Billionaire Unattainable

by J. S. Scott

  “And you found a way to get out. Not that I agree with you starving yourself to become a model, but it’s pretty admirable that you made some kind of plan for your future.”

  I smiled at him because he sounded so disapproving about me not eating. “I was pretty desperate just to be somebody. To prove that I could be. Back then, I didn’t give a damn what I had to do to get there. By the time Brynn came into the industry, I had already been a starving model for years, and seeing her go through the same thing that I had was kind of like a wake-up call for me.”

  “How so?”

  I thought for a moment before I spoke. “She was younger. Healthier. It was like watching my own health decline all over again. I didn’t want to see her keep doing the same thing over a long period of time. Starvation plays hell with a body, and it has long-lasting effects that can never be healed. Brynn was like the sister I had never had. I cared about her. I knew we both needed to stop, even though we were both really successful at that time. I hit a wall, and I knew I either had to stop starving or I was going to die. Brynn and I made a deal with each other to try to make an impact on the industry, or get out. She outgrew the clothes when she started to eat like a healthy person should. But it was a victory when they accommodated her. My healthier weight put me into modeling plus sizes, and there was starting to be a good job market for bigger models. So I was able to transition.”

  He scowled. “You don’t look like a plus size to me.”

  He sounded so indignant that I laughed. “In the modeling world, if you’re a size twelve, you’re plus size. I’m a sixteen now, so I’m well into the plus size category for modeling, even if the clothing industry doesn’t quite see that as a plus.”

  “You’re beautiful. You have the face of an angel. It doesn’t matter what size you wear,” Mason rumbled.

  I snorted. “Tell that to all of the people who fat-shame me on social media. I’ve learned to let it roll off my back because I preach being healthy and beautiful at any size, and I truly believe what I teach. But I have plenty of critics who don’t want to see me do lingerie or swimsuit modeling.”

  “Fuck them. I want to see it,” Mason grumbled.

  He sounded so genuinely in favor of looking over my half-naked shoots that I had to bite back a smile.

  “I did a swimsuit gig awhile ago. And I have a shoot in a few weeks to model lingerie for a longtime plus size clothing client. I try not to let the social media bullies get to me very much. I think it’s too important for women to see a realistic model in the clothing they may want to purchase.”

  “I saw the swimsuit shoot,” he confessed as he dropped his fork onto his empty plate.

  “You did?” I asked, surprised. “How?”

  “I looked for it. What red-blooded male wouldn’t want to see you half naked?”

  The photos were out there on the internet, still…

  “I took a lot of flak for that,” I informed him honestly. “My critics weren’t happy. It wasn’t a gig that a plus size model wouldn’t usually do.”

  “Fuck your critics,” he said gruffly. “You were sexy as hell. Most guys would be lying if they said it didn’t get their dick hard.”

  I laughed, but Mason wasn’t smiling. “I think you’re the only man thinking about that. Mason, I’m a plus size model.”

  “You were stunning in a swimsuit, Laura.”

  I was stunned, and I started to blush. “I’m thick.”

  “Then I guess thick women get my dick hard,” he scoffed. “You look pretty damn hot to me. ”

  There was something about the sincerity in his tone that made me want to cry.

  On the surface, maybe I did appear to have my shit together, but underneath, there was still a woman who just wanted to be accepted the way that I was. I wanted a man to look at me and not want to change my appearance. At all.

  The fact that Mason seemed to look at me and saw nothing except perfection was so damn foreign to me.

  After years of fighting modeling agencies and designers about getting real with sizes, and going through multiple boyfriends who did nothing but critique my body, it was amazingly seductive to have a man just look at me and like what he saw.

  Honestly, I wasn’t quite sure how to handle a guy like Mason. Maybe I wasn’t completely comfortable with his perception because I wasn’t used to it, but it was pretty damn enticing.

  Especially his comment about me getting his dick hard.

  Obviously, I wasn’t a virgin. But sex had never been completely comfortable for me because I’d never felt sexy. Maybe because the guys I’d been with in the past had never looked at me with the same lust that Mason did. I’d always known that my boyfriends would have preferred me to be smaller, more like a regular model.

  Whereas Mason looked at me as though he’d like to devour every damn inch of me.

  How could that not make me want to climb his enormous body like he was an oak tree and beg him to fuck me?

  “I’m insecure sometimes,” I confessed. “Most of the time, I can hide it. I really believe in what I blog about. I believe people come in all shapes and sizes, and every one of them is beautiful. I believe that the modeling world is unrealistic. A size fourteen has been the most common size for a female in the United States for years, but now some studies are saying a size sixteen is the most common average. But sometimes, I’m still that girl who starved herself to fit into a world where being super thin is everything. I still compare myself to other regular models.”

  “Don’t,” Mason said insistently. “You don’t need to be them. Just be you.”

  He sounded grumpy that I’d try to be anything else but myself. “I am me. Most of the time, anyway,” I told him.

  “You don’t seem to have any problem giving your honest opinions on your blog.”

  I shot him a surprised look. “You actually read our blog? It’s mostly about fashion.”

  “Not your blog with Brynn. Although I look at that one to keep up on anything I need to know to help with Perfect Harmony. I follow your personal blog. I read every new post. And it isn’t just about fashion. It’s about your perceptions of the world. I like the way you’re brutally honest with yourself and your audience, even if it means saying that you were wrong about something.”

  Okay. I was shocked. Honestly, I did blog about how I felt in my personal blog, and what women are like around the world when I traveled. There was actually very little about fashion in it. Mostly, it was about my personal journey in life. Still… “It’s more of a women’s blog,” I explained.

  I was never less than brutally honest about myself when I wrote a post, but I didn’t realize any guy would give a damn about a female’s emotional journey.

  He shrugged. “I think it’s a good resource for anybody who feels like they don’t completely fit into their world sometimes. I mostly read it so I can learn to understand you.”

  I laughed, but I felt a little uncomfortable that someone like Mason actually cared enough about how I felt to read my blog entries. It was flattering and disconcerting at the same time. “I’m not all that complicated.”

  I wanted to tell him that all I really wanted was to feel secure in a field where I was constantly comparing myself to women who were considered perfect in the modeling world.

  When I modeled, my perceived confidence was like acting. I could put on a smiling, self-assured demeanor, but I couldn’t always internalize it. My blog was like my personal struggle to get to the point where I truly felt self-assured all the time.

  “You’re complicated,” he disagreed. “But wouldn’t you rather be complicated and contemplative instead of just being so shallow that you never think you need to keep growing?”

  I tilted my head as I studied the earnest expression on his face. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it that way.”

  “Think about it,” he suggested as he stood up. “I guess I’d better get you home.”

  I got up and started to collect the food and plates. “Mason?”
I remembered one of the things I’d meant to ask him. Something I’d read in his personal documents before I’d decided to put everything away and not look at his stuff anymore.

  “Yeah?” he answered as he followed me into the kitchen with the rest of the stuff from the coffee table.

  “You’re a workaholic. I think everybody knows that.” I hesitated.

  What if I was wrong?

  What if I was totally off base with my conclusions?

  Before I could think about it, I just asked, “Are you trying to prove something?”

  “I like to work,” he muttered as he put food in the fridge. “And what would I have to prove?”

  “You asked me to review your stuff, and I did. Some of it. I probably shouldn’t have even looked at it since I’d already decided to foster or adopt. But I…”

  “You what?” Mason asked, turning to look at me after he put his load of stuff in the fridge.

  “I saw your adoption certificate in the packet, Mason,” I said, every word coming out in a rush because I was afraid that I could be wrong. “Do you work as hard as you do because you’re not your father’s natural son?”

  Laura

  “Okay, I managed to screw up something that I was completely enjoying. A lot,” I muttered to myself as I tossed my purse onto the desk in my home office.

  I’d just had to open my big mouth about the fact that Mason had a different natural father than the rest of his siblings.

  Way to shut down all communication, Laura.

  I sighed as I walked to the bedroom to put on my pajamas.

  Mason’s resounding “No!” in answer to my query about being more driven because he wasn’t his dad’s natural child was the only reply he’d given to my stupid question.

  There had been almost zero conversation between us after that.

  He’d taken me back to the parking lot of Lawson Technologies, and waited for me to get into my car and exit the parking lot, presumably to make sure I was safe. After that, I’d seen him pull out behind me. He hadn’t turned off until he had to head in another direction to get to his house.

  We’d gone the whole damn night in friendly conversation, getting to know each other, learning to trust each other, at least a little.

  I’d told him things that I probably wouldn’t have admitted to anyone except Brynn.

  And then, I’d screwed the whole thing up by getting way too personal.

  “I let myself get too comfortable with him,” I muttered irritably as I finished changing and tossed my dirty clothes in the hamper in the master bathroom.

  Not that there wasn’t a whole lot of sexual tension between the two of us. Hell, that had been there before tonight. But over the course of the evening, something had changed. At least it had for me.

  Since Mason never judged me, and even encouraged me in almost anything I wanted to talk about, I guess I’d let myself believe that I was okay to turn the conversation toward him.

  Apparently…not.

  I mean, I got it. Kind of. He obviously wasn’t ready to bare his soul about something that personal.

  Honestly, until I’d seen his adoption certificate, I’d never heard a word about him having a different father.

  Even Brynn had never mentioned it.

  Maybe because he’d been little more than a baby when his father had adopted him.

  I went to my office and opened my laptop. Since I’d missed working most of the day and evening, I had some things I still needed to accomplish before I went to bed.

  Forget Mason.

  It’s not like we were really…anything to each other. Not even friends.

  Maybe we were attracted to each other, but that was just chemistry.

  “Then why do I feel like crying?” I asked myself aloud, feeling frustrated.

  A rivulet of moisture fell to my cheek, and I brushed it away, mad at myself because I was making such a big deal over watching Mason emotionally shut down right in front of my eyes in his kitchen.

  The light in his gaze had eclipsed.

  His face had become guarded.

  It was like the door to our new, budding relationship had just…slammed shut.

  And dammit, it hurt.

  Even though it probably shouldn’t.

  Problem was, I’d started to really like Mason tonight. The real Mason. JusI thought I was starting to understand him. And then? BOOM! The guy who had been supportive of me, and challenged me to look at myself differently, had completely disappeared.

  Mason Lawson, billionaire and cold-blooded businessman, had returned with a vengeance.

  Honestly, I had no idea what had motivated that shutdown. Did it matter all that much to him that he didn’t share DNA with the father he’d loved his entire life? Was it really all that big of a deal?

  As a former child in the foster care system, I knew that sharing blood didn’t really mean all that much. When my parents had died, not a single one of my blood relatives had wanted to take me on as theirs to raise.

  Later, I’d found Brynn, and she was the sister I’d never had, even though we didn’t share even a drop of similar DNA.

  Sharing blood didn’t necessarily guarantee love and emotional support from family members. I knew for a fact that it didn’t, which was one of the reasons why, when I’d gotten my head together, that I’d decided that fostering and adoption was the right way to go for me. If I could just help one foster child realize that they’re lovable, even though they didn’t have their biological parents anymore, it would mean everything to me. I knew it would probably be much more fulfilling for me than using a sperm donor to have a child of my own, and an unknown father.

  I sighed as I tried to focus on my emails. Most of them were business, so I didn’t have to think much about my responses as I answered. They were pretty much routine stuff.

  Until I got to an email that made me pause.

  It was from Hudson Montgomery.

  The Hudson Montgomery, billionaire and head of Montgomery Mining.

  I wasn’t exactly a watcher of the most eligible billionaires in the world, but I’d have to be living under a rock not to know who Hudson, Jax, and Cooper Montgomery were. They were in every women’s magazine as the men to catch because they were rich, young, and incredibly attractive.

  “What in the hell does he want with me?” I whispered aloud.

  I scanned the brief missive curiously. It seemed that Hudson, the oldest Montgomery brother, wanted a business meeting to discuss Perfect Harmony.

  I didn’t need another investor, and I had no idea how somebody like him had even heard of my company.

  I shrugged. It wouldn’t hurt to meet with him because he had a lot of connections.

  I sent him a list of my available times for a business lunch as he’d requested. The last thing I wanted was to rebuff anybody interested in my business, and Hudson Montgomery was way too influential to blow off.

  I was wrapping up my correspondence when I heard my phone blasting Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off,” my current ringtone.

  After struggling to get my phone out of my purse, my heart missed a beat when I looked at my caller ID.

  Mason.

  “Hello,” I answered cautiously.

  “I’m a little late today,” he said huskily. “I got distracted by a beautiful blonde and missed my regular calling time.”

  My heart was pounding so hard I could feel every beat. “Why are you calling now? I think you already made it perfectly clear that you weren’t willing to share much information about yourself with me.”

  “I fucked up,” he answered. “I shouldn’t have shut you down like that. You caught me off guard.”

  “You didn’t mean to put that info in the packet?” I guessed.

  “No. I did. If you were going to consider me as your sperm donor, you deserved to know I’m not fully a Lawson.”

  He was fully Lawson, but obviously Mason didn’t see that.

  “I didn’t read much of your personal stuff,” I explained. �
��I felt bad about even breaking the seal and looking at anything since I was no longer in the market for a sperm donor. But the document was on the top with your birth certificate.”

  “My father adopted me when I was eight months old,” he said in a raspy voice that made it evident the subject still wasn’t easy for him to talk about. “But my parents didn’t tell me the truth until I was almost finished with college. They told me that they never wanted me to feel like I wasn’t one of their children. They didn’t want me to feel…different. Although I understood their logic, I wish I had known earlier than that.”

  I ached with the pain he must have gone through once he’d found out. He had already grown up believing he was his father’s natural son. I found it hard to believe that he hadn’t felt a little bit…betrayed. “Did you feel different once you found out?”

  He was silent for a moment before he answered. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I also discovered that my biological father was an asshole. I was the result of a sexual assault that was never reported. My mom was really young. Barely eighteen. She and my bio father met by chance at some party when she was living in San Diego. Mom was drugged and assaulted by him at that party. When she ended up pregnant, not a single one of her relatives or friends believed that she had been assaulted. My bio father’s family was too rich and powerful to take on, so she had no support. Luckily, she got offered a decent job in Colorado, so she moved to get a fresh start. That’s where she met my father. My dad was quite a bit older than she was, but they fell in love anyway. The rest is history. My father started the paperwork to adopt me soon after I was born. The two of them were already married by then.”

  I let out a shaky breath. “I’m sure your father loved you, Mason. Just as much as if you were his natural son. And I doubt it changed your relationship with your brothers and sisters, either, right?”

  There was a long pause before he said, “They don’t know the truth. You’re the only one who knows. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share it.”

  Oh, dear God. “You never told your siblings?”

  “My parents and I planned to do it together over the holidays the year they died. They never made it to Christmas. They were killed in an auto accident right at the holidays. There was no way I was going to dump more on any of my siblings after our parents were killed.”