The Billionaire's Proposal

by Sierra Rose

  A half-naked billionaire, chasing a paparazzi into the cold Manhattan night.

  And just like that, the game was on...

  Chapter 11

  You live in New York long enough, you become accustom to certain things.

  Horses skipping by amongst the taxis, dragging star-crossed lovers to the nearest coffee shop. People dressed up like the Statue of Liberty—willing to spout off limericks and poems for money. Rats the size of ponies trotting alongside the subways.

  Perhaps it was for this reason, that no one really noticed Nick as he sprinted in nothing but his underwear down the street.

  That is...until he ran into a late-night hot dog vendor.

  “Ow—shit! Sorry!” he cried all at once, doing his best to wipe hot grease and mustard from his chest as he took off after the cameraman.

  Even from where I was—twenty paces behind him—I was still able to hear the small chorus of profanities the vendor launched his way. The Italians have a way of cursing better than the rest of us, and this man ran with the best of them.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” The man lobbed a large handful of horse radish Nick’s way. “Put on some fucking pants—pretty!”

  Nick waved desperately over his head in apology, as he continued sprinting down the street. Barefoot. In the middle of a New York winter.

  Against all the odds, he had actually caught sight of the man who had snapped our picture as he headed down the street. He’d yelled something threatening, and the man had taken off in terror—only to have Nick in full pursuit. Each one was tearing down the middle of the street, but for very different reasons. Skirting taxis. Ducking billboards. Eyes on the prize.

  For my part, I was tagging along in the back—trying to keep my lingerie from falling off as I sprinted after the two of them, screaming at the top of my lungs at no one in particular.

  “Hey!” Nick cried again, jumping past a baby carriage as he raced along the sidewalk. “I only want to talk! HEY!”

  But the man showed no sign of stopping. To be fair, if I looked behind me and saw an enraged naked billionaire in full pursuit, I wouldn’t have stopped either. Then again, I couldn’t really blame the guy for snapping another picture over his shoulder as he ran. Between the bare chest, the golden-brown hair, and the streaks of mustard—it was paparazzi gold.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Nick growled, picking up his speed.

  An old woman crossed herself as I ran by, followed by a group of Japanese tourists who made sure to stop and snap my picture on their way back to the bus.

  Perfect, just perfect!

  I yanked the jacket around me tighter, but actually gave them a little wave as I tore into the street, following after my naked client as he jumped cars, dodged pedestrians, and generally did the ‘super-hero chase’ thing down the midnight streets of New York.

  “Nick—stop!” I screamed. “Just let him go—it’s over!”

  But men like Nick weren’t programmed to give up. If anything, my hopeless resignation only made him run faster. With his hair streaming out behind him, he leapt over a fire-hydrant and darted around a curb—running like his life depended on it.

  “There will not be,” he leapt over construction grate, “a single picture,” he ducked the shower of sparks that followed, “of you naked. I swear it on my—”

  And that’s when he fell into the fountain.

  “Nick!” I shrieked, skidding to a screeching halt on the wet tile.

  It hadn’t been his fault. As he’d rounded the corner, a young mother with a stroller had made her way out of a restaurant. Unfortunately, it was at a place where the sidewalk suddenly bottlenecked with no warning, and the only way to avoid them, was by leaping over the railing entirely...and into the water.

  He was lying on his back by the time I caught up with him. His wavy hair floating around him as he floated miserably on top of the freezing water. Ironically, every tourist within seven blocks had appeared from nowhere to take pictures. The cameraman, of course, was long gone.

  “Nick,” I said again, gazing down at him in dismay.

  His eyes were closed, but his face perked up when he heard my voice. Instead of answering, he chose to tilt the other way—surrendering himself to the karmic gods as the fountain began to overtake him. By now, a little cloud of mustard and hot dog grease had begun to color the water around him—making him look like a highly edible piece of performance art.

  I stifled a smile, clutching his jacket tighter around me.

  “Honey...” It was the first time I’d ever used the word, and he perked up with that as well. “Do you want to maybe get out of the fountain? We can get you dried off?”

  His lips twitched, but he remained stationary. Lying there like some kind of water-logged Greek god, caught off guard and drowned on a hunting trip. Riddled with condiments.

  “What’s the point,” he sighed. “He got away.”

  The crowd tittered, and I tried not to grin. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how despondent he might actually feel—it was like the guy couldn’t stop performing.

  “Just because he got away, doesn’t mean you have to die of hypothermia.” I thought it was a pretty solid argument—the logic was sound. “Why don’t you...paddle this way, and you and I can catch a cab back to the Upper East Side.”

  One eye opened, followed by another.

  “The Upper East Side?” he repeated questioningly. “Isn’t that where we are?”

  I shook my head regrettably. “I’m afraid you left Manhattan entirely. By now, we’re probably somewhere in Queens.”

  The crowd tittered some more, and even Nick had to smile as he pulled himself slowly to his feet and began wading my way. It was then that the tittering gave way to genuine shock as some people recognized him, and those who didn’t, were bowled away by his body nonetheless.

  What the fuck was this? Some kind of secret photo shoot? A social experiment in the making? See how long you can keep from touching the models?

  As usual, Nick was either oblivious or immune. I, for one, kept it together until he stepped onto the sidewalk beside me, leaving freezing pools of water in his wake.

  “You look like James Bond,” I comforted. “You know, if James Bond worked somewhere in the Arctic, liked hot dogs, and fell down a lot.”

  Nick flashed me a wry smile, one that failed to reach his eyes.

  “That’s funny—you look like you lost all your clothes in a game of Strip Poker.”

  Simple, yet direct.

  I nodded briskly, eager to put the whole chase scene behind us. The publicist in me kicked in, and I was suddenly well aware that we had an audience of eager on-lookers.

  “Well, that’s what happens when you lose your pants in a boxing ring.” I extended my hand with a bright smile. “Shall we?”

  Cold as he was, even Nick had to smile in return. He lifted a hand to wave at the cheering crowd, before the two of us draped our arms around each other and headed off to find a cab.

  A task much easier said than done...

  For the record, taxis don’t like to stop for passengers who are soaking wet. And they really don’t like to stop for passengers who are soaking wet and mostly naked. It wasn’t until Nick reached into his suit jacket that I was wearing and pulled out a hundred dollar bill, that someone finally pulled to the curb.

  At last, the freezing nightmare was behind us. Our getaway vehicle had just arrived.

  A look of relief lit Nick’s face as he held open the door for me. “Care to head back to my apartment? We can get you warmed up and maybe...maybe pick up where we left off?”

  My first thought was to say yes. Honestly, my first thought was to jump on top of him the second we got into the cab. But between the crowd listening anxiously behind him, and the fact that I was still dressed in nothing but a garter and a man’s coat, something changed my mind.

  “You know, I should probably head home,” I answered quietly. “It’s been...it’s been a long night. I want to get some sl
eep if we’re getting together again tomorrow.”

  Nick hesitated in surprise, and I realized that he hadn’t, for a single moment, considered the fact that I might say no. He recovered himself well, and nodded quickly—opening the door wider so I could slip into the cab. He would take the next one right behind us.

  “Yes, of course.” He passed a large bill through the grate before I could stop him, and stepped back to pat the thing on the hood. “Brooklyn, please.”

  I rolled down the window, as the driver started pulling away—gazing out at my watery Adonis as he stood by the side of the curb. I handed him more money from the suit pocket so he could get home.

  “You can ride with me,” I said.

  “Can I? Because I thought you said no.”

  Ride. Ha ha. I had read between the lines. I had said no to sex. He wasn’t used to being rejected. Whatever.

  “See you tomorrow?” I asked nervously, suddenly worried that I’d offended him.

  His face cleared into an easy smile.

  “Tomorrow. Enjoy Brooklyn.”

  I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

  “Always.”

  His lips twisted up in a smirk.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts...”

  I stuck my head farther out the window as we began to pull away—sure that I hadn’t heard him correctly. “What was that?”

  He just smiled and waved, raising his hand for another cab as I rounded the corner.

  The second he disappeared from sight, I stuck my head back in the window, frowning to myself as I played the words back again in my head.

  Enjoy it while it lasts? What the hell does that mean?

  As it turned out, I wouldn’t have to wait long to find out...

  * * *

  Considering the crazy night I had, the next morning was relatively normal. I woke up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and headed out to my favorite little café around the corner to grab a bagel for breakfast.

  I had made a conscious effort not to check the newsstands that morning, in case I happened to walk past a random picture of me and Nick naked in a boxing ring, and decided to keep myself deliberately optimistic instead. Oh my gosh! Listen to myself. He’s dragged me into all his craziness.

  I remembered the moment of the flash exactly. (I remembered it exactly, because Nick had been just a second away from impaling me with the biggest penis I’d ever seen. That’s not the kind of moment a girl can forget.) Because of this, I knew for a fact that the cameraman hadn’t gotten anything vital—at least, not of me.

  Moving with the skill and speed of someone who had been in that position countless times before, Nick had shielded me from the worst of the blast—meaning that while naked photos of himself might be spread across this morning’s Newsweek, I was pretty much covered.

  With that particular worry set aside, I was able to focus on much more exciting things as I sat at the outdoor table and sipped my morning coffee.

  Nick and I...hooked up.

  There were no two ways of saying it. No masterful spin that even I could come up with to paint it a different way. While we may not have actually had sex, we’d done other things. Other things that were also, irrevocably, burned into my mind.

  Yes—we’d been drinking.

  But we were by no means drunk.

  Yes—we’d been in a fucking bizarre situation.

  But ever since I’d started working for the Hunter family, it had been one bizarre situation after another. Two years in, that was hardly an excuse.

  We had just...done it.

  Or at least, we’d tried to. It seemed like no matter how often we attempted to take each other’s clothes off, something always got in the way.

  Still...it wasn’t like either of us had walked away empty-handed.

  Have I always liked him? I asked myself the question again and again. Have I just never noticed it before because he’s always been a client? Because he’s always been with other girls?

  Which led me to the obvious, if a little uncomfortable, question.

  Jokes aside...just how many others were there?

  I was by no means a prude. Before dear Nicholas had come around and ruined whatever chance I had at a social life. I had boyfriends here and there, but I wasn’t in the same ballpark as Nick. If I was being honest, we weren’t even in the same league.

  I needed work to distract me. But what was work nowadays?

  I had been unofficially banned from the office. While Nick might like to present his hard-working girlfriend to the world, the rest of his father’s company wasn’t so proud. I was allowed to keep my title, and the promise to return, as long as I temporarily relinquished all rights for the time being. That wasn’t a problem—given the team that I had set in place—but it did leave me at a bit of a loss as to what to do with myself.

  What did Nick’s girlfriends do all day? It wasn’t like they had jobs. Most of them didn’t even live in the same country. They were guests—staying at his penthouse. No responsibilities to take care of, no ties to hold them down. So what exactly did they do?

  You know exactly what they do, Abby. You started doing a bit of it yourself last night...

  Damn this subconscious of mine! Had she always been so judgmental?

  Too nervous for my bagel and suddenly eager to be rid of myself, I quickly paid inside and headed back to my apartment. With every step, the questioned weighed heavier and heavier upon my shoulders, but by the time I got to my building, I was brimming with fresh resolve.

  What was I going to do with myself? Something positive—that’s what.

  I wasn’t going to just sit on my fake-laurels and wait for boyfriend dearest to get home, I was going to put my fleeting celebrity to good use. Art auctions, fundraisers, charities for schools—I would do the lot. Not only would it be good for the Hunter reputation, but it would give me a sense of purpose throughout this whole crazy debacle. A sense of meaning.

  And who knows? Maybe once this is all over—I can keep up some of the commitments I started. It’s not like I want my entire life to be public relations. I can branch out and do other things as well. Consider this relationship as a great launching point for other ventures.

  It shouldn’t be too hard. As long as I keep a clear line between what’s real and what’s...

  I trailed off as I got to the top of the stairs, and peered down the hall at my door. It was open. Even though I was sure I’d locked it shut.

  Venturing cautiously closer, I knocked twice before sticking my head inside.

  “Hello?” I called warily. It wasn’t like a burglar to advertise his presence by leaving open the door, and Larry, my landlord, tended to do spot-checks without my permission. “Larry—is that you? Is anyone there?”

  No response.

  Feeling even more cautious than before, I headed inside—walking on tiptoe as I pushed open the threshold and crossed the door.

  That’s when I stopped cold.

  That’s when I blinked around in absolute shock.

  That’s when I realized I didn’t live there anymore...

  * * *

  “NICK!”

  I started screaming even before I got off the elevator. Even before I realized that it was seven in the morning, and everyone else who lived in his building was almost undoubtedly asleep. At the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. At the moment, I was officially homeless.

  “NICK—GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!”

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he’d done it. That he was the one responsible. I’d seen him do it before. Not while moving in girlfriends, but while moving out competitors. Nosy neighbors. Rivals. People with whom he swore he could never get along.

  It was one of his favorite things to do to pass the time. Play god.

  It was the reason that he had a New York moving company on speed dial. The reason that the city’s police chief was safely in his pocket. Coincidentally, it was also the same reason that I had tried to do the same thing with Ella just a few weeks before.r />
  I appreciated the irony. Nick did not.

  But whether this was payback for that or simply him messing around, I didn’t appreciate it now. In fact, I had never been more pissed off.

  “NICK!”

  “In here!” he called back.

  He sounded neither perturbed nor surprised that I had come calling, despite the early hour. But a part of him had to have been expecting it. Otherwise, why would he already be up?

  I rounded the corner with my hands clenched up into little fists—ready to give him a piece of my mind—only to stop cold for the second time that morning.

  Nick was there alright.

  Sitting in a hot tub. In the middle of the living room floor.

  My mouth fell wide open as all my pre-rehearsed responses flew right out the window.

  I had just been here the other day—no hot tub then. On top of that, I was fairly sure that a living room hot tub was the kind of thing it was impossible to get a permit for. On top of that, I had no idea how he’d possibly managed to fit the thing through the elevator door.

  “You...you have a...”

  He blinked patiently back at me, up to his neck in warm, bubbling jets.

  “Right in the middle of the...why is there...”

  He nodded encouragingly, waving me onward with his hand.

  “That’s it,” he coaxed, “use your feeling-words.”

  I snapped out of my shock in a hurry, planting my feet firmly on the floor.

  “Why the hell is there a hot tub in the middle of your apartment?”

  He glanced down at the water in surprise, as if he had only just realized it was there. “It’s winter,” he said simply. When I gazed back at him in astonishment, he elaborated. “I got cold.”

  I closed my eyes for a second, but decided to let it go. There were other things that needed my attention at the moment. There were bigger fish to fry.

  “So guess what?” I declared, “I’m homeless!”

  Nick’s mouth fell open in shock, his eyes growing wide with wonder.

  “You’re kidding me—that’s terrible!” Before I could say a thing to combat him, he continued on with sudden inspiration. “Hey, I have an idea—why don’t you stay with me?”