Double Wood_An MFM Billionaire Romance

by Samantha West

  “It’s not that hard to explain,” I say, clapping him on the back, “she is smart, gorgeous, kind, funny, and when you’re with her you feel excited. Did I miss anything?”

  “You missed the part where she wants both of us.”

  “That’s the beauty of it,” I say, laughing. I swear I feel crazy for saying it, but I feel totally sane for feeling it. “I don’t begrudge you anything, and if she wants both of us, that’s a boon for both of us. This is perfect.”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he says. “We just met this girl.”

  “You’re right. Doesn’t change how I feel right now, though.”

  “There’s something else,” Elliot says, taking his phone from his pocket. “The main office has been blowing up my phone all morning. Apparently one of the firms invested in this venture is looking for a status update on this deal.”

  “Why do they care?” I ask. “We’ve always been able to deliver. And we have an understanding with them. We deliver, they stay off our backs. It’s worked out for us really damn well so far.”

  “They want to know the status,” Elliot shrugs.

  “So this is what has you all worried?” I ask. “It’s fine, we will take care of it. It’s not like we can twist this girl’s arm into selling, anyway. If they want an update, we will give it to them.”

  “You think she’s any closer to agreeing to sell?”

  I run my hand through my hair.

  We want this deal, and we want it bad. But I’m starting to want her more than I want the deal. The deal is starting to recede into the background, and as I look around our half-completed office, I wonder how much longer we are going to be doing this dance with her.

  “I think she will sell,” I say. “It’s the right decision for her. She knows how much power we have behind us. She knows that we have the right contacts and know the right people, and can turn her place into something she can be proud of.”

  “She’s already proud of it,” Elliot says, “that’s part of the problem. She thinks of it as her baby. She’s too emotionally invested in it.”

  “I don’t think it’s possible to be too emotionally invested in something, man,” I say. “She has to do what’s right for her, but I do think she will sell. Her other option is going to be closing up shop. Whether it’s in six months or a year, it doesn’t matter. That hard reality is just around the corner for her, and she’s smart enough to know it. She isn’t some naive girl. She knows what’s going to happen. And it’s not her fault what happened to the alley. I just hope she knows that as well.”

  “Look,” Elliot says, glancing at his watch, “it’s almost time for our meeting with her. Let’s tell the guys to break for lunch, go pick something up for them, and then go meet with Scarlett. We can feel out how where she’s at. And, if I recall correctly, you’re going to be playing your first game of bowling.”

  “For her, I’ll get my hands dirty,” I laugh, turning to the crew. “Lunch in twenty minutes, guy. Start packing it in.”

  I clap Elliot on the back as we head for the door. It’s sunny outside, and the air is calm and still. I can hear the chatter of our crew cleaning up and the chirping of birds in high trees across the street, behind a row of small shops. I could get used to it here.

  Elliot

  The bells over the door chime as we enter the old Italian deli.

  “Good afternoon,” the man behind the counter says cheerfully. “Welcome.”

  “Hey,” I say, waving a hand to him, turning to Mark. “This was my favorite place back in the day.”

  We’re in the old deli one town over from our new office space, and because these are small towns, it’s only about a ten minute drive away. It smells like garlic, fragrant and sweet, red wine, and simmering tomatoes.

  “I can see why you like this place,” Mark says, glancing around. “Everything looks fucking awesome.”

  I hear a little gasp from the man behind the counter.

  “Excuse my language,” Mark says, putting his hand up. He shoves his hands into his pockets and smirks, rocking back on his heels. “So Elliot, what’s good here?”

  I look around, noticing that it hasn’t changed a bit. There’s a counter of pastries in one corner with little cakes and confections on display, from mini tiramisu and cannoli to rainbow cookies and pignoli. On one wall, there is a variety of fresh and dried pastas packaged in every size you would want.

  “Literally everything,” I say, walking over to the counter.

  I look up behind the counter at a big chalkboard listing the sandwiches available.

  “How can I help you?” the man behind the counter says. He is shorter and stockier, with a kind smile, wrinkles, a white apron, and hardened knuckles when he places his hands on the counter.

  “We were hoping to place a large order,” I say, checking the board. “Can we get a six foot meatball parm hero and a six foot Italian hero?”

  “Feeding a crowd?” the man says, folding his hands and smiling.

  “Yeah,” Mark says, “we have a construction crew of about ten guys.”

  “Where are you working?” he asks, taking a couple of hero rolls from a basket behind him.

  “Main street,” I say. “We are building out an old space for an office. We aren’t going to be in town long, but we took the opportunity to purchase a space here. We’re going to fix it up and use it temporarily.”

  “Why are you boys in town?” he asks.

  “We’re here because we are looking to purchase some property,” I say.

  “Do you know the bowling alley about twenty minutes from here? The Gutter?” Mark chimes in.

  “Oh, yes,” the man says, nodding thoughtfully. “Great little place. Scarlett is a great girl.”

  Mark and I share a glance as he smiles at me.

  “She is an absolutely amazing woman,” I say.

  “So you boys want to purchase her property?” the man says.

  “That’s right,” Mark says. “It’s incredible what she’s been able to do with it, and we want in on it.”

  “Hm,” the man says thoughtfully. “That’s odd. I didn’t know she was thinking about selling.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. He has piqued my curiosity.

  “She’s just very driven. And she’s alone. Has been since her genitori passed away. But it’s none of my business, is it?”

  “You’re entitled to your opinion,” Mark offers.

  “It’s just a shame, what happened. Her father got cancer and passed away, and the family was beginning to move on after about five years. From what I understand, Mrs. Kates had just been granted a loan to revamp the business. They were going to modernize everything. Scarlett was excited and was looking forward to learning the family business. And then unfortunately Mrs. Kates was diagnosed with cancer herself, and Scarlett took everything on her own shoulders.”

  “That’s terrible,” I say, feeling my heart speed up. “I didn’t know that. We were aware her parents were not around, but we didn’t know what happened.”

  “That’s life, isn’t it?” the man behind the counter offers, shaking his head. “Doesn’t make it any less bitter to admit it happens to everyone.”

  “You said you didn’t know she was thinking of selling,” Mark says.

  “She’s had other offers. God knows she’s had other offers,” he says, laughing. “But she’s a fighter. She is holding on until the bitter end, from what I can see.”

  I cross my arms and look over at Mark. I don’t know what to say next. We knew she was hesitant about selling; she has been clear about that, and even though we’ve been able to entice her, we know this is still a hard sell. But if I am being honest with myself, this conversation has put the situation into a new light.

  It’s made me admire her even more. It’s made me feel for her even more. And it’s made me more hesitant to convince her to sell. At the same time, however, it’s made me feel that she needs our help more than every. And I know we can give her the he
lp she needs.

  “Anyway,” the man behind the counter says, “let me throw in some fusilli salad to go with your sandwiches. And you boys enjoy your time here.”

  “Thank you,” Mark says, smiling at the old man.

  “We think the guys are going to love everything,” I say. The man behind the counter goes into the back with a smile and I see him busying himself with fresh cold cuts and a big pot of marinara sauce, scooping out several big, mouthwatering meatballs onto a sheet pan, adding thick slices of mozzarella.

  “God,” Mark says, lowering his voice. “I had no idea.”

  “She’s strong,” I say.

  “She just continues to amaze me,” Mark adds.

  “You are getting soft, my friend,” I say. “This is not like you at all. What happened to the old Mark?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “This girl just has the effect on me.

  I feel myself smiling. He is right. Scarlett is amazing.

  And the more I learn about her, the more I begin to realize how I want this all to end. The more I realize I know how I want this deal to go.

  Scarlett

  A high-pitched yelp curls through the air as I rush over to the arcade.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I say, trying to sound as soothing and maternal as possible. The little boy looks up at me, tears pooling in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering. I kneel down next to him and shake my head at what he’s gotten into.

  Somehow, this little one has managed to get his arm stuck inside a claw machine.

  “Sweetheart,” I say, “what happened here?”

  He is stuck at the elbow where the prizes come out. The more he tries to pull his arm out, the more it gets stuck.

  “I wanted a prize,” he says softly, “and I was out of quarters.”

  The little boy is about six, and he is wearing a red striped shirt and denim overalls. He has sandy blonde hair and he is so little that I’m surprised he was able to get his arm stuck in here at all.

  “You wanted to go in from here and grab a toy, didn’t you?” I say.

  “Yes,” he says, hanging his head.

  “It’s okay,” I say, “you were able to get your arm in there, so we know we will be able to get it out. Right?”

  “Okay,” he whimpers.

  I gently straighten his arm out at the elbow and he is able to pull his arm from the machine.

  “Thank you,” he says, rubbing his elbow.

  “Now which toy were you trying to get?” I say, glancing at the claw machine.

  “The purple teddy bear. I wanted to give it to my friend.”

  I smile at the little boy and stand up, grabbing a key from my big key ring, and open up the machine.

  “This one?” I say, grabbing the purple teddy bear from the back of the machine.

  “Thank you!” he says, taking it and running off.

  This was a new one. I’ve had to save kids from the lanes and literally had to walk into the gutters to grab them, but I’ve never had to rescue one from an evil claw machine before. I laugh to myself and shake my head. For the sake of safety, maybe I should just give away stuffed animals for free, or maybe make them prizes for kids who are able to knock over a certain number of pins. Of course that would cost money, but maybe it would get more people in here.

  I look around. For an early Saturday afternoon, I’m not doing a lot of business. The bar is empty except for two older men who come here alone, often during the day, and tend to nurse one or two beers over the course of several hours. They watch the news or the games I tune to on the TVs above the bars, and every so often they make little comments to each other or to me. They are good tippers and it seems they don’t really have anywhere else to go.

  I make my way over to the bar and slip around to grab a beer for one of the men sitting on the other side.

  I have another meeting with Elliot and Mark today, and I need to remind myself that even though I am completely and utterly infatuated with them, I need to keep a good head on my shoulders for the sake of my own future.

  Waking up this morning, I felt as though last night was all a dream. After they dropped me off at my apartment, I was nearly unable to make it up the stairs to my apartment. They’d offered to walk me up, and Mark nearly insisted after Elliot politely took my insistence that I was fine to get upstairs on my own. By the time I got to my front door and got inside, I collapsed onto the bed in my tiny studio apartment and thought it was all a dream. I was only back in the real world of my safe apartment for two minutes before it all came back to me like it had never really happened.

  Because that couldn’t have been me. I wouldn’t have done something like that. Except that I had, and it felt amazing. It felt delicious, and naughty, and very, very good.

  And dangerous and wrong, too. It’s been too long since I’ve been with one guy. I’ve had a few one night stands in my life, mostly to take my mind off of my stress. It’s fun to get lost in another person, even if it’s only for a few hours, even if you know nothing will come from it. Afterwards, though, I always ended up feeling empty. That’s why I’ve only had a few one night stands in my life. They feel good temporarily, but then I always ended up feeling more alone than before.

  But this was not a one night stand. And this...this was not just with any guy. This was with two dangerously sexy men who I was drawn to instantly, and I knew from the beginning that they would be sticking around.

  I exhale deeply and begin busying myself with stacking a few freshly washed glasses. There’s always something to do around here, always some big or small task to take my mind off things.

  But right now, my mind is spinning. Mark and Elliot are going to be here shortly, and I can’t wait to see them. I’m still conflicted about selling the place, but I feel like I’ve been nudged little by little toward making a decision.

  I’ve been holding on for too long. As much as it pains me to admit it, this place is doomed given my limited resources. There’s just nothing I can do to get the ship back on course. I’ve tried everything. I’ve hired a marketing firm, and that helped a bit, but after the TV and radio commercials were completed, things died back down after the old-school novelty wore off. I’ve tried giving things away for free, I’ve tried doing karaoke nights, I’ve tried prizes, I’ve even tried getting on social media and nearly begging people to come.

  And it’s all worked a little, to some degree, but then it’s just gone back to how it was. A half-empty bar with a few regulars, some partiers on the weekend looking for cheap eats and beer, and a few little kids’ birthday parties. I am simply not pulling in enough revenue to keep the place open.

  I think I’ve known it for a while, and I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I think I realized years ago that this wouldn’t last forever. Nothing good ever does.

  I’m nearly lost in thought when I see Carlo walking into the bar.

  “Well hello there,” he says, coming around behind the bar.

  “Hey Carlo,” I say, putting the last glass on a stack. “I almost forgot you were scheduled to work today.”

  “That’s because you don’t think of me as an employee,” he says, “you think of me as a friend.”

  “A friend I give money to to come to my place of business and help me run things.”

  “I guess you do think of me as an employee,” he smiles.

  I don’t know what’s going to happen to Carlo and the rest of the small staff. That’s part of my concern in selling, but they’re doomed anyway if they stay on this sinking ship with me. Maybe I can negotiate a way to keep them on if I sell to Mark and Elliot, of course that’s if my staff even wants to stay on.

  “Thanks again for closing up a couple nights ago and letting me get out of here,” I say to Carlo.

  “My pleasure,” he says, “you deserve a night off once in a while. You’ve been in here every day for what seems like years.”

  “Not Sundays,” I say. I shake my head and smile at Carlo. I know even if I do sell, he wi
ll be the perfect person for Mark and Elliot to hire back as the bartender.

  “So how was your night last night?” he asks.

  I sign and feel my lips turning up into a smile.

  “I kind of had a date,” I say.

  Carlo’s eyes snap to mine and he smiles, and I can see he is nearly bursting with questions.

  “What? With who? How?” he asks in quick succession.

  “You honestly wouldn’t even believe me if I told you,” I say.

  “What the hell are you talking about? You aren’t going to tell me?” he says, eyes wide, a grin on his face.

  “No, of course I am going to tell you. Okay,” I take in a deep breath, “I went out with Mark. And Elliot.”

  Carlo’s hands come to his mouth and I see his eyes smiling. He gasps audibly and I shush him and wave my hands for him to keep it between him and me that we’re discussing something like this.

  “No you did not,” he says.

  “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “I need answers. First of all, explain exactly what you mean by date.”

  “Okay,” I say, leaning against the bar, “they picked me up from my apartment. We went to the city. They showed me a little amusement park they own at the pier. Then we went to dinner.”

  “Yep,” he says, “that’s a date.”

  “I know,” I say, though now that I’m saying it out loud it’s a little hard for me to believe it really happened.

  “So did they fight over you? Did one of them say they liked you and the other said they were just along for fun?”

  I swallow thickly and feel my skin heat at the memory of them in the back of their car.

  “They didn’t fight over me, no,” I say. “They kind of made it clear that they both like me.”

  “And who do you like more? Who did you choose?”

  “I...I didn’t have to choose,” I say.

  “Wait,” Carlo says, “you’re not saying…”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, “I am.”

  “Holy shit,” Carlo whispers, his gaze shifting from my eyes and looking past my shoulder. I turn around and see Elliot and Mark coming into the bowling alley through the front door, all cool, slick, sexy confidence, with big, mischievous smiles on their faces.