The Billionaire's Lie

by Ashley Goss

  The Billionaire’s Lie

  Written by Ashley Goss

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people are used fictitiously. The names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Ashley Goss

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter 1

  Lacey

  As I read the email, my whole body tensed.

  Dear Lacey,

  We have found a problem with your account. It has come to our attention that your scholarship fund has $0.00. We will need a payment of $1,200 by December 31st, 2018 or we will have to cancel your classes. Please go to the Finance office to discuss the details or set up a payment arrangement.

  Thanks,

  Debra Gallagher

  Secretary of Finance Administration

  Upon reading the disaster of an email, I realized my world had flipped upside down within a matter of seconds. How could a single email dictate my emotions so easily? I wasn’t a stranger to such tragedy of course.

  My parents busted their asses when I was a kid to give me simple things like clothes on my back and a decent home. There was always this twinge of jealousy or even annoyance though; why couldn’t I have the blissful life like those rich kids? I wanted nothing more than to have a pair a brand-new shoes, or tons and tons of shiny toys.

  Toys have no value now. Not when the opportunity of having an education is slipping through the cracks. I had no idea what I was going to do. Being my usual faux-optimistic self though, I tried to be proactive. With my luck of course, a failed attempt of work study and sweaty job at the local pizzeria, served to be slaps in the face to only reiterate my fate. The truth of the matter was that my scholarship only covered the first two years. When I applied to school I promised myself I’d be working my ass to have enough for the remaining years. I hadn’t planned on the accident happening though. My dad was never the healthy type, and when you grow up in a shitty neighborhood with barely enough to make the month’s rent, alcohol turns to be the only medicine. He’d drink himself blind every night, and sometimes he couldn’t even remember my name. I forgave him though because he’s my dad, and kids like me understand just how rare it is to know yours. However, these past years turned out to be his karma. His liver turned to absolute shit, and the doctor told us he had stage 1 liver cancer.

  School was already a farfetched idea for my parents, so with the combined risk of my father’s cancer and me not being home to help them, I knew asking for money would be a bust. So, I had to find a way to pay off my school debts on my own. . Because, the future was looking very bleak. If I didn’t have the funds within a month, I would be out on my ass. I couldn’t let that happen. Sure, I wallowed in self-pity and pessimism for a good week, but I quickly snapped out of that puny bubble. I had worked too hard to let that become reality. When I was ten years old I swore I’d be the first to graduate from college and I wasn’t about to fail at my own dream. In order to fulfil my own agenda, desperation became my muse. I would do anything to get my education paid for. I had no choice.

  “You looking for work?” Lindsey Monaghan whispered from behind a wall after witnessing me fall to the floor. I had just been denied yet again another job and things were turning for the worst.

  I was annoyed already and not in the mood for any of Lindsey’s terrible ideas.

  “Yeah, but it’s nothing you could help me with,” I grumbled as I struggled to get myself off the floor. Lindsey snorted and strolled confidently over to me. Her long red hair swished by her full hips just as her brand-new Louis Vuitton bag swung on her shoulder. She stood deathly close to me, a wave of her flowery perfume hitting me in the face. I rolled my eyes. Not actually at her, but at the shiny new bag that glared at my poor, broken self on the floor.

  “Well for one you always wear the same shit every day, and judging by your pleas for help, I’d say you need money. Quick money,” Lindsey retorted with a wink. I sighed. Lindsey was considered the slut on campus, but it was be a mistake to pass off her intellect. She had the highest GPA of our class, and several job offers at big time companies. I envied her so much.

  “Stripping is not on my list of options,” I snarled.

  “Yeah, I’d hope not. You don’t the balls or tits for it,” She chucked. I stood up finally, throwing my bookbag over my shoulder.

  “Piss off Lindsey, okay?”

  “Wait.”

  I sighed. What could this girl possibly want?

  “What, Lindsey?”

  Lindsey looked left and right before moving close to my ear, her raspberry tinted lips practically touching my earlobe.

  “If you need quick money there’s a job service that can provide that. Full discretion. And no, it’s not porn or stripping,” Lindsey whispered. “It’s something much more sophisticated than that.” Lindsey stepped back with a grin spreading across her perfectly structured face.

  I gulped. It sounded sketchy but I needed it. Badly.

  “Okay,” I replied slowly. “Say I’m interested in this...gig. What exactly is it?”

  “Ever heard of escorting?”

  My heart sank. Escorting? No way in hell.

  “You’re crazy. I’m not about to be a prostitute!” I spat.

  “Calm down! It’s not like that! Look, how do you think I get the most expensive bags?” Lindsey shot back as she held out her brand new bag. It seemed to stare me in the eyes, shaming me for owning such a tattered, old book bag.

  “I don’t...want to have sex with some old guy for money,” I winced with a lump growing in my throat. Was that what my life would come to? Sleeping with old guys just to get a degree?

  “Relax. You don’t have to sleep with them. Some just want the company of a beautiful, young girl.”

  “That sounds way too good to be true. You’re telling me you’ve never slept with a...client?”

  “Oh, no, I do all the time. I'm just saying you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Lindsey chirped as she pulled out lip gloss and slabbed it over her full lips. I exhaled heavily. As much as I was against the idea of escorting, it honestly didn’t sound too bad.

  “Fine. Say I was interested. How do I get in?” I took a steady breath. I needed to be strong if I wanted to get myself through this.

  Lindsey dug in her bag and pulled out a single pink card. It had a number and address on it.

  “Go to this address, then call the number. You have to be at the location first though, or else they won’t see you,” Lindsey instructed me. “Also, wear something a little more...sexy. Not too skanky, but something that could show off that figure you have hidden beneath those drapes you call clothes.”

  I rolled my eyes and nodded. Lindsey blew me a kiss then turned on her heel to head towards the elevator. Why did Lindsey Monaghan help me? I had no clue. But I had a lead and I needed to at least try.

  ***

  After basking in fear for a good two days, I took the leap and went to the location. Because what else could I do at this point? I needed money and if escorting was what it came to, then so be it.

  Taking Lindsey’s advice, I also bought a brand new outfit. I’m not the fashionable type, but I needed to make a good impression. There were rows and rows of sexy mini dresses and high heeled boots in the store I wandered in. I didn’t want to look too far away from myself though, so I settled for a tight, grey striped mini dress and heels, praying I looked sophisticated enough for the company to take me seriously.

  The outfit was the easy part though. Slipping into a costume was an effortless task, however playing the part of the sexy, confident girl who chats with older men for money was killer. How the hell was I g
oing to pull that off? I wasn’t a Lindsey who walked like a sex goddess and had guys falling to her feet. I was an insecure mouse who no one ever paid attention to.

  The thoughts were never-ending. I finally made it to the address Lindsey gave me, and I was positive my legs would cave in from shaking so bad. Pulling out my phone, I dialed the phone number with shaky hands, waiting for my bleak future to fall into place.

  “Hello, calling for a brand new lamp?” A high-pitched voice crooned on the other line. I furrowed my brows. Had Lindsey given me the wrong number?

  “What? No...I’m calling about...er...well my friend gave me this number...um..her name is Lindsey…” My voice trailed off. There was prolonged silence on the other line, causing me to immediately accept my fate.

  “This must be the wrong number,” I muttered, starting to hang up the phone.

  “How old?” The other line asked suddenly, their voice quickly flatter.

  “Seriously?” I breathed as my heart pounded in my chest.

  “Height?”

  “Five foot four,” I answered.

  “Hair color?”

  “Brunette.”

  I could hear several clicking noises in the background, which sent alarm through me. Were they writing down everything I said? What if this was a scam?

  “Name?” The voice inquired.

  I paused. I couldn’t give them my real name. I had watched countless documentaries about strippers and call girls, and they never ever gave their real name. My eyes searched around frantically, hoping to find a fake name in a matter of seconds.

  “Er, Gita?” I replied in a small voice as the Bergita’s Pizza starred sympathetically at me from across the street. Gita? What kind of name was that?

  “Alright Gita. A car with be there to retrieve you in approximately fifteen minutes. Please note that this does not ensure you are a part of our services. This will be an interview process, in which our professionals decide if you would make a good addition to our company.”

  I started to say thank you, but the phone immediately hung up, leaving me standing in the empty parking of an abandoned phone company. Kneeling down in my ultra tight dress, I closed my eyes in an attempt to suppress unwanted thoughts. Reality was starting to sink in. Escorting was my only way for survival, and I was awaiting a strange ride to have an interview at this place.

  Tears started to well in my eyes at the turn of events. Who was I becoming? Before I could even attempt to answer my own question, a shiny black car pulled into the parking lot space, stopping right in front of me. I waited for some type of action from them, but no one got out. Sighing, I stood slowly and walked over to the door.

  Pulling it open slowly, I peeked inside. A man dressed in a dark brown suit was the driver, but he never took his eyes off the steering wheel.

  “Gita?” He said in a thick German accent.

  “Yes?” I croaked, slightly forgetting that I had given myself the name.

  “Get in. You don’t have much time.”

  I stepped in the car, buckling myself in. The car then sped out of the parking lot smoothly, hurriedly taking me to my interview. The driver kept his hands firmly on the wheel, almost as if he were a robot.

  “So,” I started to say, hoping to make the ride less awkward. “What’s your name?”

  “Freddie,” He answered immediately.

  “Oh, cool. How long-”

  “No questions. There’s no need for that,” Freddie scoffed, cutting me out.

  I nodded awkwardly. Conversation wasn’t my strong point but I tried to spark it up every once in a while when things were too quiet.

  The ride was impossibly fast though and I couldn’t tell if it was because Freddie was speeding or my nerves. We reached an excluded black building in the very back of a busy plaza. There were tons of people walking about, chattering happily with shopping bags in their hands. It was a ritzy area, which made sense. Rich men probably wandered into the escort building as a threat to themselves.

  My heart was racing in my chest as we pulled into the parking space. Freddie turned off the car, then pointed a long, pale finger towards a red door.

  “Enter there. Say Freddie has brought me. They will take it from there.”

  I nodded and nervously opened the car door. The red door looked like the gateway to hell as I approached it. Freddie sped away, leaving me shuffling towards my fate. My heels felt too high and the dress suddenly seemed as if it would pop open.

  “Just open it you coward,” I muttered to myself. With a very sweaty hand, I opened the red door which was surprising heavy. As soon as it was opened, I found a completely different world inside.

  The walls were red, and the carpet was black with red trimmings. I cautiously stepped one foot in after the other, amazed by the atmosphere. Soft jazz music was playing, and there was a large red couch in the middle of the room. Several young women dressed in lavish clothes were lazily sitting down. Some smoked cigarettes, other applied lipstick and fixed their hair. They were absolutely beautiful. So beautiful that I wanted to ask them their names.

  “Hello, may I help you?” A man’s voice suddenly asked, causing me to whirl around quickly. He was a tall man with blonde, slicked back hair and plump, pink lips. He was clearly wearing makeup, and it matched perfectly with his black and red suit.

  I gulped and nodded.

  “I’m L-, er Gita. Freddie brought me,” I squeaked, the words flying out of me. The man suddenly smiled, his lips stretched across his plastic face.

  “Welcome Gita. We’re glad to see you’re interested in our company. Please sit and wait for one of our professionals to call you in for your interview.”

  I forced a smile back then wobbled to the long red couch. I assumed the girls would scoot over to give me room, but no one budged. Squeezing in on the very edge, I tried to make myself comfortable.

  I sat down and thought about it. It makes sense that a man and a woman would interview me. The company was run by a woman, but a man would have a better idea if the woman would be able to fulfill the expectations of the clients. I sat there waiting patiently for my interview. The more I sat there quietly, the more nervous I got. The building was beautiful. They had it decorated very classy. You would never know what was conducted in this building. All around me were floor to ceiling glass windows, black leather round chairs, and rugs that looked like they had been imported from another country.

  Finally, I saw a beautiful woman and a handsome man walking towards me. The man was probably in his 40’s and was wearing a suit. A suit that you could tell was tailored specifically to him. He had broad shoulders, and you could tell that he kept on top of his physique. If my clients looked like him, this job would be a breeze.

  “Good morning, I’m Dr. Shepard, and this is Ms. Robinson. Would you like to come back, so we can start your interview?”

  “Of course,” I replied.

  He extended his hand and walked with me to the office. There was an L shaped desk, a black leather couch, a couple of office chairs and the three of us. I sat down in the chair without being asked. For the couple of moments, I kept myself from speaking because I wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. I didn’t want to say something stupid, so I just waited to be quizzed.

  “So, Gita , what makes you want to work for us?” Dr. Shepard asked.

  I couldn’t help but think to myself, with you as a boss who wouldn’t want to work for you? I tried to stay focused, but I couldn’t. I began to feel hot, which in turn, made me even more nervous. “Well, I am a college student. I need something to help pay my way. My scholarship doesn’t cover all of it.”

  “Well, first, I commend you for going to college. That’s a smart thing to do. I do want to let you know we have to make sure we only hire best of the best. Our clients want beautiful, classy women to escort them to events. We can’t have anyone that is childish or grungy.”

  Crap, I had failed. Maybe I should have worn something else. He doesn’t like my outfit. Well, much to hi
s demise, I wasn’t going to come dressed in a skimpy outfit. That’s not how I would dress to escort someone to a business dinner. “Do I not look okay? I thought this would be appropriate. I have more classier clothes that I can wear.”

  “No, you look fine. In fact, you have a body that most men would kill to be close to. You’re a brunette with curly hair, which is the most common asked for, and you obviously keep in shape. I have no doubt in my mind that you can do our services.” He said this while carefully taking my body measurements in, almost like he was keeping them for his memory.

  “May I ask what the problem is then?” I asked. Something must be wrong. There was something in his voice that made me feel like a but was coming.

  “Well tonight, you can go out with me. I will take you to an event, and then we will finish this interview. At the end of the night, you can tell me if you would like to proceed with employment or not. Is this okay with you?” He asked waiting for an immediate response.

  I took a second, so I didn’t sound so over the top eager, “Yes.” Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like he was a bad looking man. If I saw him anywhere else, I wouldn’t hesitate to accept the invitation or maybe even more. I don’t have anything against older men. I’ve never been invited to anything by one before unless it was a creepy old guy.

  “I will pick you up around 6pm. Wear something elegant. We will be going to an event with our clients. This will also be your chance to show off. You can so them that you can handle light conversation and what you look like. Come looking like you did, and they won’t be disappointed.” He said immediately getting up and departing from the office. Ms. Robinson took to the exit and gave me an address that he would be picking me up. It wasn’t too far from the college campus, so I could just walk.

  The car dropped me at campus, impossibly fast. I raced inside to quickly get ready since it was already 4:00 pm. I wasn’t sure what to wear, so I raided Angela’s closet. There was a long maroon dress with a high slit on the side. It was classy yet sexy. Exactly what Dr. Shepard wanted. He said I needed to look elegant, but still like I did at the interview. It hugged my curves perfectly accenting my small waist. I hope the clients would like it. In fact, I was about 90% sure they would be drooling over me when I walked in tonight. I decided to leave my hair in curls down to the small of my back and ruby red lipstick. This completed my look. Oh, wait, shoes! I decided on my strappy black heels to go for a more formal but daring edge to the outfit. I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself to make sure I looked both classy but hot. Nailed it!