen-hole course nearby.

  “Who the hell are you looking for?” I finally asked.

  “What?” he asked, eyes wide with feigned surprise.

  I knew he was up to something. “Nick, spit it out.”

  Nick picked up his water glass, took a sip, and then set it down, slowly nodding. Stalling. He looked at me as if he were about to spill, but then his eyes latched onto someone beyond my shoulder and froze. The next thing I knew, he rose from the table.

  I turned to look over my shoulder as he approached a young brunette. A very pretty young brunette with a trim yet curvy figure. I was slightly surprised. She didn’t look like Nick’s usual girlfriends. Nor had any of them ever had the means to dine here. Not that I was a snob or anything, but—

  I stiffened as Nick gestured for the woman to sit down at our table. Nick led the way, giving me the eye. I knew that look. Shit.

  “Brady, this is Dana Sommer.” He nervously cleared his throat. “She’s here for the job interview.”

  I stared at Nick in disbelief, then at the woman, who glanced between the two of us. Her hands trembled slightly, and her face looked flushed, the pulse in her neck an obvious indication of her nervousness.

  I recovered from my startled dismay and remembered my manners enough to gesture for her to sit down. “Please, have a seat. I’ll be back in just a moment.” She nodded and proceeded to sit down as I gave Nick my look. “May I speak to you for a moment, over there at the bar?”

  Nick swallowed hard but immediately headed for the far side of the bar, his shoulders stiff. My temper roiling, I tried to tamp it down, tried to relax the sudden tightness in my jaw, trying to breathe in slow, steady breaths. God, didn’t I have enough trouble as it was? I stood facing Nick, my back to the dining room.

  “What the hell did you do?” I hissed.

  “This is what you want it, isn’t it?” Nick replied, keeping his voice low as well.

  I glanced around to make sure no one could hear us. Despite the urge to shout, I also kept my tone barely above a whisper, though it was filled with an intense sense of frustration and annoyance. “What the hell, Nick?”

  “You said it, Brady. You said it had to be a stranger, no attachments. How else are you going to find someone suitable before Saturday?”

  My head pounded anew. Oh God, when would this nightmare end?

  “Besides, did you notice how hot she was?”

  I had. But she also looked a bit young for my taste. “Nick—”

  “She looks like a decent sort, Brady. Shit, she looks like the girl next door. Her eyes are clear, she has nice breath, and she smells nice to boot. That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it? Someone presentable?”

  All of a sudden, all the anger and frustration left my body. I just didn’t have the energy. I was exhausted. Maybe Nick was right. I did like how the young woman looked. Maybe with someone like that, Dad would believe that she was my girlfriend. I just couldn’t believe I was having to resort to such subterfuge, such deceit. If my father hadn’t been putting the pressure on, I could have eventually found a woman on my own.

  But would I?

  “Fine, let’s go talk to her.” I turned around, stared, and then swore, giving Nick one of my best glares.

  She was gone.

  Chapter Nine

  Dana

  I watched the interaction between the two men standing at the bar with more than a little trepidation. The guy who had stood and
met me was of moderate high with longish blond hair with a slight curl. It looked like he had shaved recently, at least by what I could tell with the fresh nick on his jaw. His eyes shone, kind of glassy looking, but when I got closer it didn’t look like his pupils were dilated. He didn’t look stoned.

  The guy he introduced me to was handsome. More than handsome, in fact. He was hot. Better than model hot… all man hot. He looked… powerful, not only physically, but when he turned to glance up at me, I was startled to feel a burgeoning of heat that swept through my body. Unwanted, more than slightly embarrassing, and emotionally frustrating.

  The look on his face, the quick glance at his friend, that frown of confusion and startled surprise caused all those emotions to evaporate. The moment he asked to speak privately to his friend, I knew. The reaction acted like a cold splash of water on my face.

  I should’ve known. I should’ve known! My suspicions were right all along. This was some kind of a weird scam. I glanced at the two men, the dark-haired one… Brady, I think his name was, standing with his back to me.

  My heart pounding, my pride injured, and mentally kicking myself for my stupidity, I rose from my chair and quickly wove my way through tables toward the entrance foyer. I exited the restaurant and walked through the reception area of the resort hotel when the phone in my pocket vibrated. I had turned off the ringer before I entered the building. Impatient, angry at myself, angry at the world, I pulled the phone out of my pocket, thinking it was either Charlie or that blond-haired guy, likely the one I had spoken to on the phone yesterday.

  I didn’t recognize the number. Breaking my own rule, I answered it, ready to give whoever it was a good piece of my mind.

  “If this is who I think it is—”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  My stomach turned, and I froze just outside of the entrance of the hotel. I recognized that voice. It was Slim Pete. “How did you get my phone number?” I demanded. “What do you want?”