The Billionaire Brute

by Hart, Romi

  “No. You said you’re going shopping to Whole Foods. All it took was a brief visit to your social media page to see what city you call home, then I looked up the Whole Foods nearest us, and there you go.”

  “Congratulations! You’re a creep.”

  “Oh come on!” he laughs. “Nothing creepy. I just wanted to talk a few minutes.”

  “About what?” I say, carrying on and continuing to search for fruits.

  “About whatever, you know. You’re the one on Facebook, always posting about your life. You seem like the type of person who enjoys chatting, and you’re obviously lonely since you basically announced what store you were going to.”

  I sigh and laugh loudly.

  “You wanted me to find you. And it’s cool.”

  “First of all, no. I did not want you to come and stalk me. And yeah, maybe I do share too much online, and with random people I meet, but that’s not an invitation to butt into my life.”

  “I’m just talking!”

  “Look, I’m sorry to sound mean about it, but besides the accident, which you very generously volunteered to pay for, we don’t really have anything to talk about.”

  “Sure, we do. Don’t you believe in fate?”

  “In what?” I ask, genuinely surprised by the statement.

  “Fate, you know. Our paths crossing for a reason.”

  “No, I believe in people colliding into my car and then making up silly excuses to have pointless conversations. Is that what this is? Probably.”

  He laughs, and I smile back at him. I honestly don’t know what he wants from me at this point. Is this a game? Is he a serial killer?

  “I totally believe in fate. I think we met each other for a reason.”

  “Oh really?”

  “In fact, I think I know what that reason is now. The universe conveyed it to me.”

  “Oh! Do tell. What did the universe tell you?”

  “That for all the arguing we did, and all the nasty things we said to each other, I’m still very attracted to you.”

  My mouth drops open and I laugh hard.

  “I know. Crazy, right?”

  “Thanks, but…” I shake my head, still in disbelief.

  “But what? You have a great body. I’ve been fantasizing about you ever since that first day, and I was definitely sizing you up the first time I saw you.”

  “I…I…” I shake my head in disgust.

  “MILF-attack, know what I’m saying?”

  I open my mouth again, shocked at his crudeness. “Okay, thanks. But no. Not today, not ever.”

  “Why? Are you married? I can keep a secret if you can.”

  I give him a dirty look, and not the kind he wants, I’m sure of it. “No, I am not married. But I am still rejecting you. Even if I was single, Byron, absolutely not.”

  “Why? Am I that hideous? Or maybe you just don’t like charming rich guys?”

  “Yeah!” I giggle. “That must be it. Couldn’t possibly be that you’re full of yourself and are the complete opposite of guys I WOULD date.”

  “Oh, so you do date guys?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, that’s something to work with. So at least you’re not a spinster who’s angry at the world. You are getting out there and looking.”

  I tighten my brow, glaring at him.

  “I envy the man who has a one-night stand with you,” he says looking me up and down. “You look like you really give a man more than he can handle. That’s the beauty of older women and I really like enthusiasm in bed.”

  I wasn’t even wearing anything sexy, just jeans and a modest white blouse. But he’s eyeing me like I’m a swimsuit model or something.

  “Byron, what the hell!! Does this pickup line actually work on anyone?”

  “Hmm…” he says, looking up. “I honestly don’t know. I usually get laid on the first date because women ‘love’ me so much for my money, you know.”

  “That’s sad,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Nah, shagging my brains out every weekend feels more like a happily ever after ending,” he says with a grin.

  “Well, honestly Byron. I tried SO hard to resist you, I really did. But calling me a ‘MILF’, an ‘older woman’ and bragging about your one-night stands is just turning me on so much, I can’t resist anymore. Let’s do it.”

  “Yeah? Meet me in the restroom?”

  “Oh my God!” I scream out loud. “You can’t even detect sarcasm anymore. You poor man-child!”

  “What sarcasm?! I told you the truth. I think you’re very sexy and I want to sleep with you. You said okay.”

  “I was being sarcastic because your way of hitting on women is crass, boorish and quite frankly, ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. But you know, money, fame and good looks do like ninety-nine percent of the job for me. I just have to avoid saying hashtag MAGA and women throw themselves at me.”

  “Well, I feel sorry for those girls and their low self-esteem.”

  “Oh! Oh, I see the problem.”

  “Do you?” I can’t help but smile. “Starting to realize your arrogance?”

  “You’re one of those uber Christian types.”

  “Uber Christian?”

  “You know polyamorous, sexual revolution, YOLO and do what’s in your heart. You don’t go for all that, do you?”

  “I do actually do what’s in my heart. And guess what? You’re not in there, not even near my liver or the kidneys. Nowhere in the body.”

  “I’d like to be in your body.”

  “I know. But here we are. I’m shopping and you’re making a fool out of yourself.”

  “If you’re so sure that we’re not right for each other, kiss me right now. Then we’ll know for sure.”

  I laugh and shake my head.

  “And I’ll be the first to admit if there’s no sexual tension. I will.”

  “I am not kissing you! A kiss is a reward a woman gives a man for feeling sexual attraction and the PURPOSE of a kiss. It’s not just something you get because you think every hot girl owes you one.”

  “Well-”

  “And yes, I am hot. I know I’m hot. Thanks for confirming that.”

  “Yeah, you are. And boy did that speech seem rehearsed. I mean, do you write this stuff in your spare time or do you just constantly get hit on all the time?”

  “I don’t get hit on all the time. So, I guess, you do get credit for being so outspoken about your one-night stand wish. Flattered, but no thank you.”

  “Oh my God. You just keep arguing with me and I just keep fantasizing about you more!”

  I laugh again but suddenly realize he just keeps coming at me and has no concept of rejection or embarrassment. It’s time to push him away a bit…

  “You know,” he interrupts, “if you had just been a nice lady when we met and didn’t insist on arguing with me at every turn, I wouldn’t even be crushing on you. I wouldn’t even be thinking about you. It’s like I thrive on conflict or something.”

  I sigh and stare at him in disbelief. A look he probably interprets as sexual but is actually quite the opposite. I feel pity.

  “First of all, I don’t meet random guys to have sex with, Byron,” I reply. “I don’t go looking for friends with benefits. I just like friendly people. Friends are important people in my life. So, you could say I believe in ‘destiny’ that way. Attraction is meaningless, relationships are what matter.”

  “Hmm,” he says. “I’ve never thought about that before.”

  “Uh huh. Sure.”

  “What do you do for a living? See, I’m taking an interest in you, as a friend.”

  I laugh scornfully again. “I’m a therapist.”

  “I knew it! I knew you were messing with my head.”

  “NO, I am not messing with your head. But if you mean, do I call you out on your rude and womanizing behavior? Absolutely.”

  “I want to do to you, what you’re doing to that avocado.”

  “I s-!”
/>
  “Okay, hint taken! I’m leaving now,” he says, interrupting. “I was rejected, and it hurts. But I’ll tell you, I regret nothing. You are the hottest woman I’ve ever met in a long time, and I had to take a chance. And frankly, I’m relieved. Because I don’t think I could even handle you in bed. I know. Believe me, I know.”

  I laugh again, against my will. What a silly ass! But at least he’s finally taking the hint and leaving me alone. Good, any more boyish antics and I would have reached for the mace. He’s always walking that line between acceptable and invasive. He’s a fascinating study for therapy, but for a relationship, not so much.

  Some guys are just aren’t worth the annoyance!

  Chapter 3

  Byron

  I’ll have to admit that I am slightly obsessing over Laura Katt. While I really do think her argumentative nature is part of the attraction, there’s also something else there that I can’t explain.

  I do want her. I crave her. She’s all I think about. And of course, I know that it’s not love, it might not even be lust.

  After all, I’ve had younger and sluttier girls than Laura before. That’s lust. Seeing a woman you barely know at a bar and then fucking her brains out because you both feel this strange energy, that’s lust. Having a threesome in Barcelona because you have mad cash and girls there just LOVE Americans, that’s lust. Having sex with my best friend’s ex-girlfriend, well that’s one-part lust-one-part bro-fuckery, I guess.

  But this thing with Laura, I’m not sure where it’s coming from. I feel some need there, some desire for her attention. But I can’t fathom what drives it? Is it just me being a dick again and wanting to fuck a girl madly, just so I can form an opinion about her?

  I don’t know what it is but all I can really do about it now, especially since she rejected my proposal for friends with benefits, is keep piquing her mind. Maybe she’ll help me realize why I crush so heavily sometimes.

  I check my account. New message from Laura. Awesome, got to read it twice!

  * * *

  Byron, the reason you’re OCDing about me is because of something you feel about yourself. It’s entirely you and you’re projecting onto me whatever it is you feel. I have already told you I don’t want meaningless sex with you or anyone. So why are YOU so provoked about this?

  * * *

  Almost unconsciously I write a sarcastic, insulting response, and then another comment about how I want to slide her panties off with my teeth.

  But then I stop. As I delete the comment, I wonder what’s come over me. Deep down, I know that whatever this is, will pass. But it’s all I can think about right now.

  As I stroke myself thinking about her tight mommy-jeans and what I could do to her if she just lets me, even for a second-

  I suddenly realize what the issue is. She’s a therapist, and I’m one fucked up human being. Maybe what I felt all along is the need to talk to someone, share my problems and my rambling thoughts. Maybe that’s why she’s so damn good at what she does because she’s an expert at reading men, figuring out their stupidity, and then making them cry for their mommies.

  Maybe I need her for a different reason than just another rough fuckathon. Maybe it’s time, to be honest with myself.

  * * *

  NO. I will not take you as a patient, Byron.

  * * *

  I react in surprise at her instant message, not sure why I was rejected for THAT, a legitimate inquiry into what she does for a living.

  “Why? Isn’t that what you do? You even say on your website that you talk to couples, or men and women individually. I’m an individual. So why not?”

  * * *

  Yes, but it’s strictly unethical to combine a person’s business life with their personal life.

  * * *

  “Umm, correct me if I’m wrong, Laura, but I don’t think we HAVE a personal life. We’re not dating or shagging. So, unless you plan on pounding some stress out of me later tonight, wearing some sexy lingerie, I think my interest in you is purely professional at this point.”

  * * *

  No, it’s not professional, because you’ve already confessed your attraction to me. You wouldn’t take any advice I give you seriously because you insist on turning everything into a sexual context. I didn’t go to school for five years to just sit and listen to a man talk about my body while I give him sincere life advice. I could have been a whore if I wanted that kind of life.

  “Call me, please. Nothing sexual, I promise.”

  * * *

  I’ve been waiting for about ten minutes and finally, she gives me a call. I don’t know if she’s calling me as a therapist, or as a woman who’s just sick of my bullshit, or just maybe a woman who is kind of interested in me. But whatever pity this is, I will take it!

  “Thank you,” I say. “Seriously no more come-ons. I really just want to talk about stuff.”

  “Then go find a qualified therapist, Byron,” she says.

  I ignore the constant sexual thoughts going through my head. I promised her not to make things sexual, and I have to mean it this time.

  “I want you AS my therapist,” I say. “I like you. You bring something out in me. I honestly don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing, but I feel the desire to talk to you.”

  “That’s good but I am not qualified to give you professional advice.”

  “Then DON’T,” I say firmly. “Not as a therapist. Talk to me just as a normal human being who cares about my life.”

  She sighs again. “We don’t even know each other! You’ve already confessed the sole reason you’re interested in talking to me.”

  “So what? Big deal. Every guy secretly wants to bang the girl he’s talking to. It doesn’t mean friendships can’t develop from that, you know.”

  “Oh really? You want to be my friend now?” she says, laughing toward the end.

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Why do you seem to want sex from women that you have no connection with, no involvement in their life, and no apparent chemistry? Speaking of you, since you are your favorite subject.”

  “Well, damn! That’s a deep question.”

  “Why do you deflect when I ask tough questions? Why are you thinking dirty right now, instead of being honest with yourself?”

  “Wow…you are really good at your job,” I laugh.

  “I am really good at my job,” she says.

  “Are you really good at other things?”

  “None of your business. So, answer my question.”

  “Part of it is probably the whole, rich-young guy gets laid by easy girls, makes a lifestyle out of it. So when I meet a girl, yeah, I guess subconsciously I’m thinking, ‘Let’s find her secret combination for sex.’ It’s like a video game or a quest or some Tolkien shit, you know? I must go on this journey, I must win. My dick and my brain are hardwired to joust. All my mental faculties just want to love and please women.”

  “Right. You’re not special, most men feel the same way. Go on.”

  “When it comes to you, I don’t know. You just seem to see through a guy’s bullshit. And that’s interesting to me.”

  “It’s not, actually. But it says a lot about you. Do you push people away? Especially women, especially after sex. Do you lose all interest in them after you get what you want?”

  “No. Well, I don’t know honestly. You blow a lot of money, you drink. You feed a girl bullshit lines because she WANTS to hear them. She wants sex and is too shy to admit what she wants it. I mean, I give her what she wants and then she leaves. Sometimes I leave first. Do I feel bad about it? No. Because NO WOMAN has ever called me in tears or professed love for me or anything like that. It’s just doing it, you know, it’s not love. They go their separate way, I go my way. What’s with this weird, socially constructed need to feel guilty about casual sex?”

  “So, you feel that sex is only pleasurable when there’s no emotional connection?”

  “I don’t know. I guess there were a few times when I fe
lt something, but it wasn’t a real connection. Or else one of us would have said, ‘Hey, I kind of like this. Want to get married’? But then it’s like dad says, ‘Better sign that prenup, boy.’ I know dad, Jesus.”

  She laughs. “Do you have any friends, Byron? Not people you party with or pay off. Just friends?”

  “Tricky question. Because I have what I consider a lot of good friends, you know, guys I grew up with and all. But lately, they haven’t been very interested in my life. It’s like none of them give a rat’s ass what happens to me.”

  “Do you have any idea why that is?”

  “I don’t know. I think they’re too competitive. It’s like this weird thing about, I don’t know, they’re very possessive of their girlfriends and wives. And like. they get the feeling I’m a player or something.”

  “Have you ever had sex with your friend’s girlfriend? Or wife?”

  “Well…” I hesitate and chortle. “Umm…tricky question.”

  She snorts at my logic. “No, it’s not that tricky, Byron. If you’re scoring with your best friend’s girlfriend, or wife, or whatever, you’re breaking the bond of friendship. You’re destroying the trust you had with that friend. All over a girl?”

  “Well…see it’s complicated…”

  “It’s not complicated! It’s just something you don’t do to a friend. If you feel no sense of loyalty to your friend, and would rather score with your best bud’s girlfriend, then you’ve shown them great disrespect. Do you see that?”

  “I guess so. I mean, I could argue that but…”

  “No, you couldn’t. Don’t argue. Just admit it.”

  “Admit what? I get horny.”

  “No, Byron. Admit you’re a narcissistic asshole. You drive your friends away with this behavior. You piss off women you meet, yours truly included, then you hit on us afterward. Sometimes you score and the ones you score with, you probably discard the next morning because you have no idea how to have a serious, adult relationship. Now, ordinarily I would tell you our session is over, but this is just a trial run for a therapy session. You know the problem. How much money do you want to spend to keep learning this lesson over and over again?”