by Imani King
Nicholas: A BWWM Billionaire Romance
Imani King
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Also by Imani King
About the Author
Copyright © 2016 by Imani King
All rights reserved.
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over. Kindle Edition
Join my newsletter! http://eepurl.com/blwtg5
1
Adisa
Rain looks at me across the desk, eyebrows knitting together and lips pursed in an exaggerated romantic face. "I've been really tryin', baby... Tryin' to hold back these feeling for so long... And if you feel, like I feel baby, then come on, oh come on," she sings to me, and then cracks up. She practically brings that ‘ROFL’ thing to life. I smack her arm lightly, playfully. "Oh hush now Rain!" I feel my cheeks flame anyway. It's embarrassing but true: I am having dreams now. Dreams of my employer, Nicholas, with his dark hair, those eyes with their hint of soft sweetness, the perfect amount of stubble on his cheeks, framing a soft, kissable mouth. "It's business, nothing more."
I'm telling myself that as much as I'm telling her. Besides, he’s married. And to a gorgeous woman. The one time I was in his office, there was a picture of a beautiful and thin blonde woman with, shall we say, a fantastic figure. Tiny waist, lithe body. I can’t really see the line of her breasts since they’re covered with flowing hair, but from the hint of cleavage, she seems not to be lacking in the boob department.
I've only been working here a few months now - I applied for and took the job as soon as Rain called me and said it was available. It's nothing special or important. Just some basic filing and data entry. Pretty mindless work. Thank heaven that's so, because I don't think I could handle much more pressure along with my waitressing job at the Rustik, and what’s been going on at home. But when this came up, I snagged it right quick. It won't last long, just until Chikae and Darius’ birthday week, but it'll get me up to and over that. My little sister Chikae and my brother Darius deserve a celebration to remember. They've been dealing with a lot since our mom passed this year, very suddenly, of cancer. It was end-stage when we all found out, and we only had what seemed like a few days to say goodbye, before the morphine kicked in and her face became unlined and peaceful and she was gone.
But what I hadn’t been expecting was that ever since, Dad seems to have pretty much checked out. From everything. Sure, I know Mom was his world - she was all of our worlds. The glue that bound us together as a family. The one to do all the little things to make things special for all of us, who would think of exactly who needed to be called about this or that event and what someone’s best-loved type of cookie is. She’d have filed away in her mind everyone in the family’s favorite dinner, from great-grandmother to newest niece, and be able to whip it up with a smile, happy to share.
I remember when I was a kid at Christmastime, she'd stay up late wrapping presents and decorating. Otis Redding would be on the old stereo, singing "Merry Christmas, Baby..." and she’d croon along in her high, fluty voice. It was her mission to make everything perfect for us - it was just what she did. But now she’s not here anymore, and since dad is still heartbroken, it falls on me to try to make up the difference for the kids... and I have to admit it to myself - everything takes time, but more than that - it costs money.
And besides, I’m grieving too. And one thing I grieve is that I never told her exactly how much all that thoughtfulness and effort meant to me when she was alive. I vow that I will never let good people go unappreciated again.
Rain snaps her finger in my face. "Hello, Planet Earth to Adisa!" she says, grinning. "Where were you, girl, I've been talking to you for the last five minutes! Damn near talking to myself, I guess!“ Thank god she's here. Otherwise it would be pretty lonely. And not just that, but clearly I would get tangled in my thoughts way too often. "Sorry!" I smile back. "Just thinking about Darius and Chikae." Rain’s mom-like in her own way, about fifteen years older than me, but just as lovely as ever. Black don’t crack, after all, so she looks good. But her manner is sweet, motherly, with just the right amount of mischief. I love her. I don’t want to bring her down with the thought of my mom and her untimely passing.
"Are you sure? You've been going off into La La Land pretty frequently lately - and I think it has to do with Mr. Hot-Stuff Boss man!" She nods knowingly at the office door, where Nicholas has been holed up the last few hours.
"No, for real," I say. "I’m thinking about the kids’ birthdays. I just want to make this year's birthday celebration awesome for my bro and sis, and you remember they’re the same week - Darius’ day is coming up first, and then Chikae. You know, I want things to be special for them.”
“It will," she says, face softening. "You're a very good big sister. But it wouldn't it all be a lot easier if we had the kind of screw-it money that Nick does?" Her face scrunches into a sympathetic smile.
"I wonder," I reply thoughtfully. “It's strange, but he doesn't seem all that happy, does he? Always looks stressed out whenever he's in the office." I thought of him rushing in today, past our desks, phone glued to his ear, shutting the door quickly behind him. Sure, money’s great and important, but it can’t buy happiness. I guess it can buy some pretty nice things though. Hence my working here.
“Yeah, but how often is he here, really?" Her fingers clack as she keys in a line of data. "I bet he doesn't look stressed out when he's at his country ranch or on his yacht!"
"He has a yacht?" I gape. "Are you serious?" “Well I can’t say I’ve been on the thing, but that's what I heard!" She says as she leans forward and grins, brushing imaginary long locks away from her face. “Can you imagine? I’ll have another G and T, please,” she leans back and comically looks over her glasses. “On the double.” I giggle, about to play along, but just then the office door opens and all six-foot two of him steps out, a business suit clinging to his musculature. Damn, he looks fine. But still, that scowl on his face. I quickly go back to typing up a storm, hoping it doesn’t seem too obvious that we were goofing off.
He nods at us as he walks by. Is that a glint in his eye? Don't be silly, Addy, you're imagining things, I tell myself. What would a gorgeous billionaire want with you? He’s been in the Manhattan society pages for crying out loud. He and all those gorgeous brothers. Or most of them anyway. I heard there’s one in Texas as well, on some ranch, running a non-profit or something. Name begins with R, I can’t remembe
r. Another one, Dylan, I just saw on the cover of some magazine.
When the day is finally done, I jump in my car and go to pick up the kids at school, which is yet another one of my jobs since mom passed. But, believe me, I am not complaining about this one since it's a job I do enjoy most of the time. Seeing their anxious faces, as they scan the line of cars looking for me, transform into happy smiles and sweet childhood abandon is always the absolute high point of my day. I want to be there for them and they know it.
One day I do dream of having my own kids, but for now, little bro and sis are everything to me. “Addy!” yells Chikae, jumping in the car. Her eyes are bright. "I wanna show you what I made today at school!" She rummages through her pink backpack. “Wait! It’s here somewhere!” Her hands get more frantic.
“I’m waiting, no rush!” I reassure her, patting her shoulder as I look at the traffic to assess my chance to pull out. No such luck yet. Darius pushes his hand in between the front seats, waving a paper. I grab it and hold it up. "Look, I got a B on the math test!" He cries. "Wow. Good job, Darius.” I am so proud of them. I’m not sure they’ve fully grasped the fact that mom isn’t coming back, but they do seem to be still doing well in school, which is so important. “You guys are fantastic," I say, brushing one of my unruly curls out of my face and smiling at them. I’m really wiping a tear but they don’t need to know that.
"I wish mom could see," Darius says, suddenly looking out the window. My heart spasms.
"She can," I reply quickly, wanting to believe it myself, but sometimes you need to act as if that that kind of thing is real whether you’re sure about it or not. Especially when the person you're talking to is eight years old. "I bet she's looking down from heaven right now with a big smile on her face, just so proud of you guys."
Darius sits back, and I see a small grin appear on his face. "You think so, Adisa? For real?"
"For real!" I put the old car into gear, and the engine coughs a bit before lurching forward. "What's wrong with the car, Addy?” Chikae’s eyebrows are knitted together. Her hands grasp each other, wringing. I’m silly to think that the stress isn’t getting to her. Wishful thinking on my part, is all it is.
"I’m sure it’s nothing too serious, Chikae. But you know these old cars, they're like old people. They break down every now and then." "Do cars get sick?" Chikae wonders. She's six, so all this must be confusing.
"Not really, but occasionally they do need a tune up." Chucking her under the chin, I say, “Nothing a good mechanic and a few dollars can’t fix, I’m sure.” Like we have that many extra few dollars. I flick the dial on the old radio, and she stops me when she hears Taylor Swift.
"I love that song! Shake it off!" she sings, bouncing up and down in her seat. Darius joins in and soon the whole old car is creakily bouncing down the street.
"Can we stop at McDonalds?" Darius asked. "I'm hungry."
Arg. That's not in the budget, and besides I'm going to be making dinner later. "Nah sweetie, you'll spoil your appetite." "Awww," he moans, and turns to look out the window. I'm momentarily happy that his current troubles have more to do with not getting a Big Mac than anything else. Sometimes you gotta grab on to those small victories, right?
"That stuff ain't good for you anyway," Chikae admonishes him, spinning around in her seat.
"Isn't," I correct her. "But otherwise , Darius, Chicky Boom Boom is right!" I say, carefully stepping on the gas. We're almost home and soon it'll be time to start cooking, then off to the restaurant for the late shift. I yawn just thinking about it.
"Hey, don't call me that!" Chikae pouts, but I know that on some level she loves it. She may to be grown up already, but she’s still a little girl. Her hand reaches out to squeeze my arm, and then she just holds on to it, while her other hand plays with her bottom lip. She's lost in thought. "Mommy?" she says absentmindedly. "I mean, Addy, where does the snow come from? Does it come from heaven?"
My mind is immediately transported back to mom’s funeral, and then the sadness in Nicholas' eyes, and I clear my throat. "It does come from the sky, from the clouds, like the rain. It's been pretty cold lately so I wouldn't be too surprised if we got more..." I trail off, as now I am the one lost in thought. Nicholas.
“Snow comes from the clouds in the sky,” Darius yells from the back seat. “Stupid head! Everyone knows that!”
“Hey, be nice to your sister,” I admonish. “I remember when you didn’t know things like that, and it wasn’t that long ago.”
“Sorry,” he says, half-heartedly, and looks back out the window.
“That’s ok,” Chikae replies in a rather airy magnanimous tone. Then she adds, “Poop brain.”
“Chikae-” I start, but then a horn blares in the street, making me jump. "Sorry!" I yell to the other driver, but he gives me the finger anyway. Sometimes you can’t win. I turn up the music again to distract the kids, but soon we are pulling up outside our house.
They tumble out of the car and run to the door, their backpacks trailing.
2
Nicholas
The car roars into life. I wish I were roaring into life right about now. If only Stephanie would just be reasonable. Truth is, this divorce is taking everything out of me. I'm more than willing to set her up 'to the style she's become accustomed,' but it appears that she just wants to ream me.
Some women.
Best to just concentrate on what I can control, and let me tell you, it's not Stephanie. The whole thing is taking forever too. We started this divorce before Christmas last year and it's only being finalized now. The lawyer left me three messages today. She's just got to sign those papers. I wish it were as easy to get her to sign as it is to get my employees to do their filing. Speaking of which, that cute new girl. What's her name? Adisa with an A. That's it. I'm not going to forget it since the day she came back from the coffee shop with 'Ed Isa' written on her cup. She and Rain were giggling about that. They think I can't hear them, and most of the time I can't. But when the door's cracked a bit I definitely can make out a few things - especially when they get loud. But as long as they're doing their job I don't mind. Their chatter cheers me up.
And I can use some cheering up these days.
It's not like I am at the office all that often. Mostly I stay out of the day-to-day, but lately it's been so dull at the country house that I've been making excuses to get dressed and come into work. It used to be filled with excitement and love, that big house in the country. My heart catches as I think of how we used to talk about having loads of kids to fill up the place.
Of course, that was before we found out Stephanie had mild infertility issues. But we could have been the lucky ones - it's not like we couldn't go for treatment. We could definitely afford it. The best doctors, the best options, and as many times as we wanted. But I guess she was just going along with my wishes. In reality, she was stalling the whole time - apparently she was never quite as keen as I was to have babies, and I’d never have tried too hard to persuade her. It’s just not part of me to push like that, especially when I am not the one who would be carrying the baby.
But one of the saddest parts of it all for me was that I think she didn't want to lose her figure, and so she just strung me along as long as she could with talk about surrogacy, adoption, whatever. Like I would mind if she had a few extra curves on that body of hers. I’ve never minded “a little something to hold on to” in bed, as we used to say in Texas. I would have loved her either way, and if she were to bear my children I would have worshipped the ground she walked on. Stretch marks or no stretch marks. But she just didn’t feel as strongly as she pretended to when we talked about getting married and building a life together.
I thought I knew her. Thought I saw a light in her eyes when she talked about kids with me.
‘Howsomever,’ as my dad used to say, I guess it was just a fantasy. That's all it ever was, possibly. Even the marriage itself.
In any case, sometimes I like to keep the office door open just a c
rack so I don't feel so alone. Rain and Adisa with an A are always so cute and friendly with one another. It's like listening to talk radio or a podcast. But I wouldn't mind just hanging out with them too, at the water cooler at least. Or more. Adisa in particular – I can’t pretend I didn’t notice how pretty she is, or the intelligence and warmth in her dark eyes.
Whenever they see me coming though, they jump into action as if I don't know what's usually going on. It's pretty funny. And Adisa's eyebrows furrow in the most adorable way as she furiously types into the computer. I try to hide my smile, play the boss role, but at some point I'm going to crack up laughing.
I flick the stereo system on in the Land Rover, and I hear a guitar for all of three seconds when the phone rings over the stereo system. It's my lawyer again.
"Nicholas!" He barks. "I just wanted to give you an update on the situation."
"What is it?" I ask, trying not to sound as weary as I feel.
"She says she'll sign if you up her alimony an additional five grand per month. We're fighting it, but I just wanted to let you know where we're at."
"Give it to her," I sigh.
"What's that?" I hear him choke, or cough a bit. I know he’s trying to get me the best deal. But I’m just sick of the whole thing.
"Give it to her. As long as it's contingent on signing." I run my hand through my hair. "I gotta be done with this."
"You're sure!" His voice is gruff. "We can fight this thing."
"I'm done fighting," I say finally. And I know it's true. I never wanted to fight in the first place, and I can afford it. I just want us all to move on - for us all to have a chance at happiness. 5K per month is a small price to pay for that.
"Ok, hang on." He puts me on hold for a minute. I wish the music would kick back in, but there's just a tense silence. "All right, we're drawing up the papers.” His voice is gruff but reassuring. “I see the light at the end of the tunnel, kid!"
