Loving the Secret Billionaire

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Loving the Secret Billionaire Page 8

by Adriana Anders


  “Veronica?” O’Neal sounded concerned. How long had I been sitting here, breathing hard like this? “Veronica, you okay? Where are you?”

  I turned, tried to focus on the passing landscape. Where? Where am I?

  In a car. In a car that he’d ordered. Wearing shoes that he’d given me to replace the Chuck Taylors I’d worn out canvassing. Winning an election that he’d somehow rigged.

  Was Rylie even guilty? Oh no, if Zach had planted evidence to make me win, this was—

  O’Neal’s no-nonsense voice cut through my freak-out. “Hand the phone to the driver.”

  Dumbly, I did.

  He gave me a look, but listened. “Headed to the Loft on Main.”

  The shit you’re a crazy lady look he sent me would’ve been funny if I could’ve laughed through this. But I couldn’t. It felt like I wouldn’t laugh again.

  When the car dropped me in front of the building, I stood there, head hurting like it was caught in a vise, everything else numb, and I blinked.

  Someone spoke to me, I shook their hand, nodded, smiled, got caught up in their wake and headed toward the door. At some point, my campaign manager talked to me and, when I didn’t answer, she took me aside.

  “What’s up?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Tonight? You sick?”

  I shook my head and the world wobbled. Plastic chairs slid across my vision, sending my hand out to the side. Someone caught it: O’Neal.

  The two of them spoke and, slowly, their words started to emerge. I wasn’t okay, they needed to get me home. Event canceled.

  I let them do it, feeling like a coward, but incapable of doing it on my own.

  I blinked and found myself beside O’Neal in her big, old mess of a Subaru.

  “Let me get you home.”

  I nodded. About five minutes into the drive, I slapped a hand onto the dashboard and yelled—not a good idea to startle O’Neal, who was a crappy driver at the best of times, but she kept it together.

  “What the hell, man?”

  “Take me to his house.”

  “Zach’s?”

  I nodded. She knew. She knew it was him. He’d done this, somehow. Because he hadn’t trusted me to win this election on my own.

  I gave her the address and sucked awareness back into my body with each breath.

  She pulled up the drive and whistled. “What the hell is this place?”

  “His beard.”

  “It’s huge.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s bigger than it looks.”

  I reached for the door, swung it open and turned back to her. “Wait for me. Please?”

  At her nod, I got out and stomped to the door.

  10

  Zach

  * * *

  I ignored the banging at the front door, but it wouldn’t stop. Finally, I pulled off my headset, shoved away from my desk and jogged upstairs. I opened the door and smiled, surprised, but so excited to have my girl here.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Who is Horde?”

  I stiffened, but didn’t respond.

  “Does he do illegal things? Like fixing elections?” The pain in her voice made my chest hurt. “Do you?”

  I reached for her, and she backed up a step. “That’s not—”

  “What did you do, Zach?”

  An engine idled in my driveway and I knew if she left now, I wouldn’t see her again. I couldn’t lose her. “Can you come in and talk about this?”

  “Tell me. What did you do?”

  I swallowed. Shit. Not how this was supposed to go down. At all.

  “I found something out. About your opponent. That’s all.”

  “How? How’d you find it out? How come nobody else figured it out, huh? What did you do?”

  “I…” I cleared my throat, unsure I could actually get the words out. I’d never said this before, never voiced what I did with my time. “I accessed his private emails. It was ridiculously easy to crack that password, the man doesn’t even—” Her silence was stone cold. I cleared my throat and kept it vague. “Followed some leads to offshore accounts. Backtracked to some dicey financial transactions and—”

  “Wait, wait, wait. You’re a hacker? All this time I thought you did financial stuff and you hack into things. Illegally?”

  “I made my money through investments. I didn’t lie about that. Or the inventions. But…I hack for good.”

  “Oh, right.” She snorted. “Like freaking Robin Hood?”

  “When I lost my sight, I thought life was over. I could see, you know? How was I even a person?” I couldn’t believe I was telling her this, actually giving her my story. My Granddad had been such a mess after the accident. I mean, he’d lost his wife years before and suddenly his son was gone and he was left with me—a kid who’d been bright, but awkward to begin with. He tried everything, made me buck up, act like life hadn’t changed. “When everything was hopeless, my Granddad gave in to pressure and bought me a computer. I started gaming. I was good at it. Really good. I met some people—people who didn’t give a crap if I could see them or not. While most kids were going to school, I was at home on my computer, learning everything there was to know about code and security. I learned about weaknesses and how to exploit them.” I spent years growing from being a powerless kid into a powerful teenager. I made a difference from the basement of this house.

  “I’m sorry you were hurt, Zach. But this wasn’t your election to fix.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but she kept going. “Where’s your computer? Where do you work?”

  “In the basement.”

  “Show me.”

  “You sure you want me to?”

  “I don’t know!” she yelled, moving away. “I mean, no, I don’t want that, but I also want the man I’m with to be above the law. How can I love someone who makes a living doing bad things?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh, right. Just a little hacking on the side. For fun.”

  “Not for fun.” My voice was loud and low. I didn’t want to sound mean, but she was starting to piss me off with her accusations. What I did wasn’t fun. It was important.

  “Oh, right. For the public good.”

  “I’ll explain. But you have to come in.”

  “No. I’m not going in there right now. I need to think and I can’t think clearly when you’re around. Didn’t you believe in me? Didn’t you believe I could do it on my own?” she whispered, and it crushed me. “Didn’t you think I could win this election without cheating?”

  “You didn’t cheat.”

  “No, but you did.”

  “It’s not cheating if it’s real.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Riley has spent the last five years embezzling from his fancy uptown firm. He’d have gotten caught sooner or later. I just made sure it came out before it was too late.”

  She sniffled. Oh, shit. She was crying. “I wish you hadn’t done that, Zach. I wish you could undo it.” I reached for her, but she shifted out of my reach again and I let her. “I’m not okay with this. I don’t even know if I can stay in the race now. I can’t win like this, I—”

  “Don’t. Don’t drop out. Please. I’ll apologize. I’ll turn myself in.”

  “No.” She backed away, leaving me alone and so fucking pissed. “No. You do you, okay Zach? You do whatever it is you do…and I’ll do me. I just wish you’d given me a choice, you know?”

  She clomped down the stairs and when I started after her, she turned and whispered, “Stay.”

  I did, though I hated it. But what I hated even more was my relief that I wouldn’t have to chase her out there, into the world.

  I listened to her steps crunch down my front walk, to the waiting car, listened to the door close, and to the rattling engine of the car that carried her away from me. And I didn’t do a damned thing to stop her.

  * * *

  Veronica

  * * *

  O’Neal too
k me back to her place, this little cottage close to the ocean, and set me up on her sofa with white wine, which I gulped like a fiend, and Chinese food, which I ignored. She ran out to the store and came back with those lotiony tissues, more wine, and five flavors of ice cream.

  “So, you’re done with him?”

  “I don’t know. I want to be done with everything.”

  “What? No. No, V, no way. You drop out of this race and there’s no one to—”

  “I’m done, O’Neal. I’m so tired. I’ve worked so hard for this and to have it happen this way’s—”

  “Bullshit.” She leaned into my face, with that no-nonsense expression I’d seen her use only a handful of times. Scary. “I don’t care how it came to light, but Rylie was a crook. Wouldn’t you say we have enough crooks in government? Honestly?”

  “But that’s the point, see? Don’t you get it? If I accept this… this gift or whatever it was meant to be, then I’m just as crooked as they are.”

  She leaned back, refilled our wine glasses and sniffed, conceding the point. For now. “Rylie screwed his own pooch, V.”

  “I know. But I’m not going to profit from it.”

  “The entire community would profit from it if you do this.”

  “I can’t.”

  “So, what are your choices?”

  I shrugged, slugged back some more wine, and thought about it. “Drop out, I guess.”

  “No. Nope. Newwwwp. Petition to move the elections back. But don’t give up. You’re too big a voice now. You’ve got too many people counting on you. You get that, right? All this work, all those people working for your campaign, they need you. I need you.”

  I blinked. Was O’Neal Jones, my driven, tough-as-nails, take-no-prisoners bestie actually crying?

  “O’Neal, are you—”

  “No! No, I’m not. Because who do you think wrote that piece, huh?” She sniffed. “You think I don’t feel responsible for this? What the hell happens to this?” She waved her hand between us. “Between us, if you pull out now? How do you think that’ll work for me, if I made the mistake that changed the entire path of not only this town and its residents, but my best friend’s entire life?”

  I hadn’t thought of that.

  “You think I could file a request to postpone the election?”

  “I don’t know. But you could check. Right?” She hid her face behind her hands and made a half-laughing sound. “Don’t look at me when I tear up. I’m really bad at emotion.”

  Tears rushed to my eyes. I pushed them back and nodded. “No. You’re really good at it.”

  “Being emotional?” She giggled. “I’m the ice queen, remember?”

  “Only according to the guys you date. The guys you sleep with.” O’Neal Jones was allergic to commitment.

  “Sleep?”

  “Have sex with.”

  “Whatever. I don’t remember the last time I cried.”

  “I cry all the time.”

  “Seriously, V? You’re so together.”

  “Me?” That she’d see me that way truly surprised me, gave me a little bolster of something. “No. I’m a mess.”

  “Again, I call bullshit on your ass. You’re the strongest, most together person I know. You’re little and driven and you take no nonsense from anyone. You run your world like you run your classroom.”

  “With a hug and a board book?”

  She snuffled and grinned at me from behind her hands. “Exactly. With compassion, love, and kindness. You’re the strongest person I know, V. And you’re the best person for the job.” She grabbed her glass and sat back onto the sofa, leaning into me, shoulder to shoulder. “I sure hope you don’t let us all down.” She gave me a wink. “No pressure.”

  11

  Veronica

  * * *

  City Council agreed to postpone the election for three months, which gave the opposing party time to locate a new candidate. It also drew an enormous positive response from the city’s residents, who came out on Election Day to support me in droves. I beat the opposition with a very respectable margin.

  Fair and square.

  But I still felt like crap. Through the celebrations, the swearing in ceremony, and the first city council meeting, I had to work to muster a smile.

  I missed Zach. So much. I didn’t see him, but he was with me all the time—a ball in my throat, an ache in my chest, a cramp in my belly. Then of course, I spent way too much time googling him in my downtime, which was almost never, thank goodness. But the things I discovered made me miss him even more.

  Horde, it turned out, was legendary in a Robin Hood way. He’d taken down numerous corrupt politicians, had outed corporate bigwigs who’d cheated their employees and shareholders out of billions of dollars, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. Horde—Zach—was a hero.

  I’d picked up my phone to call him more times than I could count. But what would say? I forgive you? Keep being you and I’ll pretend it doesn’t exist?

  It was a Wednesday, halfway through the school’s summer preschool camp and I was out on the playground with the kids. We were wrapping up afternoon recess when O’Neal turned up on the playground, wearing a visitor’s badge. She called me over with a lift of her chin.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Press conference.” She gave me a mysterious look from under her lashes.

  “During school hours?”

  “Whole school’s invited, I hear.”

  The Vice Principal stuck her head out the door. “We’re calling an all-school meeting.”

  I glanced at O’Neal. Okay. This was weird.

  “What’s up?” I asked the Vice Principal.

  “Can you get these guys over to the auditorium?”

  “The auditorium?” I frowned at her, no clue what was going on, and then gathered the kids into their single-file line.

  “Big announcement,” O’Neal whispered.

  “You’re seriously not gonna tell me?”

  Her lips tightened into a knowing smirk. “Nope.”

  The buzz, when we got there, was huge. Kids shrieking, adults murmuring. Beyond the usual throng of children, I spotted the mayor up on the stage, a few cameras, people in suits, and in the middle of the stage—

  “Oh my God.”

  “Way hotter than his picture.” O’Neal leaned in to say into my ear.

  I nodded, incapable of more. I was frantic. What was he about to do? And, at the same time, I could see he looked good in a suit. Better than good, he looked like home. It made me want to cry and hug him. It made me wish I could take it all back.

  By the time the principal quieted everything down, I could barely hear for the pounding heartbeat in my ears.

  “We are here with some great news. As part of a larger donation to the city and the entire school system, our school has received a generous gift. This summer, we will be closing down the TJ Elementary School Library in order to perform some much-needed renovations and an expansion. This is only a small part of the donation, which you’ll be hearing more about in an official communication from the school board. All thanks to Mr. Zach Hubler, who has asked to say a few words today.” She stepped away from the podium. “Mr. Hubler.”

  Carefully, Zach took the two steps to the podium, where he slid one hand over the wood to the mike. He leaned forward. “Th—” He cleared his throat and started over. He was shaking—I could see it from here—and I wanted him to stop. You don’t have to do this! I wanted to scream. Instead, I waited, breath held.

  “Thank you, Principal Walker.”

  His voice, oh God I’d missed that voice, a little gravelly and low, but also calming, despite the nerves he must have, being in front of an audience. When he talked, it settled me. I closed my eyes and wished us away from the crowd.

  “I won’t take up much of your time.” He swallowed and I could see how nervous he was. I wanted to hold him. “I’m here pr-primarily for the sake of one of your teachers—a woman who happens to be on our ci
ty council and who also happens to be the love of my life.”

  A wave of sound rose up, whispers swelling into chattering, faces turned to find me in the crowd. I fought an urge to sink to my knees and hide amongst the four-year-olds, but if he was here, daring to come out for me, then I could stay here and take it.

  “Veronica Cruz has taught me so much.”

  I gulped at the double meaning to those words, glanced around and, thankfully, didn’t see anyone leering. They couldn’t possibly know how we’d spent our nights together.

  “She taught me the importance of honesty, the importance of facing your biggest fears, and, above all, the importance of doing what’s right, even when it isn’t easy. Even if it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do.”

  It occurred to me that he couldn’t possibly know if I was here. Maybe, if I told him I was, he’d stop and we could talk this out in private. It could turn out okay. I’d forgive him.

  “Today, I’m here to dedicate the new library to Ms. Veronica Cruz. I’m well aware that she would hate to have her name on a plaque beside the door, so I’ll let the city or the school board or whomever decide what name to use in the end. Hopefully you’re here, Veronica. If you are, I have something to say: I’ve left the old me behind. At least part of him—the part you had a hard time with. But I can’t seem to move forward without you in my life. I’d ask you to marry me, but I’m pretty sure you’d tell me it’s premature.”

  The voices got louder at that and I went from blushing to a cold sweat. What are you doing, Zach?

  “I’ll ask you this instead.” He went on and I could do nothing but stare at him, my eyes big, unblinking, my face hot and dry, my chest so tight I couldn’t suck in a breath. “Would you go out with me? On a date? Dinner or a movie or whatever you want.”

  He waited, the crowd quieted, except for a couple kids, and they all turned to look at me. Damn it. Was he seriously doing this? Was he really asking me out, here, in front of all these people?

  No, Zach. Please don’t do this.

 

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