Billionaire: A First-Time Steamy Romance

by Gilead, Kate

  “Wow,” she says again, then giggles. “I feel like my vocabulary has abandoned ship. All I can say is ‘wow.”

  If you keep giggling like that, I think to myself, I’m going to have to abandon ship, go overboard and beg you to marry me right now, tonight, no matter what it takes.

  “I know the feeling. That’s all I can think when I look at you. And think about awesome it is that we met again like this.”

  She pauses on the steps, looking down at me. Her shining eyes! “Brad…I…it seems like a dream to me, too. Or, a miracle.”

  Her smile and the way she looks at me makes me feel like a champion. Like no other woman ever has.

  At the top, the stairs give way into an enormous room with large windows and wood floors.

  My desk, with its computer components, big screen and stacks of papers and general mess, sits in one corner.

  My gym equipment takes up the whole of the other side of the room. In the center of the room is a state-of-the-art wood stove with glass doors, surrounded by a brick hearth.

  I open a door immediately to our right, which leads to the bathroom, with its hot tub and built-in sauna.

  Cherry’s looking around wide-eyed, not saying much.

  “This is why the smaller room is my bedroom. Because it leads up here, to my office-slash-private gym-slash-sauna-slash-hot tub-slash-luxury master bathroom, all rolled into one.”

  “Geez,” she says, smiling and shaking her head.

  “Also…” I open another door in the bathroom. It leads to a walk-in closet and generous dressing room with built in drawers, shelves and cubbies for storage. It’s still pretty much empty. “I don’t have anywhere near the clothes to fill this room,” I say. “But someday, maybe someone else will.”

  She glances at me somberly, nods, then looks away again.

  “I’m proud of this space in particular because I did all the design myself. It’s an addition I had put on the roof. “

  “It’s very spacious and has a nice masculine vibe,” she remarks. “But it all flows and it seems so comfortable.”

  I find I’m eager to impress her. Eager to draw her in.

  “You can see the greenhouse from here,” I say, going to the window by my desk and pointing out. “Check out how beautiful it is inside there. A riot of green in every shade. And look, the orange, red and yellow peppers and tomatoes kind of look like flowers from here.”

  “It’s awesome! You said the greenhouse was part of the story of this place? “

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s hear it!”

  “Okay. So, the man who built this place back in the twenties was a rich American called Jonathan Drake who visited Toronto one summer. Here, he met a poor girl named Rose, who was working as a street vendor, selling flowers, to help her family survive. He fell in love with her and asked her to marry him and go live the high life in his waterfront mansion in Florida. She refused, saying her family needed her more than Jonathan did.”

  “Aww!”

  “Yeah. The story goes that he tried everything he could think of to change her mind, promising to shower her with money and jewels and furs and servants and he’d even pay towards the upkeep of her family.”

  “She sounds damn lucky.”

  “But she still said no. She refused to leave her family. She loved her siblings like they were her own children, and her parents, though poor, had always loved and raised them as best they could. They lived in a real rathole of a place, a tenement, but they were very close and she would never leave them.”

  “Let me guess. So he built this place for them all?”

  “Good guess! That’s the story. He sold off his American properties and built this place for them all. With a special rooftop greenhouse for his Rose, who, according to all accounts, had a green thumb like no other.”

  “Is that the original greenhouse that he built for her?”

  “No, that’s new but it’s on the same spot.”

  “I wonder why he built an apartment building and not just a big house for them all?”

  “Not sure. Might be a zoning thing. Maybe he was thinking ahead and planned to rent out some units in the future. Or, maybe he wanted to make Rose happy, while maintaining some semblance of privacy for their, um, shenanigans,” I reply, making quote marks in the air. “That’s what I’d be thinking, anyway.”

  She smiles distractedly. “And so, then what happened? They all lived happily ever after?” Cherry’s face, raptly listening, is lovely and hopeful but I detect a kind of sadness there, too.

  Which makes me hesitate, not wanting to disappoint her with the truth.

  But she could hear the story from someone else, so I just tell her. “Well…no. Not exactly. Rose and Jonathan had no children of their own. Rose’s siblings all grew up and left. Her parents did live here until their deaths. But unfortunately, Rose herself died not long after her parents, leaving Jonathan alone again.”

  “Oh no! How sad.”

  “Yes. He became reclusive, shuttered most of the place and refused to let anyone in. After he died, the property went into probate for many years, as I mentioned earlier. Rose’s nieces and nephews fought over who would inherit it. It continued to deteriorate since no one was living here or looking after it during that time.”

  “How did you happen to find it?”

  “I’ve always lived around here and knew about the building and the story. It was the neighborhood haunted house for decades, you know, the one kids would break into and dare each other to stay the night.”

  “Were you one of them?”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “Oh come on!”

  “Okay, yes. I didn’t make it through the night though. My dad came looking for me, worried I’d fall through a rotting floorboard or something. He dragged my ass home and made my friends go home too. Hah!”

  She smiles. “And so how’d you end up buying it?”

  “Would you believe, the probate case was finally resolved only a few years ago. Rose’s great-nephew sold it to me. The value was in all this land, but I loved this building and always wanted to restore it.”

  She stands by my side and peers out, taking in the snowy view. “You’ve done a great job here. Bringing new life…”she gestures towards the greenhouse, “building something solid. Making something good from sadness and tragedy.”

  She rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands, and when she does she looks so sweet and innocent that it makes my need for her ratchet up to a point that’s hard to stand.

  How am I gonna get through this night without trying to get her into bed?

  I want her, but I want to do this right. I don’t want to ruin it by giving her the wrong impression. I don’t want her to think I expect payment in sex for helping her out for the night.

  Because I want more than just one night. Much more.

  She clasps her hands in front of her and tries to give me a smile, but doesn’t quite make it.

  Instead, her chin starts to tremble and she puts her hands over her eyes again.

  “I’m sorry! I’m…I’m just kind of overwhelmed. It’s been been a tough time for me, lately, and…and… I’ve been so worried, and, um, you know, just, kind of… alone for such a long time and…and…I…”

  “Hey, that’s okay,” I say, and my heart just melts in my chest to see her distress.

  I can’t help myself, I can’t stay away from her.

  I step over to her and touch the back of her arm, very gently. “C’mere,” I murmur, urging her towards me.

  Her face crumples as I take her in my arms and hold her tightly against my chest. I can feel her body vibrating with tension, like she’s holding in sobs.

  She can’t be crying over Rose and Jonathan, so I don’t know what’s wrong exactly or why she’s felt so alone. But it’s obvious that she needs some support right now and I’m happy to provide it.

  “Hey…hey sweetie? If you need to cry, go ahead and cry. It’s okay. Let it out.”

&nb
sp; Her arms creep up around my waist as she buries her face against my chest. The sobs come, and I just hold her, rubbing her back and murmuring. Poor Cherry, she’s really hurting.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers into my chest, her voice thick with tears. “I don’t mean to burden you with my problems.”

  In response, I tighten my arms around her and cradle her head under my chin. “You’re not a burden Cherry. You…I don’t know if you were aware of this, but I always…when we worked together, back in the day? I always thought you were beautiful. And spunky and cheerful and funny and smart. I thought you’d make someone a great wife someday, and frankly, I kinda wished…”

  In my arms, her body goes tense and then she steps away, holding her hand up in front of her nose and mouth. Her eyes are red from crying.

  She looks alarmed. Oh no, oh shit…why does she look alarmed? Fuck, I’ve said too much, scared her off…I try to stop her from stepping back but she pushes away from me.

  “Brad? I’m so sorry…but…I have to….I need a tissue! I… I got suh..suh…snot all over your shirt!”

  “Oh, Christ, is that all?” I roll my head as my shoulders sag with relief. Maybe she didn’t even hear what I was trying to say. “There’s tissue right behind you on the desk there.”

  While she cleans herself up, I look down and sure enough, there’s a bunch of wet spots on my shirt, more or less in the shape of a pair of eyes, a nose, and even a bit of slobber for a mouth.

  I hold my shirt out away from myself to get a better look. “Oh, hey! Look, Cherry. That’s some real Picasso artwork you got going on there, honey,” I laugh.

  Turned away from me so she can discreetly blow her nose, she glances back, sees my shirt and laughs.

  Thank God! If I can still get a laugh out of her, then maybe things aren’t so bad.

  Chapter Six

  Cherry

  Back downstairs in the living room after my mini-nervous breakdown, Brad puts on a pot of tea and then insists on knowing more about what’s been bothering me.

  “I know it’s not Jonathan and Rose, is it?”

  “No. But that ending…where Jonathan ending up being alone…? That kind of…reminds me of me, I guess. I’ve just spent too much time alone. Struggling, just trying to survive…alone. Meh, I should just put a sock in it. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

  “No, don’t put a sock in it. I want to hear about it. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

  “Well… um. I…I’m a solitary person by nature but I think it’s not good for someone to be alone too much. You know? I have no siblings. My parents had me late in life and we left Ohio when I was seventeen. Now, they’re getting older…hell, they’re elderly. They’re independent but not rich and I…don’t like to burden them.”

  “And when they pass away, you’re afraid you’ll be entirely alone.”

  I nod miserably.

  “Aww, sweetie. What about friends?”

  I shrug. “I lost touch with childhood friends. It’s easy when you’re in a completely different country. And I didn’t stay in college long enough to make any there. Then, I moved back and forth so much for work, I suppose I haven’t made any real connections or put down any real roots.”

  “And you haven’t found a lasting connection with a partner yet, either. Well I can see why that would make a person anxious, sweetie.”

  “Thanks,” I give him a smile as he hands me a cup of steaming brew and sits next to me. “I’m really picky about my partners too.” None of them were you, I’m thinking, but not saying. “I don’t want to…I’m kind of old-fashioned in some ways, I guess. I want to be in love, and I want to be loved back. I don’t want to be with…just, you know, anyone, for the sake of not being alone.”

  I stop talking again, afraid I sound all victim-y and boring. Hell, I sound that way to myself.

  But Brad doesn’t seem bored. He’s just regarding me with those warm eyes. He turns to me and squeezes my hand. “You’re not alone anymore. Okay? I’m here for you. You can take that to the bank.”

  I squeeze his fingers back. Then, he kisses my hand before releasing it, blowing my mind and making my heart soar like I never knew it could.

  That flame that flickered to life within me when we met earlier is growing by leaps and bounds, it seems.

  “You have no idea what it means to me to be here with you Brad. Thank you so much for your kindness! Really, I can’t adequately express how much I appreciate your help.”

  “Cherry? Stop thanking me. I love y…I love having you here. I always loved having you around.”

  I blink at him. Did he almost say what I thought he almost said? Or was it just a slip of the tongue?

  “Well I was more fun back in those days. Didn’t start blubbering at the drop of a hat, you know.”

  “You can paint my shirt with your blubbering any time, Picasso. And you can pay me back by not beating yourself up anymore. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “How about we finish our tea, then I can show you the rest of the place, and then we’ll decide what to do after that.”

  * * *

  We spend the next couple hours enjoying Brad’s home.

  First, he shows me his games room. Down another hallway off the living room, a door opens to a short hallway, and that leads to what was once the other apartment on the opposite side of this one.

  Now, though, it’s an open space with separate areas for various games or recreations.

  The far end has a long, empty space. “That’s where the bowling alley’s gonna go, someday,” Brad informs me.

  In the middle, there’s a pool table, and a ping-pong table, each in their own space with appropriate lighting overhead.

  The closer end has a long wet bar with a dart board adorning one wall, while a row of old pinball machines stand against the opposite wall.

  There’s a big screen TV, under which is a shelving unit holding what looks like every kind of video game console in existence. When I say, “Ooooh,” at the sight of all those consoles, Brad laughs. “I thought you’d like that,” he says. Comfortable lounge-style armchairs and couches complete the area.

  Behind a partition is a home movie theatre. Six over-stuffed recliners are arranged in the center, each equipped with fold-away trays and cupholders.

  “This is great, Brad. You’ve got everything here. You must host a lot of parties.”

  “I did, at first. But I got kind of tired of it. I still have the boys over from time to time, but…now, I’m hoping one day there’ll be a bunch of kids running around in here.”

  The way he looks at me when he says this makes that hopeful feeling rise in my heart again.

  “What about you Cherry? I don’t recall ever discussing this back at Borden. Were you ever hoping to be a mother?”

  “Very much. I always wanted to be a mother, and to have a big family. Maybe I need to make up for a lonely childhood.”

  “Well, I have two other siblings besides Lana and I want a big family too. Maybe wanting children is natural to a lot of people, regardless of their childhood.”

  His words are casually spoken but I can clearly sense that it’s important to him. “Yes, I think so too.”

  He’s looking at me in that way again. I meet his eyes and smile.

  He puts his hands in his pockets, smiles back, then takes them out again. “Hey, care for a game of pool? Or ping-pong? I promise to go easy on ya.”

  “Oh, I’m no good at either one. I…”

  “Come on, just give it a try.” He takes up a position at the opposite end of the ping-pong table and waves a paddle at me. “Just smack the ball around with me for a bit.”

  We end up playing for almost an hour, with him hooting and hollering at me to “put some spin on it” and suchlike. I can’t tell if he’s letting me win or not, but by the time we’re done, I’m holding my own.

  This new Brad is full of surprises. He was always hot, funny and sweet and I always liked him.

  Liked hi
m?

  I was in love with him. Puppy-love, maybe, but now…I feel like this could go to another level.

  I’ve never had a man pay so much attention to me or show such care and concern. He was like that back when, too, and he’s no different now.

  Please God, if this is meant to be…my man…my future…please don’t let me screw it up.

  * * *

  After the games room, we wander down to the second floor, with him chatting about the various difficulties and challenges he’s faced with this project of his.

  The second floor has two spacious apartments, one on each side of the central hallway. Both units are nearly done, with taped drywall ready to paint and finishes waiting to be installed.

  “These will be reserved for family,” he says. “My parents are dual Canadian-US citizens and they live in Florida most of the year. But when they need assisted living help, it can be here. If they want it. Right now, though, there’s no rush.”

  There’s not much to see in these apartment units, but his excitement and passion for his home and plans is boyish and attractive…and infectious, to the point that he makes what would otherwise be boring mechanical stuff, seem interesting.

  Almost.

  I can’t help but get caught up in his warmth and enthusiasm.

  Down in the basement, he proudly shows off the new boiler system, which has been cleverly integrated with the old radiators, making the heating system more efficient and reliable. He’s even excited about the trash compactor unit.

  God he’s adorable!

  There are two party rooms and a vast storage area in the basement, as well as a roughed-in laundry area, ready to service a number of washers and dryers if necessary.

  “You’re obviously keeping re-sale value in mind as well. Otherwise, why have a basement laundry room when the units all have separate laundry hook-ups?”

  “Right again. If I ever want to sell the place, it’s more likely that some rental corporation or landlord would be buying a place like this than someone looking for a home for themselves.”