The Billionaire Brute

by Hart, Romi

  “Oh, so you do dig younger hot bods!”

  “Ahem!” I say with a disapproving glance.

  “So, what is it then?”

  “Honestly? And it’s not what you think.”

  “Not what I think? So it’s not my smugness or arrogance or stubborn devotion to girls who dislike me?”

  “No. It’s…that I don’t think we have anything in common.”

  “We have a good conversation.”

  “But we always talk about you.”

  “Fine, tell me about yourself.”

  “It’s none of your business!”

  “It’s none of your business!” He mocks me by repeating my exact sentence.

  “Okay, Byron. You got me there.”

  “So, you’ve disqualified me instantly, without any sort of thought. I kind of want to know why. I deserve to know why.”

  “I like…sweet guys.”

  “What?”

  “Like, sweet. Nice…not just nice, but you know, sentimental.”

  “For real?” he says, raising his brow.

  “Yes. I admire men who are open with their emotions.”

  “I’m open.”

  “Their positive emotions. Not the negativity.”

  “Well, maybe I do share too much.”

  “You like to be the center of attention, Byron. And I understand that. It’s the way you were raised and your lifestyle, if you’re as rich as you claim to be.”

  He laughs. “But see that’s the thing. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a chance to be sweet, you know. To be a normal guy pursuing a girl. It’s all been so crazy. Maybe I like you because you’re real. Not a play or a party girl.”

  “Well, all I can offer you is friendship. No friends with benefits, nothing like that.”

  “Then I accept it,” he says sincerely. “I’d like to be your friend.”

  “Fine,” I say nodding. “IF and only if, you stop pulling stunts like this. No more sneaking into my office or following me around town.”

  “Agreed. That’s not what friends do. We’re best friends forever now, and I respect you.”

  I laugh. “We’re not BEST friends, but friends yeah. I can manage that.”

  “So, can I ask you something as a friend?”

  I shake my head.

  “Not sexual, promise.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “I want you to come with me to a Christmas party.”

  “A Christmas party?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What? Some stripper thing…?”

  “No,” he laughs. “Nothing weird or perverted. Just a Christmas party. It’s the season soon, you know.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why? Just as friends, remember? I like hanging out with you. I am OK with you friend-zoning me and I just want someone to come with me, someone nice.”

  I giggle at the thought. “I’m not nice though. I’ve actually been quite difficult with you.”

  “Nah, not at all,” he says with a smile. “I just have a habit of pushing things too far, don’t I? I sort of get that.”

  “I just don’t…”

  “Don’t what? You’re afraid I’m going to try something funny? Promise, no funny business. No kissing, grabbing, harassment of any kind. I just want one regular non-date with you. We’re friends.”

  “Hmm…”

  “I’ll behave, promise.”

  “Who’s going to be there?”

  “People I know. Weirdos but they’re my family.”

  “You’re not announcing me as your girlfriend or something?”

  “What did I just say? No funny business. Believe me, you will be shocked at how normal this encounter will be. No awkwardness, no slapping me in the face. Promise.”

  I exhale, this time in a softer pace. I don’t hate the idea. In fact, when he’s promising to be good, he’s not actually that annoying or invasive.

  “Come on. Won’t you be my neighbor?” he asks me with a Mister Rogers imitation.

  I laugh hard and finally nod my head. “All right, one chance. Any more funny business and…”

  “None. I assure you. I’ll pick you up. This Friday around seven, deal?”

  I smile at him, with a slight sarcastic grin. I can’t help but feel a little suspicious, even though I admire his efforts. “I won’t be wearing anything sexy. In fact, I’m coming in my work clothes.”

  “You can wear whatever you want as long as you come.”

  I raise my eyebrow.

  “Sorry, I made that sound sexual. Honest mistake, friend to friend.”

  “All right. Let’s try it for the sake of the human experiment. If anything, just to prove to you that we’re not really compatible, you know, as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “Why, that’s the nicest thing a woman has ever said to me.”

  Byron picked me up in a Ferrari. Yes, the same car he crashed my Honda with, not too long ago. It was a bit nostalgic, aside from a snarky. “Nice car, except for the fender…” comment, I didn’t harass him too much. I was trying to be nice, just like he was, even though I stayed true to my word and didn’t dress sexy or formal. I wore the same clothes I wore from work, which were classy enough but not sending any mixed messages.

  I’ve always believed in being straightforward and not being a tease, especially with a guy who so obviously wears his heart on his sleeve, like Byron.

  I have to admit, I was halfway expecting this whole thing to be a put-on or a gag. But to my surprise, he was completely honest about what this was and where we were going.

  He neglected to mention one detail though and I realized it as we drove up to his parents’ mansion, which looked more like a European castle, he was not actually “rich”. Not rich like a scholarship preppie boy. No.

  His family was obscenely wealthy, like the top tier of the world! I was at a loss of words when he began describing the luxury of what we were seeing.

  Once we entered the premises, greeted by a full staff of butlers and maids, I was amazed at what I saw. Huge rooms and church-like ceilings. Exotic paintings on the wall, collector’s art and sculptures, carpets from all over the world, and dozens of “rich men” running around trying to look important for THIS FAMILY.

  I flinched at the idea that I was literally visiting royalty. The Gallows family was filthy rich, like Downton Abby. The house itself must have been worth hundreds of millions. Not that I would ever claim to appraise such a ridiculously huge property.

  I became nervous when I overheard the names of some of these elite members of society. Politicians, movie stars, philanthropists and celebrities that actually earned their status, and no B-listers anywhere in sight.

  Not a surprise, the likes of Paris Hilton or even the Kardashians might feel out of place here. There was a very formal, dare I say, almost a humorless vibe. It seemed just the opposite of Byron’s playful attitude and youthful exuberance. These were people who earned a fortune and who…well, weren’t exactly inclined to share their wealth with anyone else.

  Out of place?! I almost hid my face in embarrassment! I clammed up as soon as Byron began introducing me to some of his acquaintances. Who was I? I wasn’t even his official date!

  And now, here I am sitting in the library, waiting for my friend and non-date to rescue me from this luxurious vision of Hell.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, coming back after a good ten-minute absence.

  “Jesus, I was dying in here! I was almost afraid someone was going to call the cops on me, thinking I was trespassing.”

  He laughs. “Nah, believe me, it’s impossible to sneak in here with all the security outside. You were with me, that’s how you got in.”

  “Byron, who are these people?”

  “Honestly? A bunch of rich assholes,” he laughs.

  “Seriously.”

  “Politicians, investors, a few movie stars, CEOs, mysterious men with shady connections. Each one creepier than the last, right?”

  “Yo
u’re so…lackadaisical about it, aren’t you? Part of me thinks that none of this house seems like you at all.”

  “It’s my family’s house. So technically I’m still listed as living here. But I rarely ever come here on account of, well, the weirdness of these people. I usually just live in my vacation homes most days of the year, and of course, really expensive hotels in Europe.”

  “What do you do for work?”

  “Ah, the billion-dollar question. I believe the official title is hedge fund investor.”

  “Did you say billions? I mean, how much is your family worth?”

  “Let’s just say, if my family heard you ask me that, they would escort you out!”

  “You’re not kidding. Wow. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m not one of those girls impressed by money.”

  “Hmm…” he says giving me a smirk.

  “I’m not. I just had no idea you were like Catholic Church level rich.”

  He laughs hard. “Well, believe me, I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I was born into this life. I’ll be damned if I know what to do with my inheritance. I usually just nod when my father speaks, pretending like I know what I’m talking about.”

  “So, all you do is investments?”

  “Yeah, I mean I play the stock market. I invest in companies-”

  “But let me guess. You mostly cruise around looking for girls and partying the night away?”

  “What can I say?” he winks. “I swear, I’ll start taking things seriously when I hit thirty. Just let me ruin my body with alcohol and drugs, so I can say that I’ve lived a little before I settled.”

  I laugh and smile, but it’s actually a defense at this point. I’m actually scared to death that he has the power over my life and death. Who am I kidding? When people this rich want something, who in their right mind says no? I almost feel in debt to Byron for keeping me safe from these tycoons and sharks.

  “I know it feels weird. Believe me, it feels weird to me too,” he says. “That’s why I wanted you to come with me. You’re the only adult I know.” He laughs heartily. “Well, the only person I’ve spoken to in the last two weeks who didn’t want something from me. I figured maybe your awesome therapist-self would know how to work with some of these people.”

  “I’m a therapist!” I laugh, “not a billionaire duchess.”

  Who is this guy? I stare at Byron, not having the slightest clue of who he is or what I’m doing here in this strange world. I look at his face. Distracted. Uncomfortable. Charming and boyish in some way. Handsome, but I force myself not to think anything sexual or romantic. I’ve already decided this relationship is non-existent. I want to be his friend or maybe I don’t. Not if friendship with him means going to strange places like this.

  Still, I find this softer side of Byron fascinating as a therapist. He’s not really reveling in fame or wealth. He’s detached from everything his family has and is. In fact, the only connection he seems to have with is…

  “Ah, there you are,” he said, waving over an older man who I assume is the butler or something.

  “Hello Byron,” the old man says, grinning wide.

  “Hey dad, this is Laura. Laura Katt.”

  My eyes shoot open and my mouth drops. I am shocked and terrified to be standing in front of the patriarch of the Gallows family. What a fast and intimate introduction! I didn’t even know who the man was!

  I smile and grab my cheek, nodding a bit too nervously. “HEY!” I smile wide and feel my heart pounding. This man, he’s probably one of the planet’s most well-connected men. Someone I never even thought I would ever meet.

  “Hi! Sorry, I didn’t realize uh…I’m Laura Katt.”

  “I know,” he says with a droll smile. “My son just told me. I’m Alfred Gallows.”

  “Yes! Uhhh, hey there! This is a fascinating party. I mean, gathering. Event”

  Alfred laughs super softly, a bit of a rich man’s reaction. I’m definitely making a fool of myself.

  “Is Laura a friend of yours?” Alfred says.

  “She’s actually my…” he flinches, watching me. “Therapist.” He smiles.

  “Ah, good to know. I always told him he needed a therapist!” Alfred smiles at me.

  We all crack up, me obviously laughing nervously.

  “Yeah, I figured I’d go classy this time. No flings or chicks from a bar. An actual person from my life who matters.” He nods, looking past me, and instead right into his father’s face. For once he’s not trying to impress me, but his dad.

  “I’m happy to meet you,” Alfred says warmly. “Do please wait for my wife. I think she would be most intrigued to meet you as well.”

  “Of course, sure.”

  I watch Alfred in silent respect. He’s in his fifties with white hair but a strong frame. He certainly has Byron’s charisma when he talks, but of course without all the silly boyish-charms. And maybe that’s what makes Byron so unique among his peers.

  “Hello!” an older woman says, coming right up to me and giving me a half-hug tap. She’s dressed extravagantly, graying brown hair and all made up like she’s ready to be on television.

  “Oh hey!”

  “This is my mother, Caitlynn,” Byron says. “Mom. This is Laura Katt, my therapist.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says sincerely, looking into my eyes and smiling. “I have a therapist too. You people do good work.”

  “Thanks. So do you!” I say, a bit daftly.

  “How long have you and Byron been uh…doing the therapist thing?” she flinches.

  Alfred raises his brow. I look around at everyone frantically. Oh god! Do they think we’re having sex? That would be the most unprofessional thing if we were actually in therapy. Who knows what these people think of me!

  “Just recently,” I say, trying my very best to NOT gaze into Byron’s eyes and make them think I’m his secret girlfriend. I’m not even his therapist. God, what am I doing here?!

  I smile at Byron, wanting to strangle him. And…

  Dammit! Actually, feeling a small, tiny, pang of attraction to him. Just the idea of being his girl, makes me feel…shy. A feeling that’s almost alien to me.

  “Yeah, uh…I’ve been confiding in her about my social life. About all the mistakes I seem to make in dating.”

  “You’re young,” Alfred says with a nod. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

  “Yeah, that’s what people tell me.”

  “Especially with such a qualified therapist as Laura here,” Caitlynn says with a friendly smile.

  “Uh, thanks! We try.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Alfred says blankly. “I have to go see Bill. There’s been an issue in South Africa. I trust that doesn’t interest you.” He smiles at Byron.

  “No, not at all, Dad,” he replies sarcastically. His parents walk away, and he guides me away back to the library.

  We both chuckle like high school friends. “What was that?”

  “I dunno. That was weird, right?”

  “I mean, so unexpected. What were they thinking of me?”

  “Hey, you did fine,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. Actually, most of my friends just embarrass me in front of my parents. You actually handled yourself really well. Professional. A little nervous, but I think they actually believed you were my therapist.”

  “Well, that’s good! You think they liked me?”

  “Oh yeah. To be completely honest, I’m pretty sure they think we’re sleeping together.”

  I tilt my head, still smirking.

  “But they DO believe you’re a licensed therapist! If that’s any consolation.”

  “That’s terrible!” I laugh again. “I would never do that.”

  “Yeah well, welcome to the Elite. Where everybody does every terrible thing and gets away with it.”

  He smiles softly but then frowns, looking a bit forlorn.

  “Why the sad face?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

&nb
sp; “No, what?”

  “Hold that thought,” he says finally lighting up again. “It’s dinner time. Or actually, they call it Evening Snack. But it’s going to be better than any dinner you’ve had this year, promise!”

  He chuckles like a teenager, and he’s not too far from being one. The funny thing here is that even I feel young again, being linked with such a superstar, and feeling socially awkward for the first time in years.

  Dinner, or Evening Snack, was fantastic. Seven-course meal and the most exquisite authentic Italian food I’ve ever tasted. I had to grit my teeth to NOT over-praise the food and accidentally reveal how ’lower middle-class’ I really was.

  Byron is driving me home. I look over and smile at him, wondering what he’s thinking.

  He says nothing but keeps his eyes focused on the road. I have to admit, I’m surprised at how well behaved he was tonight. I halfway expected him to grab me for a kiss or make some lewd sexual comments. Just to toy with me, just to feel that power trip. But to my surprise, he was a perfect gentleman. In fact, even now as he drives me home he seems to be grateful, relieved and even a little sentimental over how nice the evening turned out.

  “Thank you,” I say with caution.

  “For what?”

  “For being a good guy, all through the night. Assuming, of course, you don’t do something terrible between now and when I unlock my door.” I laugh.

  “Nah,” he says with a grin. “I’m glad you came with me. I guess I wanted to make it up to you, you know. For all the come-ons, all the antics. Maybe I just wanted to show you I’m not the asshole you think I am.”

  “I don’t think you’re an asshole, Byron.”

  “Really?”

  “I never thought you were an asshole.”

  “Come on.”

  “Okay, when we first met and argued about the car, I might have thought you were pretty close to being an asshole.”

  “There you go!”

  “But honestly? I wouldn’t be talking to you if I didn’t like you. I would just cease all communication if I didn’t like you or felt afraid of you.”

  “Well, that’s good. I like being friends.”