Battling the Billionaire
Kate Ashgrove
Published by Kate Ashgrove, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
BATTLING THE BILLIONAIRE
First edition. June 12, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Kate Ashgrove.
Written by Kate Ashgrove.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1 | Jenna
Chapter 2 | Devon
Chapter 3 | Jenna
Chapter 4 | Devon
Chapter 5 | Jenna
Chapter 6 | Devon
Chapter 7 | Jenna
Chapter 8 | Devon
Chapter 9 | Jenna
Chapter 10 | Devon
Chapter 11 | Jenna
Chapter 12 | Devon
Chapter 13 | Jenna
Chapter 14 | Devon
Chapter 15 | Jenna
Chapter 16 | Devon
Chapter 17 | Jenna
Chapter 18 | Devon
Chapter 19 | Jenna
Chapter 20 | Devon
Chapter 21 | Jenna
Chapter 22 | Devon
Chapter 23 | Jenna
Chapter 24 | Devon
Chapter 25 | Jenna
Epilogue
Thank You/Newsletter/Also By
Also By Kate Ashgrove
Many thanks to Melissa Rasmussen, my creative consultant, Paula Bothwell, my editor, Victorine Lieske, and Amy Klaus
Chapter 1
Jenna
Jenna snuck into her mother’s room and crept to the closet, feeling like she was six years old rather than twenty-six. She felt around in the dark, careful not to make a sound. Finally her hands brushed across the worn shoe box. She opened it and pulled out the three-inch heels, picturing the cherry-red color as she ran her finger across the smooth surface. Then, clutching them close, she tip-toed out, leaving her mother shifting on the creaky mattress.
With a feeling of reverence, she slipped on the shoes. She stood in front of the cracked full-length mirror, turning this way and that. Nothing she wore was her own. Her friend Tali had lent her the black dress. Jenna liked the way it hugged her curves and flared slightly at the knees. It wouldn’t pass for a Vera Wang, but Jenna hoped it was enough to help her blend in. Blending in was key when you were attending a high-class function you hadn’t been invited to, and hoped to make your way out of with as little notice as possible.
Her mother’s red shoes were a nice touch. They made her legs look long and muscular. She might even pass for tall. Most importantly, they’d give Jenna courage, and remind her that she was there for one reason: to help her mom.
Jenna remembered the days when her mother would don these shoes and a nice dress and go out dancing with her father. She could almost smell her mother’s perfume as she’d take Jenna’s face in her hands to kiss her goodbye.
But their lives had changed so drastically since then. Her father had passed away when she was a junior in high school, and her mother’s health had started declining during Jenna’s senior year when the first symptoms of her mother’s autoimmune disease appeared.
Jenna tucked a strand of blonde hair back and perfected the line of her lipstick with her fingertip. Tires crackled on the pea-gravel outside, and she headed to the door. Jenna paused, wondering if she should bring a jacket, since the weather had turned cool in the evenings. But she realized that everything she had would look ridiculous with her dress, so bare arms would have to do.
She closed the hollow door of the single-wide behind her and hurried to Tali’s car. But before she reached it she heard the creak and slam of a screen door.
“Honey.” The smoke-scarred voice reached her, along with the shuffle of slippers on gravel.
Smiling, Jenna turned around. Gertie hung over the once-white fence between their trailers, her colorful house dress puckering between the wooden slats.
“Hi, Gertie.”
“Where you going, looking so hot this whole park’s likely to be burned to the ground before I can even call the fire department?” Gertie’s laughter came in short, rough bursts.
“I’m just going to a party with Tali.” Jenna hoped Gertie didn’t catch the lie in her voice. The old woman would just worry if she knew the two of them planned to turn that party into a protest against the insurance company that had been denying her mother’s claims for years.
“I never seen you dolled up like that.” Gertie looked Jenna up and down, her expression suspicious and a little concerned. “Your mother know?”
“She’s asleep.”
Gertie nodded. “I’ll check in on her.”
Jenna hurried over and gave Gertie a quick hug. “Thanks. I shouldn’t be back too late.”
“Better not be. That pretty dress might turn back into used lotto tickets and shopping bags.” Gertie laughed again. “I’m just kidding, honey. You go have fun. Heaven knows you deserve it.”
Jenna’s smile was forced. Going to a party for fun? That wasn’t her life. It was going to be wild night, though—maybe even the kind that could land her in jail.
Tali started to squeal when she opened the door, but Jenna put her finger to her lips.
Tali looked like she was about to burst, but she waited until the car bumped its way over pot-holes all the way out of the trailer park. “Girl, you do look hot,” she screamed. She made a sizzling sound as she poked at Jenna’s behind.
Jenna laughed, swatting away her hand. “I know, right? You look pretty cute yourself.”
Tali was wearing a short, blue prom dress she’d picked up at the thrift shop where Jenna worked. It was formal, but a little on the short side. Her hair was swept into an up-do, with some of her magenta tips still showing. Jenna had meant what she said. Tali always looked fabulous, and she definitely had style. But she couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. Even in her black formal dress, Jenna was afraid she’d stick out like a sore thumb. Knowing Tali though, if someone suggested she didn’t belong, she’d bring them down with one crusty, condescending look.
“You’d never know we were a couple of girls from the wrong side of town,” Tali said.
Jenna rolled her eyes. “If you ask me, we’re headed to the wrong side of town. Just the thought of mingling with those disgusting people, drinking champagne and celebrating while hard-working, decent people—”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Tali cut in. But her eyes were sympathetic. Suddenly she smiled mischievously. “Just try to stuff it all deep down inside and be pretty and charming for a little while. Then you can let it burst into a big, ugly, PR nightmare for TrueLife Insurance.”
Jenna nodded firmly again. “Thanks, Tali. I can’t believe you’re up for this. Actually, scratch that, I can.”
“You know I’m up for a good time any time I can get it. And I totally respect your disdain for the overprivileged, but forgive me if I enjoy pretending to be one of the rich and famous just a little while.”
“Just don’t let it go to your head. You got the stuff?”
Tali motioned to the back seat.
Jenna smiled, turning to grab the two contraptions so she could tuck them into their purses. When activated, they would splatter red paint all over, hopefully ruining the fancy black tuxedo of Devon Ward, the new CEO of TrueLife Insurance Company. If all went well, they’d use the delayed timer, and be out of there by the time it happened.
Tali came up with their most creative protests. She thought the red paint would be dramatic, a message that blood was on their hands. As exhilarating as it all was, Jenna had to admit she was nervous, though. Usually their plans involve
d less property damage.
Tali seemed to pick up on Jenna’s nerves. “This is gonna be a fun night!” she shouted, leaning over to nudge Jenna with her elbow. Jenna laughed, cueing up “Fancy” by Reba McEntire on her phone and plugging it into Tali’s jack. They sang together at the top of their lungs as they drove toward Federal Heights, the most affluent neighborhood in Salt Lake City.
When they finally reached the skyscrapers, glowing with the reflected sunset light, they headed up North Temple and into the avenues. Jenna always loved driving past the large old homes full of character. This part of the avenues was an interesting mix of wealthy people who took pride in the upkeep of these historic homes and struggling college students who divvied up the rooms of the less expensive ones. But as they drove further up into the mountains, newer homes began to appear. They drove past sixties ranches, then split levels, all meticulously cared for. Jenna had never been this far up above the avenues.
She turned the radio off, looking around nervously. The homes were nice, and the view alone made them worth a fortune, but they didn’t look grand enough for a party like this. “Maybe we missed it.”
“You worry too much,” Tali said.
Stacked boulders and dry grasses lined the narrow road as the homes got further apart. The houses were nestled into the mountain side, and they all faced the city, where they could look down up on the lower class. The deepening twilight made it even harder to get a good look at them. But Jenna could tell they were much larger and newer than the ones they’d seen a few minutes ago.
“Man, what I’d do to live in one of these houses,” Tali said, a dreamy look in her eyes. “I’m not picky, any one of them would do. As long as it has a pool, and I’m sure they all do.”
The road curved around, revealing a large iron gate. The navigation app dinged. “Your destination is on your right.”
Tali slowed and turned down the tree lined drive, which led them around to the front of the house. Jenna’s draw dropped, and Tali gasped. Lights glowed in the huge windows and shined on the creamy stone exterior of the three story mansion. A large fountain danced in the center of the circle drive, its performance almost as good as the one Jenna had once seen in Vegas. People were strutting inside arm-in-arm or chatting outside in tuxedos and flowing gowns. A knot formed in Jenna’s stomach, and not just because of the way these people were living while her mother was slowly dying on a crappy thin mattress in a single-wide.
“They’re going to know. They’re not going to let us in,” Jenna said, twisting her fingers together.
“We have an invitation,” Tali said calmly.
“It’s stolen!”
“They’re not going to know that. We totally look like Mike-from-work’s-great-Aunt-Winifred-who-can’t-even-remember-she-was-invited-plus-guest.”
Jenna swallowed. “Okay, but which one of us looks like a Winifred? It’s an old lady name.”
“You are Winifred. I’m your charming niece.”
Jenna couldn’t help laughing. “Cousin, maybe. How about you’re Winifred, and I owe you big time?”
“You already owe me big time. I could turn this car around right now,” Tali said sternly.
“Fine.” The knot only twisted tighter at Tali’s mention of the car. The dented-up, twelve-year-old Taurus was totally not going to blend in.
“Where do we park?” Tali asked.
Jenna noticed a young man in a suit standing at the curb. “I think you don’t park. There’s a valet.”
“Of course there’s a valet,” Tali said in her snootiest accent. “A hot valet.”
Jenna frowned. “Makes a quick getaway difficult. We better hope things go smoothly.”
They pulled up and Tali put the car in park. The excitement and nerves made the air between them nearly electric as they looked at each other.
“Ready?” Jenna asked.
“Crap, I forgot to google what Devon Ward looks like.”
Devon had only been running TrueLife for a few months, after his father passed away. Jenna hadn’t done a lot of research on him yet, but she knew the company was just as bad under his leadership as it had been under his father’s.
“We’ll do it inside.” Jenna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she stepped out of the car, giving the valet a wide smile. He held his hand out. Tali hurried over to shake it, but Jenna nudged her hard with her elbow. She dug into her purse, trying to shield the device inside from his view, as if he’d notice or care what she had in her purse. Finally her fingers found a crunched up bill. She pulled it out, looking anything but elegant as she smoothed it out. Crap. It was a twenty. She paused, reaching toward her purse to see if she could find anything else, then she stopped herself. She looked up at the young man, who was watching her as if he’d never seen such a ridiculous display. With a flourish, she handed him the bill.
“Don’t spend it all in one place,” Tali called as they walked away.
“Shhh.” Jenna nudged her again.
Tali only giggled. “What? Did you see the way he looked at you?”
“I have a feeling we’d better get used to it,” Jenna said, trying to fake confidence and grace as she reached the grand entrance.
Chapter 2
Devon
Devon stood still, his posture tense as Charles smoothed his lapels.
“Will that do it?” Devon asked. “Would I make my father proud?”
Charles raised an eyebrow. “If so, it would be a first.”
Devon laughed. Charles, his father’s right hand man and president of the company, had been affectionately hurling insults at Devon since his first big growth spurt.
“Well, you have to start some time.” Devon’s own words rang hollow. Why did he have to start some time? Ever since he’d tucked his business degree away in a closet and headed for Europe instead of working for his father’s company as planned, his father had been anything but proud of him.
So why did he care what his father thought now that he was dead?
He didn’t. He’d cared about the pain in his mother’s voice when she’d told him his father had passed away, when she’d said she needed him at home. And of course Charles had given him a big spiel about how devastating the loss of his father had been for the company, and how his son’s presence could bring stability to a business that employed and provided care for hundreds of thousands. If it had been anyone but Charles he might not have listened.
And there was one more thing. Even though he’d never had much interest in the insurance business, he’d always liked the idea that his father had built a business that helped people. If his mother had taught him one thing, it was that your family name mattered, and as far as he could tell, this was the only good thing his father had done with their name. He couldn’t let it fall to pieces.
Devon glanced at his reflection. He looked like a phony. In Europe, he’d grown a beard, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to let his dark-brown hair curl around his collar a bit. Now he was sheared and shaved and shined-up like the fake executive he was. He’d inherited his share of his father’s billions, he’d agreed to let them slap his face up there as head of the company, but it was all for appearances. His heart wasn’t in it.
He swallowed and straightened his posture, running a hand over his too-smooth jaw. Then he headed out to join his mother.
Jaqueline stood greeting guests in the entry, with the sparkling light from the overhead chandelier reflecting off her chunky diamond necklace. She was clutching her fur-ball of a Pomeranian, Romeo. She gave Devon a Botox smile as she approached him, but even though the smile was stiff, her brown eyes showed genuine pleasure. She kissed Devon’s cheek.
“You look so handsome, just like your father.” She paused, concern creeping into her eyes. Suddenly she handed Devon the fur-ball. “Here, take Romeo to Carmen for me. He doesn’t really like these events.”
The corner of Devon’s lips lifted as he took the dog. “A man after my own heart.”
“What’s that, de
ar?”
“Nothing.” He gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, and turned, glad to have an excuse to delay a night full of introductions with people that looked as fake as he did.
“Oh.” Jaqueline took hold of his arm. “Peyton was looking for you.”
Devon went on immediate alert, his eyes darting around to find Peyton. She was Charles’s daughter, and director of public relations for TrueLife. She was beautiful, tall, and curvaceous, with strong, stunning features. She and Devon had dated back when he was in high school, when she and everyone else was sure he’d make a good substitute for his father someday. Since his return she’d taken to calling him by her old pet name for him, Devy. She seemed eager enough to pick up where they left off now that he was wealthy enough or important enough or whatever it was women suddenly saw in him.
Devon spotted Peyton making small talk with someone who had enough clout to arrest her attention, and ducked his head, making his way toward the kitchen. As he walked by a server, he smoothly slipped the tray of delicate champagne flutes onto his own hand. Devon gave the server a wink, and he smiled and asked no questions. Carmen, their head housekeeper, was always cranky at events like this. Devon would need an offering when he handed over the dog.
As he dodged through tuxedos and black, backless gowns, careful not to make eye-contact for just a little longer, his eyes caught on a burst of red. He stopped short, focusing on the glossy shoes that led upward to delicate ankles and slender calves, and eventually the black-clad curves that made up the rest of the small woman, who stood just a couple of feet away. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a way that was graceful in an effortless way, and her red lips were turned up as she whispered in a conspiratorial way to a pretty but slightly unhinged-looking woman next to her. How could he not notice them in a room full of people that looked more or less the same?
She made eye-contact and Devon stepped back, feeling a jolt of ogling-induced embarrassment. But he realized his moment wasn’t over when he felt something under his heel. Just as he turned to apologize to the server whose foot he’d just stepped on, Romeo took the opportunity to leap from his arms toward the serving tray of meaty hors d’oeuvres. Devon somehow managed to hold the teetering tray of flutes aright but he cringed, expecting to hear the crash of Romeo sending the other tray to the floor at any moment.
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