Saving the Billionaire's Daughter

by Jennifer Youngblood

  He punched in a button and put the phone to his ear. “Ellie!” he barked. “What do you think you’re doing … I saw the picture of you on Instagram.” His voice rose to a roar. “Does your mother know you’ve been out drinking and who knows what else?” His nostrils flared. Whitney could feel the anger boiling in him to the point where she feared he might punch something. Seeing this side of Judd was unsettling.

  “Don’t you dare try to talk your way out of this one,” Judd thundered. “I saw the picture on Instagram. Don’t talk back to me,” he ordered. “You know how I feel about you going to those sleepovers and parties!” The veins in his neck pulsed as marbles popped from the corners of his jaw. “Put your mother on the phone. Now!” He pushed out a hard laugh. “She’s not there,” he grunted. “That’s convenient. If your mother would spend more time taking care of you than at the spa we wouldn’t be in this situation. Ellie?” He swore under his breath. “She hung up on me.” He tried calling her again, but it went to voicemail.

  For a second, Judd sat motionless, starting straight ahead.

  Whitney touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

  Finally, he turned to her, letting out a heavy breath. There was a tortured look in his eyes as a strained smile moved over his lips. “Yeah.” Placing his phone on the nearby side table, he angled to face Whitney. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “It’s okay.” Was it okay? Whitney felt like she was moving into uncharted territory. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

  His eyes misted. “I’m losing my daughter,” he said gruffly, swallowing. Whitney could tell he was trying hard to regain control of his emotions. When he spoke, his voice was flat, defeated. “Ellie’s going down this dark path. I keep trying to pull her back, but Dominique is either oblivious or she just doesn’t care.” He offered an apologetic smile. “You got more than you bargained for today.”

  “How old is Ellie again?”

  “Thirteen.”

  Wow, so young. Whitney’s heart ached for Judd. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say.

  His head swung back and forth. “I keep trying to talk some sense into Ellie. I pray for her.” He shot Whitney a look of desperation. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “It sounds like you’re doing all you can. You just have to keep loving her.” Whitney could have added that yelling and screaming at Ellie wasn’t helping, but there was no need to point that out. Judd was hurting enough as it was. She realized in that moment that money or not, Judd was like everyone else in this world—fighting his own set of problems and demons.

  7

  Judd felt bad for losing his temper in front of Whitney. Seeing the picture of Ellie dressed like a tramp and drunk out of her mind threw Judd into a frenzy. Then, when he read the lewd comments from her so-called guy friends, he’d lost it. Ellie had been hostile, tearful, yelling that Judd just didn’t get her. As frustrated as Judd was over the situation with Ellie, he’d never give up on her. His daughter meant everything to him, and he’d fight for her as long as he had breath left in his body.

  He pushed aside the despondent thoughts and looked across the table at Whitney. He’d taken her to his favorite sushi restaurant overlooking the San Francisco Bay. “Which rolls are you getting?”

  Her features pulled taut as she shifted in her seat. “Um, I have a confession.”

  He tensed. “What?”

  “I don’t like fish.”

  A surprised laugh gurgled in his throat. “You don’t?”

  She winced. “Sorry.”

  He put the menu to the side and turned his full focus to her. “Aw, man. I goofed.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll just order something other than fish.”

  “Yeah, about that.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Fish is all they serve.” He’d wanted to do something to impress Whitney—thought he was being sly by keeping her in the dark about his plans. He never gave it a minute’s thought that she might not like fish. Sure, he suspected that Whitney might be overwhelmed by the jet, but he figured she’d take it in stride. He hadn’t realized that she would find the jet ostentatious. In other words, his desire to impress Whitney had overruled his good sense. While Whitney hadn’t voiced her opinion about the jet out loud, her feelings had been written all over her face. He appreciated how expressive Whitney was. It was a breath of fresh air compared to Dominique’s craftiness.

  Whitney’s face fell. “Oh,” she said quietly, fingering her napkin. A funky tension settled between them as she glanced out the window. She was sitting right in front of him and yet he felt like she was slipping away. He reached across the table, caught hold of her hand, and squeezed it.

  Her eyes met his. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.” She paused. “But I’m afraid this isn’t gonna work.” Delicately, she removed her hand from his grasp. Clasping her hands together, she placed them tightly in her lap.

  Panic raced through him. “Don’t say that. The two of us are great together.” I’ve been waiting for you my entire life, he added silently.

  The regret in her eyes turned them a deep mocha brown. “Your life is so exciting, so thrilling.” She shrugged, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. “You’re top-grade sushi, whereas I’m hamburger and fries.”

  “We can go someplace else,” he inserted.

  “It’s not about the restaurant.” Her eyes misted as she blinked. “My life is ordered, predictable.”

  His words rushed out in a jumble. “I can do ordered and predictable.” A short laugh escaped his throat. “I’m from Laramie, remember?”

  “Yes, we’re from the same town, but we might as well be from two different worlds. You have your business to deal with, your ex-wife, your daughter.” A deep sadness creased her brow. “I just don’t know that I can deal with all of that.”

  Her words came at him like a punch in the gut. “I see,” he uttered. He looked at the angel sitting across from him, her hair aflame with vibrance, her skin milky, her eyes soft and compassionate. She was everything that he could’ve ever hoped for and much, much more. Being with Whitney was like walking in the sunshine after being choked by thick, dismal clouds. Losing her would rip his heart out. “We could’ve been so great together.” He held her eyes. “Give us a chance.”

  “I’m sorry,” she uttered as she looked away, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

  The next day, Judd dragged himself to the office and went about doing his work in a daze. Several times, he was tempted to either call or send Whitney a text, but he refrained. She’d been solemn and distant on the flight back to Jackson. When he dropped her off at her condo, before she got out of his SUV, he tried to thaw the frost by reaching over and caressing her hair. She pulled away and hastily got out like she couldn’t bear to spend another second in his presence. “Goodbye,” she said, a note of finality in her voice.

  A little after four p.m., Judd called Dominique and had a blow-up argument with her. He accused her of being negligent. She accused him of being a self-righteous prude who was trying to keep Ellie under his thumb as a control mechanism. Dominique’s assertions were absurd. The whole situation was so ugly. He really couldn’t blame Whitney for not wanting to be a part of it. He was damaged goods with a whole lot of baggage. No decent woman would want to get roped into his sordid life.

  It was now a quarter past seven p.m. Judd’s stomach had been growling for the past half hour, letting him know that it was time to leave and get something to eat. He just wasn’t ready to go home to an empty house. Kara and Bill would be in their cabin, and Judd would be in that huge place … alone with only his glum thoughts, brooding over how much he was missing Whitney. Also, there was the worry over Ellie and all the trouble she was getting into. Maybe he’d stop by a restaurant, grab a bite to eat, and then go to a movie. At least it would help keep his mind occupied. He was about to check the movie schedule when his personal assistant Jane stepped into his office, wearing a pinched expression.

  He looked up in sur
prise. “You’re here late.” Jane rarely ever stayed past six p.m.

  “Have you been online lately?” she asked crisply.

  His gut twisted. “No, why?”

  She slid a paper across his desk. “This is all over the media. From what I can tell, it originated from the tabloids … in this article.”

  He read the headline:

  2.8 Billion Reasons Children’s Author is Dating Homestay Guru!

  The anger that rushed through him was so swift that it left him dizzy. There were photos of him picking Whitney up at her condo. A photo of him and Whitney boarding his jet. “H—how?” he sputtered, as more of a rhetorical response than actually questioning. He knew from firsthand experience how sneaky and elusive paparazzi were. These photos had been taken with a telephoto lens from a great distance. When Judd first became successful, paparazzi had hounded him. The sharks surfaced again during his divorce but had soon moved on to more fertile feeding grounds. Now, they were back, circling for the kill.

  Countless articles had been written about Judd in the tabloids as well as reputable magazines. Normally, Judd hardly gave them a second thought. However, this article was cutting … personal. It detailed how Judd and Whitney had reconnected at their high school reunion. There were side-by-side photos of Judd and Whitney from high school. The difference between them was glaring. Dressed in her cheerleading uniform and beautiful as ever, Whitney graced the camera with a glowing smile. Judd, on the other hand, was pimple-faced with glasses. He had a deer-in-the-headlights expression as if the camera had caught him unaware. It was painfully obvious that Judd had wished to be invisible back then.

  Blood was pounding like a drum against Judd’s temples. The writer of the article was snarky, insinuating that Whitney was after Judd’s money. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, barking out a dry laugh. A part of him had been holding out hope that he could work things out with Whitney. No chance of that now. There was no mention of who wrote the article, obviously some coward who wished to remain anonymous.

  “What would you like me to do?” Jane asked, straightening to her full, raw-boned height. In her mid-fifties, Jane Dobson was no-nonsense—the kind of woman you want in your corner.

  “Make some phone calls.” He ground his teeth together, his index finger punching into the table with his every word as he leaned forward in his seat. “I want to know who’s behind this.”

  Her eyes narrowed with determination. “You got it.” She turned on her heel and strode out, her posture set in a battle stance.

  A volcano of fury erupted in Judd’s chest as he crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the garbage can. He tried to push aside the rage so he could think rationally. Should he call Whitney? No, better to talk to her in person. A part of him was tempted to go online and see everything that was out there. He knew it would only infuriate him more, however. He closed his laptop and packed it into his leather bag. He stuffed in the files he’d been working on before darting out the door.

  Judd was in his SUV on the way to Whitney’s condo when he got a call from Ellie. He’d been trying to reach her all day, but she hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts. He answered on the first ring through his car stereo. “Ellie.”

  “Dad,” she squeaked.

  His heart lurched. “Are you okay?”

  “D—dad!”

  The alarm in Ellie’s voice caused his blood to run cold. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Honey? What’s wrong?”

  No response, and then coughing.

  “Ellie! Where are you?”

  She began crying. “Dad! I’m trapped.”

  Her despair stabbed like a knife through his heart. “Where are you?” She let out a string of hoarse coughs. Her voice choked like she was having a hard time breathing. His stomach knotted. “Where are you?” he shouted.

  “Logan Masterson’s house.”

  Quickly he searched his brain. “Is that Brian and Donna’s son?”

  “Y—yes,” she squeaked.

  Donna Masterson was one of Dominique’s closest friends. “What’s happening?” Judd’s mind raced through all sorts of horrible possibilities as he contemplated what could be happening. “Ellie,” he shouted. “Talk to me!”

  The silence that followed was deafening. A silent prayer wrenched his gut. Please, help my daughter.

  He jerked the wheel and did a sharp U-turn in the middle of the road and turned around, headed to the Masterson’s. They lived in a neighborhood just outside of town. He could be there in less than five minutes. He pressed his foot on the accelerator and put on his hazard lights. “Honey, are you okay?” His breaths came in gasps, and he felt like he might hyperventilate. “Ellie!” he shouted. The car directly in front of him was going impossibly slow. He hit his horn. “Move it!” It was a two-lane road. It seemed to take forever before he had a window of no oncoming cars so that he could pass. He whipped the steering wheel and veered around the car. Then, he pressed on the gas and sped forward.

  More coughing came over the line—a deep guttural kind that filled Judd with an unspeakable fear. “Fire … smoke” Ellie managed to squeak before a coughing fit overtook her.

  “Honey!” His voice broke. “Get down on the floor. Crawl to the door.”

  Her coughing was mixed with sobs and gasps. “I—I can’t. It’s burning.” Her voice trembled. “I’m scared.”

  It ran through Judd’s mind that he should call 911, but he didn’t want to end the call with Ellie. As unreasonable as it was, he felt like he was her lifeline … or vice versa. “Ellie? Are you there?”

  More coughing. “I’m here. Dad, I—”

  “You what?” The call dropped. A white-knuckle panic locked him in a tight hold. For an instant, he felt paralyzed before a shot of adrenaline went through him. He had to save Ellie!

  He turned into the neighborhood, going as fast as he could while still maintaining control of the SUV. A plume of black smoke churned in the night sky, highlighted by flashing red lights. He pulled alongside the curb, getting as close as he could to the scene. The place was under siege with firefighters, EMTs, police officers, and curious onlookers. He ran up the driveway and began pushing his way through the throngs of people standing behind a stretch of police tape. When he got to the front, a police officer held up his hand. “Hold it.”

  “My daughter’s in that house!” Judd screamed.

  Without waiting for the officer’s approval, he broke through the tape and ran forward.

  “Stop that man,” he heard the officer yell.

  A firefighter stepped up to him. “Hey, buddy. You can’t go in there.”

  “My daughter’s inside.”

  The firefighter shook his head. “No, everyone’s out.”

  Hysteria rose inside of Judd. “I just got off the phone with my daughter. She’s still in there!”

  A second firefighter joined in the conversation. He wore a red helmet, appeared to be in his mid-forties, and moved with the confidence of one in charge. “What’s going on, Colton?”

  “Captain, this man says his daughter’s still in the house.”

  “She called me,” Judd inserted. “I was just on the phone with her a minute ago, but the call cut out.” Time was ticking away. Was Ellie still alive? “Please!” A sob wrenched his throat. “You’ve got to save her.”

  A look passed between the two firemen. Judd was about to run into the inferno and try to save her himself.

  “We’ve got to go in and get her, Cap,” the younger one said with a look of such open concern that it nearly moved Judd to grateful tears.

  “Absolutely!” the captain barked as he began speaking into his radio. “We’ve got one more inside. A girl.” He moved his mouth from the speaker and spoke to Judd. “How old is she?”

  “Thirteen.” His voice cracked. “You’ve got to save her.”

  “We’ll do everything we can,” the captain assured him in the calm, collected voice of a seasoned professional. “Do you know which area she’s in?
”

  Judd’s heart was tapping out a fast beat against his ribcage. “I don’t.” Why had Judd not thought to ask? His first impulse was to try calling Ellie, but in his haste to get out of the Rover, he’d forgotten to grab his phone. Every second felt like an eternity to Judd. A team of firefighters gathered around the captain. They spoke briefly before rushing toward the entrance.

  “Woah, woah, woah,” a heavyset man in a white helmet said as he jogged across the yard. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded of the captain.

  “There’s a girl inside,” the captain explained.

  The man’s hand went to his hip as he shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. Everyone is out.” He glared at the captain. “That roof is coming down any second.”

  “Clint, we don’t have time for this,” the captain argued, pointing at the house. “A girl’s life is in danger. We’re going in.”

  “I’m the battalion chief,” the man argued stubbornly, “and I’m giving you a direct order to stand down.”

  “Forget this!” They were losing time. Judd rushed forward to go into the house, but Colton caught him.

  “Hold it,” Colton urged. “We’ll get your daughter. I promise. Captain?”

  “Let’s go,” the captain said. He took off running with his fellow firefighters following close behind.

  “Your head will roll for this,” the battalion chief shouted after them.

  Fury nearly split Judd’s head in two as he whirled around to the heavyset man whose ego was far too big for his own good. “If my daughter dies, I’m holding you personally responsible,” he seethed.

  The man’s lower lip quivered slightly as he leveled a haughty glare at Judd. “And just who might you be?”

  “Judd Hoffman.”

  The man’s face drained as he clenched his hands. “Oh, Mr. Hoffman. I had no idea who you were,” he stuttered.