Girl Meets Billionaire

by Aubrey, Brenna

  Brett turns to me. I know he’s thinking of my father even before he says it. “He’d roll around in his grave.”

  Meaning, if he knew what Mom did.

  “He’d kick right out of his coffin,” I growl.

  We get our falafels and eat them side-by-side, leaning against the car, watching the workers. It never gets old. In some ways, Brett and I are still those boys who can’t get enough of diggers and cranes.

  When I finish my falafel, I fish out my phone. I just need to send the picture and be done with it.

  “Who are you sending a Morrison truck to?”

  “Vicky. She has a griffin thing.”

  He lays into his second falafel without comment.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “She’s handled.”

  “Did I say anything?” he says.

  “You were specifically silent,” I say. “So, yeah.”

  He snorts.

  I pause, thumbs poised, unsure what to say along with the griffin pic. I type Thanks for the trees. Then I change it to Here’s to griffins and mad forestry expertise, then I delete it.

  I type Friend of yours? Then erase it. Then, Thinking about bow ties. Then I change it to This guy is asking where TF my bow tie is.

  Delete.

  This is all very disturbing, because I happen to be a master of texting the just-right thing to a woman, no matter what the circumstance, from pre-hookup banter to post-hookup emojis.

  I don’t know what to text to Vicky. How can I not know?

  But I do know. I really want to say, I loved kissing you. I forgot what it was like to kiss somebody because it felt like the only thing in the world worth doing. I forgot what it was like to sit and make things with somebody who gives a shit how curlicues line up. I wish you were here.

  “Soooooo,” Brett says. “How is operation good cop going? Operation hot cop?”

  I bristle at the name. “Just concentrate on your part.”

  More specific silence.

  I look up. “What?”

  He nods at my phone. “Cat got your thumbs?”

  “If I’m going to do a thing, I’m going to do it right.”

  “Okay, Uncle Andy,” he jokes, meaning my dad.

  “It’s under control,” I growl.

  He falls silent, not loving the growl. Then, “You sure?”

  I stare at the image. It’s a cartoon version, but fierce, protective. “She has a griffin thing. From when she first got to town.” I turn to him. “Did that PI ever say anything about any kind of bullying incident in her past?”

  “No. Though bullying doesn’t always get reported. Her background is a little sparse. Her internet footprint is small for somebody her age.”

  “Something big happened back in Prescott,” I say. “Somebody really did a number on her. Turned a lot of the town against her, it sounds like.”

  “I can ask the PI about it.”

  “Do it,” I say. “Somebody went after her, and I want to know who. I want to know what happened and I want to know who.”

  I can feel his eyes on me. “Is this part of operation good cop?”

  “Just get me the details.” I type Someone says hi and send it off.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vicky

  Two days after the kiss, April calls to inform me that Smuckers and I are scheduled to come to a groundbreaking ceremony for a brain disorders research facility on Staten Island.

  I put on my favorite outfit, a maroon pencil skirt with a dusky gray sweater. I pause over the pearly buttons, remembering the way his fingers worked them, trembling just a little, as if he really wanted me. It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced.

  The hottest thing I’d ever experienced was a man undoing my sweater as if he wanted me.

  I sink to the bed. Despair and resentment twist through me, bright and sharp. Smuckers watches me alertly from his nest of blankets.

  It seemed so real for a while, but he’s one of the best. One word from him and buildings shoot up to the sky and women fall to their knees. There’s a reason for that.

  What am I doing?

  Wearing that exact same sweater style for him again, that’s what.

  I flop back on the bed and scroll to Henry’s griffin text, like I have a dozen times before. Like that’s proof he was thinking about me.

  He was really thinking about his company, wasn’t he? He tried a few underhanded things and now he’s going with seduction.

  He wants the company back, and why not? It should’ve been his. He deserves it back. He’s not like Denny.

  I put the phone to my chest and stare at the water-stained ceiling.

  And I make a decision. This thing has to end.

  Carly wanders in and shakes her head at my outfit. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

  “I have something to tell you,” I say. “I’m signing the company over to Henry.”

  “Ex-cuuuuuse?” she says, outraged and dramatic.

  “It’s not mine. It’s not right.”

  “It belongs to poor Smuckers.”

  “Come on,” I say. “It’s Henry’s birthright. I’m going to have Smuckers sign it over.”

  “But…all the money!”

  “It’s not ours.”

  “He tried to trick you,” Carly says. “He tried to bully you. He had you detained!”

  “And now all that ends.”

  “So a rich, entitled asshole who thinks he can get his way all the time gets his way?”

  The memory of the kiss washes over me. I would’ve given him anything. It’s dangerous. How far would he have gone? Seducing me out of sheer duty? “Decision made,” I say.

  Carly narrows her eyes. “Hooooold on. This is a pretty major financial decision.”

  I smile bitterly. “A multi-billion-dollar decision.”

  “Well, are you forgetting something, perhaps? A certain cooling off period that we promised each other to honor?”

  “This is different.”

  “How? It’s a major financial decision. It affects us both—that’s our pact.”

  I sit up. Shit. “I can’t—”

  “We keep our word to each other,” she says. “Right?”

  Nobody has a nose for hypocrisy quite like a teen. I look over at the calendar. Twenty-one days. “I have to at least tell him. He’s…” trying to seduce it out of me. “He’s in misery.”

  “Oh, no, no, no, no, noooo!” Carly can see she’s got me and she’s enjoying it. “Making a commitment is a promise. If you’re good for your word, saying you’ll do a thing is like doing a thing. Same as,” she adds. “We keep our word, us two. And Henry and the rest of the Worldwide Cocks, what with their do-the-right-thing bullshit and then they try to trick you? Please—”

  “Okay, okay.” I hold up a hand. “But I’m giving it back.”

  “If you so decide after your cooling off period, then yes.”

  I look at her standing there, all on fire. “I don’t know if I hate you or love you more right now.”

  She grins. “And you cannot verbally commit to it. No I’m giving you your company back but I have to humor my sister.”

  I toss a balled-up sock at her.

  “Bird,” she says.

  When April told me a car was coming, I assumed it would be my own personal limo, as is the Locke Worldwide way, but when I step out onto the sidewalk with Smuckers in his fave riding purse, it’s Henry standing there, holding the door open.

  He pulls off his aviator glasses. My soul lights up like a switchboard.

  “Good morning,” he says. His brown suit fits perfectly over his broad shoulders as if to say, Oh, all of the places you will not go! But really, really want to!

  “Hi,” I say, like I’m not awash in the Henry Locke magic. I slide into the limo, positioning Smuckers on the cock blocker side of me.

  He sits next to me and hands over a java chip Frappuccino. Because of course he remembered. It’s part of the seducer’s job.
>
  “Thank you.” I sip. “So. A groundbreaking ceremony.”

  “It’s one of the things you two’ll be doing now.” He pulls a small blue vest from a bag. It has the Locke Worldwide logo embroidered on the side of it.

  “Oh my god.” I put the cup in the holder and hold it up. “I don’t know about this.”

  “Come on,” Henry says. “A little team spirit.”

  “Poor Smuckers. He’s officially on team Cock Worldwide.”

  Henry narrows his eyes. “What was that?”

  “Cock Worldwide?” I study his eyes, get lost there for a second. “What? Are you honestly telling me you’ve never heard that?”

  He gives me this look, like he thinks I’m joking. “Cock Worldwide. That’s not a…thing.”

  “You don’t know?”

  He looks uncertain. “Nobody calls us that.”

  I snort. “Yeah, nobody except everybody who stands on the ground looking up at the giant cranes. I get that the logo is supposed to look like a building between two bushes, but seriously? And just…the giant cranes? Erecting massive buildings?”

  He looks at me, genuinely surprised. It comes to me that nobody wanted to tell him because they’re too busy worshipping him.

  “People wouldn’t call us that,” he says.

  “It’s cute that you don’t even know.”

  “I think somebody has an overactive imagination.”

  “Oh, meaning me?” I say. “You think it’s only me who calls it that?”

  “Yeah, I do. Which reveals the direction of your thoughts.”

  “So arrogant,” I say, as if his nearness isn’t a tickle. As if my skin isn’t pure shivery nerve endings when I get around him. “I’m not the one covering the city with massive phallic symbols emblazoned with my name. It’s the direction of your thoughts we should be concerned about.”

  “Like a Rorschach ink-blot test,” he teases. “Some people see cranes, the progress of a city, but you see something quite different.”

  “Oh, pull-ease.” I snatch the vest from his hands and get Smuckers out of the purse. “You ready to be on team Cock Worldwide, buddy?” I put the vest on him. It fits perfectly.

  “People wouldn’t call us that.”

  “Think what you want. The world is your golden crib.”

  Henry reaches over and runs his finger over the cursive L in Locke, a move that brings his arm and hand dangerously close to my lap.

  “The loop on that L looks like a C. You have to at least admit that.”

  “Well…Cock Worldwide, huh.” He seems to ponder. “If the name fits…”

  “Oh my god!” I grab his hand. I’m just laughing now. “You are so bad!”

  He grins at me, and there’s a whoosh where the whole world stops. And I think he’s going to kiss me. I know he’s going to kiss me. And I want it.

  God, how I want it.

  I let go and sit back, cross my arms, take a shallow breath.

  “What’s going on?” he asks.

  “Your fake seduction plan. You think I’m that stupid or just that desperate?”

  “Look at me.” Then, voice strained, “Vicky.”

  I don’t look at him.

  “I would never think you’re stupid or desperate. They’re the last things I’d think of you.”

  “I know what you’re doing. And just…I want you to understand that you don’t have to do it.” This is as close as I can come to telling him I’m giving back the company without breaking the pact.

  I don’t have much, but I have my word.

  He slides the back of his fingers across my cheek. My blood rushes hot through my veins. I shut my eyes.

  Hard skin brushes soft, featherlight. Smooth and slow. His touch is so gentle, I think my heart might crack.

  His voice, when it comes, is a whisper. “Kiss me, Vicky.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Kiss me.” His voice is low and urgent. “Be with me.”

  My heart stutters.

  He skims down below my jawline now, sliding against my skin with the back of one finger, slow, slow and scorchingly tender.

  “You want to.”

  “You are so…” I pause, breathless.

  His finger travels downward, putting pressure on the top button, popping it. He finds more skin to slide down, pausing at the center of my chest, a whisper of a presence above my pounding heart.

  “You are so…” I try again.

  I don’t have it in me to think up a playful insult. Heat swells heavy between my legs.

  He leans in. Lips to my ear. His face is a soft rustle on my hair.

  My breath comes faster.

  “You’re going to kiss me,” he says. “Maybe not today, but you’ll come to me. I can wait.”

  “Such an operator,” I say, gaze falling to his hand at my chest.

  He moves down, unbuttons another button. “You like watching my hands, don’t you?” He undoes another button.

  “Are you just undoing my buttons now? Yes,” I say.

  “And you’re into it.”

  “And the arrogance just doesn’t quit, folks.” I’m going for light quip here, but my voice is rough with desire.

  “You like my hands, I think.” He undoes another button, revealing the top of my camisole. “You’re going to like them even better when they’re between your legs.”

  Dark lust arrows through me. “Oh my god,” I say, as though I think it’s funny. It’s not.

  “I’ll get you off, baby. I’ll take such good care of you. I’ll take you slow and deep. I’ll print every inch of your skin. Nothing—nothing about it will be fake.”

  “So entitled,” I breathe, finally mustering up the strength to shove away his hand.

  He pins me with his gaze. “I’ll wait. I can bide my time.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to wind your watch to infinity.”

  A baffled light appears in his eyes. Like a baffled light of wonder. That’s probably fake, too. Fake fake fake. I’m not interested in his fake seduction.

  I pull out my phone. “So what is this groundbreaking thing?”

  He takes a ragged breath. Like he’s so overwhelmed he can’t talk for a bit.

  I roll my eyes. “Seriously?” But inside, where he can’t see, I’m shaking with need for him.

  In a rough voice, he tells me about the facility, and how getting a reputation in high-tech research could lead to some important jobs.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Vicky

  The groundbreaking turns out to be a lot of people in their Sunday best standing on bare dirt inside a fenced-in lot that takes up nearly an entire block.

  And cameras. Lots of cameras.

  I put Smuckers on his long retractable leash and let him run around and receive petting from his minions. I smile and laugh and discreetly lower my sunglasses.

  But I can’t help wonder what Henry had planned. What if I had said yes? Would we be at a hotel right now instead of here? Butterflies whirl in my belly every time I look over at him.

  Brett comes over and presents Smuckers with a plastic squeaky shovel in Locke blue and everybody’s taking pictures of him running around with it in his mouth.

  Then the people involved with the facility get a silver shovel with a blue handle and they all take turns digging bits of dirt out of the ground.

  When it’s Henry’s turn, he takes off his suit jacket, rolls up his shirtsleeves, and digs up a massive shovelful of earth, heaving it aside. Everybody’s clapping, and he’s standing in the sunshine with his wicked, billion-dollar Henry Locke smile. He jams the shovel into the dirt and grabs his suit coat, slings it over his shoulder.

  When the applause dies down, he shoots a sly glance my way. He pretends to wind his watch.

  He’s mouthing a word. Infinity.

  My face flares hot. But I just shake my head. Like I’m immune.

  Brett has his own shtick. He holds Smuckers in his arms as if they’re wielding the shovel together. Afterward, pe
ople close in and pet Smuckers. I realize that Henry never pets Smuckers just for the pleasure of it.

  “You guys got him a little Locke shovel,” I say once we’re back in the limo. “Nice optics.”

  “I meant what I said,” he says. “I’m waiting.”

  “For me to come and kiss you,” I say.

  “And then all bets are off, Vicky.”

  My mouth goes dry. “I heard you the first time.” I try to think how to change the mood. I want to kiss him. Right now. In this place. “Do you not like dogs?”

  He frowns. “I like dogs.”

  “I don’t think you do. The only time you ever pet Smuckers is…for a purpose. You want to make him paddle his legs or calm down or something. You never just pet him out of fun.”

  “He’s just a dog, Vicky.” He doesn’t deny it, and I feel a little sorry for him right then.

  “You hardly ever even say his name.”

  “Smuckers is just a dog.” He glances over at me. “Is that better?”

  “A dog your mother left her company to.”

  “You think I’m jealous of a dog? Please, Vicky. If I wanted to wear my hair in a marshmallow Afro and live in a woman’s purse, I think I could find a way to arrange it. This is New York, after all. There is probably a dominatrix out there who’d make it happen.”

  I cross my arms. “You know what I find weird? People aren’t freaking out about Smuckers’s control of the company very much. They all seem to think it’s a PR stunt.”

  “A lot of people see it as a PR stunt. Connected to his dog shelter gift.”

  “And you’re letting them think that.”

  “We are.”

  “Why not tell people the truth?” I ask. “Unless…I don’t know…”

  He says, “Unless we have more evil plans to get rid of you?”

  I say nothing. Because, yeah, does he have yet another trick up his sleeve? I wish I could just tell him—don’t worry, you’ll get it back.

  But how can I expect Carly to keep her word if I don’t keep mine?

  “You know how many people we employ?” Luckily he answers the question for himself. “Directly, we employ three hundred forty thousand people across ten offices worldwide. When you count vendors and subcontractors, it’s double that. Those are real people with real lives and families and homes, people who depend on the health of this firm to make house payments and put food on the table. Do I want to announce that a Maltese is in charge of all that?”