Catching the Billionaire

by Elizabeth Blakely

  “What?” My eyes went wide. “No. He was never anything but a perfect gentleman, and I’m the fool who wanted it to be real.”

  Aunt Karen’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. That’s good.”

  We fell quiet for a moment, the only sound the beeping of the heart monitor. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and I closed my eyes for a minute, trying to process everything.

  “I think I should talk to his manager,” I finally said after sifting through my fragmented thoughts. “I don’t want to ruin his career. I just…” I blew out a breath. “Don’t ever want to see him again.”

  Aunt Karen nodded. “I think that’s very noble of you.”

  She returned a few minutes later with a tall, thin man. “Staci, I’m Brandon’s manager, Scott. It’s so nice to finally meet you, though I wish it were under different circumstances.”

  I nodded, but didn’t trust myself to speak. My thoughts and emotions were too tangled up.

  “Your Aunt tells me you’d like to discuss a plan to handle the media.”

  “Yes,” I finally said. “I know Brandon’s close to finalizing his contract renewal with the Eagles, and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

  A look flashed through his eyes that I couldn’t place. But then I wondered if I’d imagined it.

  “I know he’ll appreciate that,” Scott said. “And I think the best strategy for everyone would be to ignore the rumors about the fake relationship and continue on as you have. At least for another few weeks.”

  I shook my head before pinching the bridge of my nose. “I can’t. I can’t pretend anymore.” I gave him a pointed look.

  Scott tapped his finger to his chin, though he didn’t seem surprised. “In that case, I think we should play up the hero angle. Take a few days off work to recover. Brandon will send you flowers. I’ll make sure he has a speaking engagement or some trip toward the end of the week. And then, once his contract is finalized, we’ll say that you broke up with him. You were tired of all the pressure from the media or something. Would that work?”

  I lifted a shoulder. At this point, I didn’t really care. “Sure.”

  “In the meantime, please don’t engage with the press,” he said.

  “Don’t worry,” I said in a scathing tone. “I don’t intend to have anything to do with Brandon or the press.”

  Though nothing had turned out as I’d hoped or expected, I realized that I should’ve headed the warning implicit in Brandon’s moniker—he really was a heartbreaker.

  Chapter Twenty

  Brandon

  I paced the hospital waiting room, feeling like a caged bear. How had everything gone so wrong so fast? Rumors were swirling about my love life that did not cast me in a positive light. And Arthur had already reached out to Scott with a slew of texts that did not bode well for my contract renewal. Worst of all, Staci refused to talk to me.

  I’d been on the cusp of having everything I wanted, and now… now my life was falling apart. All because someone had recorded a private conversation and then posted it online.

  Should I have said what I did, even knowing it could be overheard? No. But I’d been so distraught about Staci’s accident that I could barely be held responsible for my actions. I remembered everything about it so vividly.

  I took a deep breath trying to calm myself. I should be grateful she was alive. Awake. The doctors said she was lucky to have emerged from the incident with a minor concussion and a few scrapes. But it wasn’t enough—not when I’d almost lost her.

  And now, all I wanted to hold her in my arms and comfort her. I wanted to spend my life with her.

  I sighed. That was the last thing that was going to happen. I’d seen how I’d hurt her. How my words had wounded her.

  How could she not believe me? Believe I was sincere? This was exactly what I’d been afraid of.

  The door to the waiting room opened, and Scott slipped inside. “Okay. Here’s the deal.” He clapped his hands together. “Act like a couple for the next week. Send her flowers, send her the tickets to the concert. Finalize your contract and move on.”

  I frowned, thinking of how upset Staci had been when I tried to apologize. Her cheeks were pink and tearstained, and she looked pained. And it was my fault. I’d humiliated her. I’d hurt her.

  “She agreed to this?” I asked trying not to get my hopes up.

  It wasn’t about my contract or what the world thought. If Staci was giving me a chance, I could use it to convince her my feelings were genuine.

  He nodded. “As long as she doesn’t have to see or talk to you.”

  “What?” I roared. “How on earth are we supposed to be a convincing couple if she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me?”

  This made absolutely no sense. But more than that, it stung. Did she really not want to have anything to do with me?

  He kept speaking, but I felt as if the room were spinning. “She’ll take a few days off from work to recover. You’ll send flowers to her office. By the end of the week, everyone will forget all about this.”

  “I won’t,” I muttered, knowing I would never forget about this or Staci.

  He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I know you won’t. But this is the only way to salvage your reputation. And you’re lucky she agreed.”

  I kicked at one of the legs of the chairs. “I don’t care about my reputation. I don’t care about anything but her. Why can’t she see that?”

  He laughed. “Son, look at it from her point of view. All along, you’ve stuck to the story that this is a fake relationship. And then she sees that video. I think you can understand how she might take it.”

  “Yeah, but…I thought I’d shown her how I felt. I thought I’d made it clear that I loved her.” I thought back on everything I’d done to demonstrate just that.

  “Yes, but she thought it was all part of the act. Did you ever tell her it wasn’t pretend for you?”

  Short of telling her that I loved her, I’d done everything in my power to show her. Well, nothing that she likely believed was genuine. Our entire relationship was a sham. Every look, every touch, every kiss a lie.

  Not every one, a little voice whispered.

  I knew there were many times it felt very real to me. My feelings for Staci were certainly very real. And I had to hope that the same was true for her. I knew her well enough by now to read her expressions. I knew when she was sad or happy, even apprehensive. But did I know if she was in love?

  I groaned. “I told you fake-dating her was a bad idea. Talk about backfiring spectacularly.” I stood, feeling restless. “I need to talk to Staci. No.” I stopped pacing and held up a finger when I was struck with a more powerful idea. “I need to talk to Arthur.”

  “No,” Scott said, his tone firm.

  I swiveled my head to look at him. “No?”

  “First of all, I get the feeling Staci needs some space,” he said. Space was the last word I wanted associated with Staci and me. But he continued talking, “As for Arthur, you’re not talking to him until you’ve cleared your head. I don’t want you to do or say something you might regret. Besides, he’s off visiting the President’s ranch this week.”

  I sighed. I knew he was right when it came to Arthur, but that didn’t make it any easier. I was a man of action.

  “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “What you always do—lose yourself in football. Workout with Tristan and think about what you really want.”

  His plan was sensible, but I was used to getting what I wanted. Unfortunately, money couldn’t solve any of my current problems. It couldn’t heal Staci or make her forgive me. And it couldn’t guarantee my spot with the Eagles. In fact, the only thing my money was good for at the moment was securing me a lift from a helicopter so I could escape the oppressive environment of the hospital.

  Four days later, and I still hadn’t heard from Staci. The only reason I even knew she was alive was because the paparazzi continued to hound her. They’d followed h
er to work and taken pictures of her leaving her aunt’s gated community. She hadn’t posted any new music videos though. And…I was beginning to feel like a stalker.

  “Whoa,” Nash said, eyeing me warily after I’d finished an intense round of ball slams.

  Since the playoffs, Nash had spent more time with Tristan and me. He could still grate on me at times, but I respected him. I liked him.

  “What?” I shrugged, using a towel to wipe my face.

  I guessed maybe I’d been a bit more forceful than I’d realized when I slammed the sixty-pound ball to the ground. The burn in my muscles should’ve been a clue, but it had been a good way to let off steam.

  He shrugged and stepped up to take my place on the padded mat. “You’re really pushing it for the off-season, that’s all.”

  Since it was the off-season, it meant we were on our own for workouts. Most of the team was making the most of the time off, vacationing with their families or training privately or at facilities across the nation. But I’d stayed in Dallas, as I always did. I liked the routine, the consistency of training at the stadium year-round. And I didn’t want to be far from Staci, even if it currently felt like there was an ocean separating us.

  “Can’t have you calling me ‘old man’ any more, now can I?” I teased. I’d now realized that his goading had actually pushed me to be stronger, faster, even if I hadn’t seen it that way initially.

  Nash took his turn, doing the ball slams with as much intensity as I had, even if he grunted the entire time. “There,” he huffed when he finished the set. “Done.”

  “You know,” I said, as we headed for the showers. “You might be a fitting replacement for me when I finally retire at forty.”

  I was joking. I didn’t intend to keep playing for another ten years, much as I loved the game. I didn’t even know if I’d make another year in the NFL.

  Nash screwed up his face. “Isn’t that only a year away?”

  I gave him a playful shove, and Tristan’s laughter echoed off the tile walls of the locker room as he trailed behind us.

  “I’ll be thirty, not forty. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  Retirement had been on my mind a lot lately, but Staci had been on it more. Tristan and Nash talked around me while we showered and dressed, but I was silent. I still had yet to come up with a plan that seemed worthy of her. A way to show her that I loved her. Somehow, I didn’t think retiring alone would do the trick.

  “So what’s up with the intense workouts?” Nash asked when he, Tristan, and I sat down to eat in the team cafeteria. “You and Staci get in a fight or something?”

  “Or something,” I muttered, keeping my attention focused on my plate. Despite the stories about our fake relationship, we were still maintaining the charade that we were in love. That we were happy together.

  “Come on, man,” Nash said. “You know you can trust us not to say—or record—anything.”

  I glared at him, and he gave me a mischievous grin. “Ha-ha. It’s so funny to have your private life invaded.”

  “Man, I wish someone would invade my private life.” He shook his head. “That came out wrong. I wish I were popular enough that people cared about my personal life like they do yours.”

  I shook my head. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  “Does this have something to do with the video?” Tristan asked. “I thought she knew it was all just pretend.”

  “Wait. What?” Nash scrunched up his face. “You’re America’s Heartbreaker. You’re the biggest player in the league.”

  “You’d think so, right?” Tristan asked. “But he’s never actually involved with the women he’s pictured with.”

  “Really?” Nash asked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  I grinned. “Kind of like you’ve fooled me all season with the little rivalry act you had going on.”

  “Touché.” Nash lifted his fork and pointed at me. “So, what was so different about Staci?”

  “Everything,” I said, staring down my protein plate.

  “You love her,” Tristan said. It wasn’t a question.

  I nodded. “I do.” I hung my head. “But she doesn’t have a clue.”

  “So tell her!” Nash said.

  I hung my head, unable to forget the look in her eyes that day in the hospital. “I tried.”

  “Obviously not hard enough,” Nash said with the sort of attitude I’d come to expect from him.

  “Besides, she doesn’t want me. She wants someone else. Since the night we met, that’s been her goal—date Will.”

  “But is it still her goal?” Tristan asked. “Because that’s what really matters.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I don’t know. I mean, you should see the way she talks about him. And when I tried to tell her how I felt—”

  “Tell us about that.” Nash said, leaning his forearms on the table.

  I rolled my eyes. “Who are you—Dr. Phil?”

  He chuckled. “No, but I have more relationship experience than the two of you combined.”

  He had a point, even if he was currently single. I could certainly use some good advice, and Nash genuinely seemed to want to help. And boy, did I need the help. I was miserable without Staci. She’d gotten so under my skin, it was like she was tattooed on my heart. She was my everything and nothing mattered without her.

  “Fine,” I huffed.

  “When did you try to tell her? How did she react?” Nash asked.

  “I…” I was ashamed to admit this. “I tried to tell her at the hospital.”

  “Before or after she saw the ‘I can’t pretend anymore’ video?”

  “After.”

  “Dude,” Nash said, dragging out the word. “That’s—” He covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. “So wrong.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t really think it through; I panicked.”

  Tristan arched an eyebrow. “Because of the potential impact to your reputation or because of her.”

  I glowered at him. “Because of her, of course. I watched her get struck by a biker. I thought she was dead. I just wanted to tell her that I loved her. I just wanted to hold her.”

  “Though your intentions were good,” Nash said. “You screwed up big time.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I ground out.

  “But the good news is—I don’t think she wouldn’t have been so upset if she didn’t care about you.”

  I glanced to Tristan for confirmation. “I think he’s right.”

  Nash crossed his arms over his chest, a smug grin on his face. “Which is why you should go after her, man. Win back the girl.”

  I felt a surge of excitement followed by crippling fear. Was Nash right? Was there hope for Staci and me yet? I wanted to think so, but…well, I was a fool in love. What if I was simply believing what I wanted to.

  No. I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that. Every time I was with Staci it felt real. Even if our relationship was fake, she always seemed genuine. And I wanted that with her more than anything else.

  “Tell me what to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Staci

  Friday night finally rolled around, and I crawled into bed and put in my. I’d successfully avoided the internet all week, and even the paparazzi seemed to have finally lost interest. Sometimes I would wonder what Brandon was doing, but then I told myself it didn’t matter. He’d made his feelings abundantly clear.

  As for me, I’d kept up my end of the bargain. I’d taken a few days off from work and spent the time holed up in my room. The solitude only reminded me how lonely I was, how much I missed Brandon. I didn’t want to miss him, but I did.

  When I returned to the office, there had been an enormous bouquet waiting for me. Some of the women in my office sighed wistfully, and I couldn’t ignore their comments about “how romantic Brandon was,” and “what a hero he was.” At least the media strategy seemed to be working, even if my heart wasn’t in it.

  My heart was
n’t in much of anything these days. In fact, it felt like my chest was an empty cavity. Even music didn’t seem to evoke the same reaction as it used to.

  I was listening to the same song on repeat when Ellie came into our room. I’d hoped she would take the hint and leave me alone, but when the mattress dipped, I knew I wouldn’t be so fortunate.

  “Stace?” Elle asked, tapping me on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I groaned and buried my head beneath the pillow, which managed to push my earbuds out of place. “I just want to be alone.”

  “It’s been a week. You need to get out of the house. Do something fun.”

  “No, I don’t,” I muttered into the pillow.

  “Will came by the other day to check on you. Why don’t you call him and play some music together? Or even just go out for some ice cream. Something,” she said, and I could her the plea in her tone.

  I felt bad, but it was like I was underwater. She was holding out a hand to help me, but I was in too deep. I didn’t have enough energy or desire to swim.

  “It’s not part of the strategy,” I said in a dry tone.

  “I’m sick of ‘the strategy,’” she ground out before adding in a softer voice, “I feel like I’m losing you. Like we almost lost Mama.”

  That got my attention. I pushed my pillow aside, knowing how hard it had been to watch Mama retreat into herself the past few months. I didn’t want Ellie to feel as lost and helpless about me as we had about Mama. Not when she’d done so much to keep our family going.

  “You’re not losing me,” I sighed.

  “Prove it.” She smirked.

  I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. “What are you—five?”

  “No. But I’m willing to resort to desperate measures. Go with me to the concert tonight,” she said.

  A few days ago, Scott had sent over the VIP Backstage tickets to the Rain Taylor concert. It was yet one more opportunity to prove that Brandon wasn’t the heartless heartbreaker but instead the hero, the doting boyfriend. My stomach churned, and I wasn’t sure I was up to it even if that meant missing an opportunity to meet a musician whose work I genuinely admired.