Ashton, who didn’t meet me in a limo, who hasn’t yet done as he promised he would the next time we met.
Alyssa, in a blue dress that flatters her every elegant curve, making her look like far more than a PR agent.
And some man I’ve never seen. I’ll bet he’s forty or older, but he’s breathtakingly handsome. He has a square jaw covered in stubble with flecks of white. He has thick waves of jet black hair, the same vague hints of early gray at the temples. He’s wearing a black blazer with a white pocket square, a starched white shirt opened to the third button. The ends of a black bowtie hang from under his collar.
Compared to Ashton’s polished finish, the second man’s undone look should appear sloppy. Instead it looks alluring. He strikes me as a powerful man who arrives unshaven and undoes his tie at the best restaurant in town not because he’s uncomfortable, but because he’s earned the right to do whatever the fuck he wants.
Ashton sees me eyeing the other man, and a strange look crosses his face. He’s obnoxious and rude enough to eschew manners, I’m sure, but he’s rushing to stand, pulling out the empty chair between him and Alyssa. His eyes dart between me and his companion, who I now see is watching Ashton with a satisfied smile.
Ashton flicks his eyes toward Alyssa to make introductions, but his hesitation costs him. The new man speaks first. “So you’re Jenna.”
“Hi.”
He takes my hand. His are large and beautiful. Strong and worn, despite his obvious wealth. “I’m Cole. I apologize for not meeting you out front.”
“Why would you meet me out front?”
Cole’s eyes tick toward Ashton. I see a challenge drift between them and I know this is exactly what he was hoping I’d say. “Well. Nobody else was going to. Nor provide a ride for you.”
Ashton scoots around and takes my free hand, tugging me slightly. My hand falls from Cole’s as a mischievous smile touches his lips.
Ashton leads me to my seat then waits for me to sit.
Chivalry emanates from Cole, but drips like syrup from Ashton. He is handsome, stately, immaculately dressed and groomed, elegant to look at — but his manners feel artificial, like something he’s never done, and is now attempting from a manual to gain an advantage.
Ashton looks from me to Cole. “Jenna, this is Cole Ellison.”
Cole, looking amused, says, “We’ve met.”
Alyssa sits forward, seemingly determined to save Ashton. She catches my gaze, and in her brown eyes I see a clear message: Cole doesn’t know you’ve been hired; we told him you’re Ashton’s date. So play along.
I’m desperate for some idea of what we’re doing. “I saw some people with cameras outside.”
Alyssa nods, still watching me intently. “Yes. Lots of press.”
I get it. The press is here because Alyssa leaked something. This is the first of our publicity stunts: my debut as Ashton Moran’s girlfriend.
But if that’s so, why didn’t he pick me up?
Why didn’t we arrive together, if we’re supposed to be a couple?
This must be how Ashton handles all of his dates. And that’s terrifying, because if I’ve guessed right, it means that neither Alyssa nor Ashton understand how a normal romance is supposed to work. And we’re going to play the love game for months?
A girl isn’t instructed to arrive at a fancy restaurant on her own!
That’s 101 stuff, obvious to even a scrub like Jean. What the hell am I into?
I tell myself to relax. Maybe they’re going for realism. Maybe it’s a slow boil. Ashton’s a cad, so Alyssa is probably presenting him that way to start this transformation.
It’ll take a while to turn a rude-mannered frog into a gallant prince.
“Cole is President and CEO of Sage Business Systems,” Alyssa says.
I look again. I’ve never heard of Cole Ellison, but I’ve for-sure heard of Sage. My friend Georgia moved to LA, hoping to make it in Hollywood, and gave me an earful about how streaming has changed the game.
Georgia said she didn’t need to be a big-screen star; the new model and Internet ubiquity has opened a B tier of movies that are sold directly to the consumer. Sage Business Systems makes most of its money these days by providing streaming media and cloud storage for a mass digitization experiment that’s swallowing Hollywood.
I only know what Georgia told me, plus the chatter you hear online, but Sage is a big behind-the-scenes name. HUGE, with its fingers in everything.
I’d have to check to be sure, but that must make Cole a billionaire, too.
And I think:
Nathan Turner.
Ashton Moran.
And now Cole Ellison.
Most girls don’t know any billionaires. I’ve already met three.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JENNA
COLE REARRANGES HIMSELF, LACING HIS hands together atop the white linen tablecloth. “I know. Bummer, right?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Here you are, thinking you were going to go on a date. Just you and Mister Fabulous. But then you end up at a table with Mister Fabulous’s publicist and some other guy.” He smirks. “I guess that’s romance among billionaires.”
I look between the men. On one level, it’s interesting that Cole has confirmed my thoughts about his finances, as if he could read my mind. But on another level, it’s clear that something else has passed between these two men. I get the feeling that the mention of the word billionaire wasn’t a statement about the men’s balance sheet. It was a blown secret — something the world isn’t necessarily supposed to know.
But doesn’t everyone know their net worths? How is that a surprise?
Unless the surprise is in their dining, as if they’re drafting a deal.
Unless it has something to do with some of what I’m now remembering Alex told me on the phone — about Nathan, and Ashton.
He’s involved in something. Something with other billionaires.
Deals within deals. The sort of thing that’s shrouded in secrecy.
The kind of agreements that somehow shove the world forward.
Sort of a club, Alex told me.
I look at Cole, who smiles.
“Jenna,” Ashton says. “You mean a lot to me. So there’s something you need to know.”
I look at Alyssa and realize what Ashton is actually saying: He’s alluding to our agreement, in words that won’t give us away. Ashton is saying that by the terms of our agreement, I’m going to be around him a lot. He could hide certain things, but I’m bound to find out eventually, so he’s going to tell me now, knowing that our NDA will keep me from blabbing.
And whatever those things are, I’m about to learn at least one, involving Cole Ellison.
I look from Cole to Alyssa, then to Ashton. “Was it supposed to be just the two of us tonight?”
I’m considering the logic of all this, and of Ashton’s libido. My libido. We’re supposedly in a relationship, and that means we’re meant to be seen. But it also means we’d be horny, and planning for two extra people at dinner would cramp our style.
Ashton nods. “Sorry. Cole and I have … business. I guess we have to get some of it done tonight.”
“Don’t worry,” Cole tells me. “We already talked through a lot of it before you arrived. But when I realized that my good friend Ashton was having dinner here tonight, same as me and Alyssa, well … it would’ve been rude not to join them. Am I right?”
I look at Alyssa, then point between her and Cole. “Are you …?”
“No. But she’s my publicist, too.” Cole laughed and looks at Alyssa, then he cocks his head. “Or at least, she may be soon, after getting such a glowing recommendation last week.”
And with that final hint, I see what happened.
Cole and Ashton are playing some sort of a game of chicken — a billionaire’s way of comparing dicks to see who’s bigger. I’m guessing Ashton referred Cole to Alyssa, and now Alyssa is courting Cole as a client. They must have gone out to
dinner … and surprise, surprise, it just so happened that Cole manipulated things to be there when we were. Sometime before I showed up, Cole must have invited himself and Alyssa to join the table that was supposed to be for me and Ashton.
And sure, Cole claims there’s a reason. But if they’ve already discussed their business, then why is he still here?
Clearly, this little game is for my benefit. Cole’s put Ashton between a rock and a hard place, where he must either commit to his lie about loving me (by letting me in on some kind of a secret he’d otherwise not divulge), or be forced to admit that it’s all a scam.
And I think, Men.
Always competing.
I’m supremely uninterested in their power games. I came for dinner as part of my job. Cole’s super hot, but it’s annoying that he’s started this … whatever it is with Ashton in front of me.
Ashton should be fumbling and awkward. He and I still don’t like each other despite our apparently finalized agreement, and now he’s trapped and having to make false declarations while inviting me into his inner circle.
How embarrassing.
You mean a lot to me. So there’s something you need to know.
But he doesn’t look embarrassed. He has this tiny little corner-of-the-mouth smile, and strikes me as the world’s best-dressed puppeteer. As casual and charmingly disheveled as Cole appears, Ashton is immaculate. His black hair is slicked to a shine. The collar on his white shirt is so starched, it looks like its edges could cut glass. The knot on his tie is perfect and his matching pocket square is fluffed so perfectly it looks sewn that way.
He looks like a devil who has already trapped his hapless prey.
“I wouldn’t have told you what I’m about to if Cole hadn’t pressed me,” Ashton says. “But because we’re together, I guess I should share it.”
Cole looks delighted, like he’s forcing Ashton to admit something against his will. But I’ve seen the look in Ashton’s dark eyes and know it’s Cole, not Ashton, who’s in trouble.
“Cole and I …” He hesitates, pretending to be reluctant when he’s not. “We’re in a … a sort of ‘club’ together.”
Cole’s smile widens. He feels sure that Ashton and I are making up this relationship thing, and seems to feel that getting Ashton to tell me about their club will make me a liability. Ashton will be stuck with me because I’ll have confidential information that only a real girlfriend should have.
Maybe Cole wants Ashton uncomfortable for the fun of it. But I’ll bet there’s more at play. Whatever business deal these two enter into next, Cole will start their negotiations on top, with him having one up on Ashton.
But Ashton’s eyes tell me that’s not what’s about to happen.
“A club of billionaires,” Ashton says. “A syndicate, as it were.”
Cole pats my hand. “Ashton must really care for you, to tell you this. I guess he’s in it with you for the long haul.”
A condescending smile.
Another condescending pat of my hand.
“Of course,” Ashton says, “Jenna already knew all about it.”
Cole turns his head, surprised.
“Because of her best friend and roommate, Alexandra Wynn,” Ashton continues. “You must’ve met Alex, right, Cole?”
Now the older man seems dumbfounded. “Alex …”
“You know. Nathan Turner’s new girl.”
This hits a bullseye. Cole’s face goes from cocky to slack. I don’t know much about what Ashton’s implying, but Alex surely does, and in time I’d have wrangled the rest out of her. Alex has the ear of our third billionaire, Nathan Turner. And from what I already know about Nathan, he’s an expert connector. Whatever this secret club is, Nathan is its hub.
“Funny thing about Sage Business Systems,” Ashton goes on, talking about Cole’s company, enjoying the look on his competitor’s face. “Everyone knows about the Hollywood films they’ve brokered to store and stream direct-to-consumer, and how much money that’s made for the company. But they don’t usually give Cole credit for masterminding his other deals, under the table, with his good friend Ben Stone.”
Ashton’s hand is on my leg. It’s hard to say how, but I can feel meaning in his touch. It isn’t sexy, though it could definitely get there. It somehow says Pay attention and play along, because this is about to be awesome.
I glance at Ashton. He looks back at me, more eyes than a full turn of his head. And I feel something rise inside me, seeing the change in those eyes. He’s always struck me as aggressive and cocky, overbearingly arrogant. But right now, his look is mischievous. It says that we’re in something together, sharing a grand and hilarious joke at Cole Ellison’s expense.
So I say, “Ben Stone … why do I know that name?”
“EverCrunch,” Ashton says.
“The Dropbox competitor?”
“Better than Dropbox.” Ashton’s flick toward Cole. “The compression algorithms are much, much more efficient. There are some mutterings in our circles—” And here, Ashton makes a lazy little spiraling gesture with one perfectly manicured finger, indicating our table full of insiders and the powerful people who touch it. “That one day, Ben Stone’s company EverCrunch will change the nature of the Internet itself.”
I know I’m supposed to be playing a part here, so I ham it up a little, widen my eyes. “Wow. That’s incredible.”
“But what’s incredible right now is the way that EverCrunch is changing the streaming of another form of related media.”
Cole seems caught. Whatever Ashton’s about to divulge, Cole looks like he had no idea that Ashton even knew.
“What?” I ask.
Ashton lowers his voice. “Porn.”
“Porn?”
“Now wait a second,” Alyssa says.
Ashton holds up a finger. He’s leaning in, speaking to me, ignoring Alyssa.
“Cole is such a genius that he’s started this whole other thing with some friends of ours, using his tech infrastructure, EverCrunch compression, and content from others. But it’s all so hush-hush. The idea, as I understand it, is to create what they’re calling ‘Porn 2.0.’”
“Really?”
Ashton nods. “It’s made Cole secretly twice as rich as what the world knows.”
The penny drops and I realize what this is all about. Cole is hiding wealth from the other members of his “club,” and I’m smart enough to see that’s a no-no.
Somehow Ashton knew.
But if anyone else found out …
Seeing that I get it, Ashton smiles in my direction.
“Now, that’s a secret. So don’t you dare tell Alex, or she might tell Nathan.”
“Oh, of course,” I say, looking up at Cole. “Girls don’t share secrets anyway.”
Cole’s eyes dart around. I don’t know if he’s eaten yet, but he seems to be searching for the exit.
“We should go,” Cole says to Alyssa. He awkwardly reaches for my hand and adds, “It was nice to meet you.”
I shake his hand. But when he turns to give Ashton his goodbye, I almost laugh at the evil grin on my fake boyfriend’s handsome face.
“Thanks for suggesting I come clean to Jenna. It feels fantastic, confessing to the woman I love.”
Cole shakes Ashton’s hand, then sixty seconds later he and Alyssa are out the door. Waiters come to our table en masse to remove the extra settings, but Ashton and I can’t wait until they’re gone before we burst into laughter.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JENNA
ASHTON IS SUCH A DOUCHE. I’m finding I don’t mind it, maybe because I understand him a bit better now. When boys are little, they battle to see who can make the biggest Lego castle. They wage war with Nerf swords to see who can stay king of the mountain. In high school, they want the best car they can afford — or, failing that, at least a decent bike. A cool haircut. Competition is everything.
It’s hard-wired into these little boys — a compulsion, not necessarily to do their best … b
ut to do better than the next guy. Being good doesn’t always matter, as long as they leave each encounter feeling like they’re at least a fractional inch longer where it counts.
What happened with Cole Ellison was like a gorilla thumping its chest to prove his dominance over the lesser males, and as an evolved modern woman, it’s my sacred duty to find it all disgusting. But I find it hilarious instead — not that Ashton bested Cole in a competition that probably doesn’t even matter, but that winning was clearly so important to them both.
Beating a rival (though it’s complicated; I think Cole is also an ally) has a nearly masturbatory effect on Ashton. His pent-up tension is gone once Cole and Alyssa leave and we’re both laughing.
Ashton was coiled tighter than a spring. That breed of alpha-asshole looks damn good on him, but it rubbed me the wrong way even while he was rubbing me right at the zoo. It’s funny, now, to see him unwind. Like he’s finally blown his load, and is free to stop thinking about the competition long enough to be a person for a while.
I don’t know why we keep laughing after the initial volley, but everything is hilarious. When waiters clear the extra settings, it’s funny. When we discover one of Alyssa’s forks still on the floor, it’s ridiculous. When a guy comes around and asks if we want more wine — or, for me, a first glass — Ashton says yes in the most gut-splitting way.
I point out that I’m twenty and not allowed to drink. One of the waiters hears this and turns his head, but Ashton pulls some bills from his pocket and slides them into the waiter’s pocket. The bill on the outside is a hundred. Ashton says, with a sort of gangster affect, “You didn’t hear nothin’.”
And that’s so funny I snort wine from my nose, and we laugh until the ancient couple at the closest table stares us down.
We drink.
We drink some more.
With the evening lubricated, I find myself opening to some of the ideas that were so aggressively foisted upon me earlier. It’s true that Ashton and I like similar movies and music. I like clothes and so does he — albeit at dramatically different price points.
Trillionaire Boys' Club: The Clothing Mogul Page 7
