Billionaire Single Dad_A Billionaire Romance

by Claire Adams

  “Just…wish my music would take off or something. I’m completely broke. Like seriously, I've barely got two pennies to rub together.”

  “What you need is a job. Like, ASAP, girl.” She took a sip of her wine cooler and nodded for me to pick up one. I grabbed a bottle and popped it open, taking a sip.

  “I don’t want another job like the last one. I swear, my hair started thinning from the stress…and my waist did the opposite. Hell, I have only just managed to get back into my skinny jeans after all the Häagen-Dazs therapy I went through while working for that asshole. I honestly don't think I can do that again. Not like last time. It'll kill me for sure.”

  This time, Grace took off her sunglasses, looking me in the eyes. She meant business. Crap.

  “Look, I know you’re an amazing musician and you seriously have the voice of an angel, but it’s still really hard to get noticed, even with how exceptional you are. There's just so much competition out there, it's honestly more a matter of blind luck than anything else. And I know...I KNOW you have been trying with open mic and booking small, crappy-paying gigs, but you need to seriously consider a regular job for now.

  “I know it breaks your heart to think about it, but we have to be realistic about this. I don't wanna see my best friend lose everything she’s worked so hard for and have to sell off all her possessions on eBay just to put food on the table and keep a roof over her head. Because we both know you won’t let me help you out in the money department like that.”

  My head fell back against my rolled up towel. I knew she was right, unfortunately. Breaking into the music business was not for the faint of heart. It was a lot of work with very little payoff, unless you got very lucky, and luck was certainly not something I could count on. It would happen if it happened, but there was a far greater chance of that not being the case. I would probably have had better luck gambling with slot machines in Vegas, to be honest. As it stood, I was desperately lacking in the luck department.

  “I just don’t know what to look for. I’ve always done the personal assistant thing, but it just gets so stressful, and I want to do something that will actually help my music career, not take me farther and farther away from my music like the last job did. It kills me to do stuff that forces me to put my music on the backburner.”

  Grace emitted a thoughtful “hmm” before taking another sip from her wine cooler. “You know, you could maybe try to find a job at a record label. I mean, they hire office people. Or find a job as a roadie or tour assistant for a band or something, since you love music. There are ways to have a real job while keeping music in the foreground, and that way you might actually meet some people and make some connections who could help you get a foot in the door.”

  “I’m not lugging speakers.”

  “No, not that kind of roadie! I mean, some bands and musicians need someone to organize all the admin aspects of their tours–and believe me, there's a lot. You remember when I was dating that drummer from the heavy metal band? I mean, they weren't that popular, but even on their tour, there was a mountain of tasks to get through just to get everything organized. Musicians need reliable, disciplined people who are good organizers, and with your planning superpowers and OCD organization skills, I could totally see you doing that. Not to mention, like I said, that might just put you in good with some people in the music business.”

  I weighed her words, and, to be honest, it didn't seem like a terrible idea. “But how exactly am I going to do that?”

  “Um, hello? I’ve been trying to get you to talk to the people at the staffing agency I used to work with for how long now? They are usually looking for office help or personal assistants for things like what I've just been telling you about. I could help you get in to see the right people.”

  “Really? That would be amazing!” I suddenly felt a little more excited at the prospect of getting a new job. “Do you know of any bands that are looking?”

  “Well, according to what Sheila told me, Bleeding Heart is getting prepped for going on tour in a month. I think she said something about Mike asking her if she’d be interested in some kind of position for the tour. I just can’t remember exactly what she said. You know I tune her out half the time.”

  “Bleeding Heart?” I raised an eyebrow. The name didn’t sound familiar to me.

  “Oh my God, Nalia, how have you not heard of them?” Grace sat straight up, this time pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. “They’re an alternative rock band. Granted, they’ve been on hiatus for the last five years while the lead singer Owen Young was building his record company—which is hugely successful, by the way—so I suppose I can cut you a little slack there, but they were big while we were in college.

  “You should seriously know who these guys are, though, especially considering that they are as easy on the eyes as they are on the ears! Man, I had such a crush on Talon, the drummer, when I was a freshman. He's super hot! And, like I said, their music is pretty awesome, too. From what I’ve heard, they've just got back together. I think I saw it announced on Twitter they’d be touring soon.”

  “Wait, he also owns a record company?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Young Records.”

  Now that name I had heard of, at least by way of many big names they’d recently signed and new artists they had churned out. And the singer of this band ran that record company? That could prove to be a stroke of luck for sure if they were, in fact, looking for an assistant and I happened to fit the bill. Working with artists of his caliber was sure to net me some decent connections and help me get a foot in the door of the music industry. And then when I got that breakthrough, I wouldn't ever have to worry about being a personal assistant ever again.

  “Are you able to find out if they actually are looking for help? Because if they are, I need that job. Like, desperately need it! I can't think of anything that would be more perfect!”

  Grace shrugged nonchalantly, pushing her long, blonde hair over her shoulders. “It shouldn’t be a problem to find out. I got you, girlie. I’ll make a few calls when we get back. Now, you ready for some surfing?” She put her sunglasses down on the blanket with her phone and wrapped them up before she hopped up, grabbing her board as she did. I followed suit, grabbing my own board. We’d both loved surfing ever since we were little kids.

  “Yes, definitely ready to catch a few waves,” I said, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. Both of us headed for the water. I sighed happily, optimistic for the first time in weeks as the water lapped over my feet and the sounds of crashing waves grew louder in my ears. One of my favorite places to be was in the ocean. I was with my best friend, and the job prospect was looking a little brighter. Things were looking up.

  Once we reached a certain point, we climbed on our boards and started paddling out. Grace smiled, looking over at me as she took note of the size of some of the approaching waves. It was a good day to be out. When we got out far enough, we turned around, waiting for a good wave. When one came, we caught it and rode it out back to shore. I tried to show off a little, but Grace showed me up, as usual. Of the two of us, she was the better surfer, though she didn’t look the part, being such a girlie girl.

  She was the essence of what you’d expect a gorgeous actress to be—beautiful, with bright, blue eyes and a perfect figure. She was an actress on a daytime soap opera, and her character on the show was even girlier than she was in real life. I doubted most of her fans would be able to picture her riding waves. Growing up, on more than one occasion, we’d gotten some condescending comments from idiot surfer boys…that was, until they saw her actually surf.

  “Again?” she called over, whipping her wet hair out of her face and adjusting her bikini. I nodded, and we turned around starting the journey all over again. We did this for a while until our muscles grew tired of paddling out. That’s when we headed back to shore to lay out in the sun a little more.

  I laid my board in the sand, then dried off some before spraying a coat of sunscreen on. I tanned eas
ily, rarely ever burning, so my skin had a nice, honey color, but sunscreen was still a priority as often as I was in the sun. Oddly enough, that was one thing my little, blonde waif of a friend envied about me. She had to practically bathe in sunscreen to keep from getting burnt. I pulled on the hair tie and let my long, brown hair free, trying to untangle some of the wet, wavy tresses.

  “So, you really think that job could be a possibility?” I asked before I even situated myself back onto my towel. “More importantly, do you think touring with a bunch of dudes is even a good idea? I mean, you know what kind of reputation rock bands have with the way they treat women, especially when they're on tour.”

  “Sure, why not? You’re professional; you can handle it. And while some of the guys in the band have a reputation—I can think of one especially—I think they're probably decent enough guys,” Grace said as she lay back on her blanket and replaced her sunglasses. “And, you can call and tell me all the fun stories from the road. I'm sure there'll be a ton of those.” She smiled at me.

  “Humph. I might be a little scared to find those out myself…IF it happens,” I said, trying not to get my hopes up too high. But I couldn’t help daydreaming about it like other people daydreamed about winning the lottery. If this job existed, it was something I wanted.

  “Just make sure to email me a copy of your resume, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Already on it,” I said, typing on my phone. “So what are the plans for the rest of the day, since you’re the one paying?”

  “I’m thinking we catch a few more rays, grab a hotel to shower and get dolled up, then hit the clubs.”

  “Nice. I should date you more often,” I joked.

  Chapter Three

  Owen

  Jay and Talon lugged in several cases of beer. I sighed as I watched them sit them in a corner. I wasn’t much in the partying mood at the moment, but I was the one who’d said we could have a get together after our first practice, so I kept my mouth shut and didn't complain. I even forced a smile onto my face, hoping the others wouldn't notice just how put on it was.

  Judging from the amount of beer they were bringing in and the number of cars already parked in my drive, I could tell it would be a bit more than an intimate get-together. A bunch of people I hadn’t invited had already arrived, and there I was, hanging out in the kitchen while all these strangers were drifting around my place. It was getting harder and harder to mask my annoyance.

  “Here, have another cold one,” Talon insisted as he shoved a beer in my hand, no doubt seeing right through the expression on my face. “And lighten up some, bro. Seriously, you need to stop stressing about this. Things are going to come together with the tour. You already called your friend, we’ll get a hot tour assistant, and we’re going to rock. And, that's all you need to think about, man! Just like it was in the old days—rocking out until our ears bleed.”

  I popped the cap off my beer—my third already—and took a sip, staring at my little brother with that shit-eating grin plastered across his face. I couldn’t help but smile myself. I loved seeing him so happy. Not to mention clean. He shot me a pleased-with-himself look and opened his own bottle, taking a generous sip. “To Bleeding Heart reuniting!” He held out his bottle, and I clinked mine against his.

  “To Bleeding Heart. And you, Talon. I’m really proud of you, ya know,” I told him. He let out a “pfft” and waved his hand in dismissal. “No, seriously,” I persisted. “You kept your promise and got yourself clean, and in return, I kept my promise about the band. This is all because of you.”

  “Quit getting all sappy on me.” He slapped my back and then rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. You can have one sappy hug,” he said and gave me a hug. “Now, come on, have a drink and join in the party. Don't be a bore, sitting and chilling all on your lonesome here. You're the front man of the band, dude! People wanna see you.”

  I followed him into the living room where more people than I even imagined were already hanging out. Jeremiah and Nate were perched in the center, jamming on their guitars for the guests. For the most part, it was a pretty mellow scene.

  I polished off my beer and grabbed another before finding a spot to sit toward the back of the room. I always preferred to observe rather than to actively interact at these kinds of get-togethers, never being one to typically put myself in the mix. This was yet another way in which Talon and I were complete opposites. He’d already managed to wedge himself between two girls on one of the couches, both of them laughing and flirting with him.

  If anyone could say he’d earned the title of ladies’ man, it was Talon. He had the rock star look down to a T, with his platinum hair, devilish green eyes, and thin but fit physique. I was a little thicker than him, taller, and more muscular. Unlike him, though, I actually worked out and, to be honest, I rather enjoyed it. That's not something you'll hear many rock musicians say, but hey, I was never about fitting into the stereotype. Not to mention, in contrast to my little brother, my hair was also dark and short, with the exception of a little bit in the front I usually kept spiked up.

  “Hey, Owen.” A couple of girls walked by me, eyeing me up and down, then giggling. I just nodded to be polite then shook my head as they disappeared. I may not have had a big ego, but I was used to girls checking me out or trying to flirt. It had been a total rush in the early days, but now that I was older and wiser, I'd really gotten over it for the most part.

  Still, that did nothing to damper their enthusiasm, especially if they knew who I was and the amount of money I had rolling in. It didn’t bug me necessarily, but I did my best to keep my distance with women because of it. It seemed I never knew what their real reason for liking me was, and that was something that had gotten more and more important to me as the years had gone by.

  I finished off my fourth beer then got up, heading for the kitchen to grab a couple more. I was feeling a bit better, and it helped ease the pressure from some of the things that were constantly occupying my thoughts.

  Two beers later, I was starting to feel pretty damn buzzed, and I certainly didn’t mind the feeling. It fogged out all the other thoughts and worries in my mind for the time being. I felt a lot more as if I was living in the moment rather than merely stressing about the future and forgetting about the present, which was, admittedly, something I was prone to doing.

  “Owen, you going to come up and play something for us?” Jeremiah called across the room as I stood in the kitchen doorway and polished off my sixh beer. I waved him off, not in the mood to sing to a crowd of people. But Jeremiah didn’t give up that easily. “Aww. Come on. Grace us with the soothing sounds of Owen Young’s angelic vocals.”

  I snorted. “I haven’t drunk enough yet.”

  “Come off it, bro!” Talon chimed in, “You’ve performed in front of a lot more people without a drop of alcohol. Get your ass up there.” That’s when he started chanting my name so that it caught on, and within seconds, everyone in the room was chanting it as well.

  Finally, I conceded, blushing a little despite—or perhaps because of—the alcohol now flowing thick through my veins. I put down my beer and strode over to the area in front of my fireplace that Jeremiah and Nate had been occupying. I picked up my acoustic guitar, slipping the strap over my shoulder, and settling myself on the raised stone of the fireplace.

  “Fine then,” I said, relenting with a smile. “This is a little something I’ve been working on,” I told them, then started strumming my guitar. I was pretty decent on guitar, but with Bleeding Heart, I had chosen to focus on singing and songwriting. Writing was a form of therapy for me.

  I found myself strumming a song I’d written about love. Not that I’d really ever felt I’d been in love. But just the idea of it and what I imagined love would be or, at the very least, could be, somehow found its way into lyrics and a melody. It was a newer song, one I hadn’t shared with the guys yet since I didn’t feel like it was fully finished. Still, now seemed to be as good a time as any to break i
t out and see how people responded, since it was pretty different to the stuff I usually did with Bleeding Heart.

  Everyone listened intently; even Talon quit his flirting long enough to listen. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the music as I sang, not even paying attention to the large group in the room, just getting lost in the melody. When I strummed the last few notes, I opened my eyes to see everyone sitting there quietly, staring at me with smiles of fascination and appreciation across their faces.

  “Wooooo!” Talon called, breaking the silence. Everyone else erupted in appreciative cheers, as well. I blushed, waving my hand dismissively. I wasn’t great at taking compliments. It was an odd trait for a performer to have, but I did appreciate the positive feedback.

  “All right, all right that’s it. I’m done.” I smiled and put my guitar back on its stand, getting up and heading for the kitchen as their cheers quieted.

  “Hey, that was amazing.” A hand brushed my arm, and I turned around, another beer in my hand. A pretty blonde with big, blue eyes stood there smiling at me.

  I blushed again. “Thanks.”

  “My name’s Alicia, by the way.” She put out her hand, and I shook it.

  “Owen…though, I’m guessing you might have already known that.” I smiled, feeling more than a little of the beer buzz now.

  “I did,” she giggled and pushed her hair back, taking a sip of her cocktail. “I mean, you did just have your name chanted through the living room. So, what are you doing hiding out in the kitchen? Not much of the partying type?”

  “I suppose not,” I laughed, looking her over as she leaned closer. “Not with a ton of people, anyway. I don’t know half the people the guys invited.”

  “Oh, well, if it makes you feel better, neither do I. We could hang out in the kitchen, now that you know me,” she said with a wink. Alicia was definitely cute and had a nice figure, accentuated in a pink, baby doll dress that showed off some rather impressive cleavage. Her grin widened when she caught me looking.