Billionaire: Billionaire Boss Romance: What the Boss Wants, He Gets (Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Boss Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Older Man Romance)

by Tia Siren

  “What am I going to do?” She whispered in a panic. “Oh, what am I going to do?”

  She picked up the candle and went back to the stairwell in a hurry. She was going to go through as many rooms as she could tonight. But what if it was hanging in her parents’ room? How would she even know?

  She hurried through the hallways, stopping at each portrait long enough to lift the candle and take a good look. After an hour, she had still not seen the painting, and there were many other rooms left to go through. She tried not to cry. She wanted to go home. She missed her grandmother.

  She had no choice. She went back to her room, collapsed on the big bed and cried herself back to sleep.

  She had a lot of trouble getting dressed the next morning. She had no idea what type of dress was meant for a ball and what was meant for casual day to day. She finally chose a small gown that she thought had to be for every day. She dressed and hoped she had chosen correctly. The dress that had gotten her into all the trouble lay safe over the back of the chair that still held the sweater. She used Helen’s brush for her hair, pulling it back and away from her face with barrettes. She only blotted her face with a bit of powder and put a small amount of color on her lips. She’d never worn much makeup in the first place, happy with the way she looked naturally.

  She could smell coffee floating through the air, which surprised her, considering how big the place was. She went through the hallway, following her nose to find the kitchen. When she went in, the cook stared at her as if she was completely out of her mind. She smiled weakly.

  “H…Hello.”

  “Can I help you, lady Helen? Did you not receive the breakfast you wanted this morning?” The older woman looked at her sympathetically.

  “Um… no… I just… wanted to see how you were doing. How have you been?”

  The cook blinked at her, her face revealing her confusion. “I’m well, madam. I hope that you were able to sleep.”

  “Yes, I…I certainly did. I… am famished so I will just… get going now.” She grinned and backed out the way she’d come in.

  She berated herself for going into the kitchen without thinking that it would not be where this family would eat. There was a great dining hall across from the vast living room. She pulled open the double doors and slipped through, pulling them closed behind her. Her father was seated at the head of a long table, holding a newspaper in front of him while he ate from a plate of eggs, biscuits and bacon strips.

  She eyed the bacon hungrily. It had been a very long time since she’d eaten. She felt like it had been days. She hurried to the seat on his right and sat down. He gazed at her.

  “You are still feeling happier?” He asked.

  “I am, papa.”

  “That’s wonderful. Have you chosen to change your seat then? You will sit next to me now?”

  She moved her eyes down the table and saw that a plate had been set in front of a seat further down the table. She looked back at him. “I don’t want to sit far away from you, papa.”

  He gestured to one of the girls standing on the other side of the room. She came over to him, holding her hands clasped in front of her.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Bring Helen’s plate and utensils down here, Anna. She will sit here from now on.”

  Anna grinned wide at Eve. “I’m so glad. Would you like me to take your plate and get your breakfast for you, madam?”

  “Yes, please.” Eve nodded. “And may I please have a few extra pieces of bacon?”

  Anna’s eyes widened. “More than usual, madam?”

  Eve hesitated. It sounded like that might be quite a lot of bacon from the tone of Anna’s voice. She nodded. No matter how much bacon came on her plate, she felt strongly she would eat it.

  When Anna left, she turned back to her father. “Papa, do you have a painting of me with the dress that I was wearing last night to the ball?”

  Mr. Downing put the paper down and looked at her, lifting a large glass of water and taking a sip. “I don’t believe so, Helen.”

  “Will you commission one to be painted for me? I love that dress, and I never ever want to forget it.”

  “I would be happy to do that.” He smiled with that warm smile again, and she loved him for it. She could see some resemblance to her own father, though the hundred plus years between them had made many changes to the family appearance. She was amazed she looked so much like her ancestor that it fooled them all into thinking she was her.

  But it was time to return home. And she couldn’t do that without the painting.

  “How long do you think it will take for the painting to be complete?”

  “That depends on the artist, dear. And are you in a hurry? Is this going to be…some kind of gift?” He was teasing her.

  She grinned. “Yes, it’s for your birthday. It’s going to be a surprise!”

  He laughed. “Not now, it isn’t.”

  “That’s okay. It was a surprise when I just told you!”

  They laughed together.

  The first time she saw the painter her father had chosen, whose name was Eric Anthony, she was enthralled with him. He was not like the men at the ball or even the men in her Jane Austin novels. He seemed so down to earth, almost as though he had come from a more relaxed period in time, like she did. He shied away from pomp and circumstance.

  She admired his looks, as well as his calm and relaxed demeanor. He was tall, with short brown hair and a trim beard and mustache. When he saw her in her green dress, his face lit up.

  “Good morning, Lady Helen,” he said when he entered the room, his hands full with an easel, a bag filled with paints and brushes, a paint palate and an untouched canvas. She rushed to him, holding out her hands.

  “May I carry something for you, Sir Anthony?” She offered.

  He took a step back at first, gazing at her in wonder. Then he held out the hand holding the canvas. “You could take this canvas before it falls from my fingers, if you’d like.”

  “Certainly.” She took the canvas and followed him to the area he was using to paint. He took it from her without a word after he set up the easel. He was still giving her a strange look. She just smiled at him.

  “You may go over there and stand while I paint. Do you have a tall stool to sit on or will you be standing for this portrait?”

  “I will stand.”

  “This could take some time. Several weeks, in fact.”

  Her heart thumped, and she held in a gasp. “Several weeks?”

  “Yes, my lady. I hope that is not going to inconvenience you.”

  “Can we put a rush on it?”

  “Put a rush on it?” He repeated. It was a strange phrase he hadn’t heard before.

  “Can we hurry with it?” She regretted her use of modern terms. She wasn’t talking like Helen did, that much was for sure. She was glad they were both from Virginia so that her accent would be much the same.

  “Yes, madam, if you would like to. I can try to hurry. Put a rush on it.” He grinned slightly, enjoying the new phrase. “However, if you want quality work, it will take at least five sessions.”

  She sighed. “All right. You may do whatever suits you, Sir Anthony.”

  “Please call me Eric.”

  “All right, Eric.”

  “Stand here.” He came over to her and adjusted her as if she was a mannequin, being careful not to touch her too frequently and cautious about where he put his hands.

  For the next few hours, she stood listening to him. Whenever she wanted to speak, he would shush her abruptly. “You must not move!” He would say in a firm voice. She resisted grinning whenever he said it, mostly because he had usually just asked a question and she was trying to answer.

  “How am I supposed to answer your question if you keep yelling at me not to move?” She asked at one point.

  “I guess you will not be able to answer my questions then.” He looked around the canvas at her to see if she could tell he was joking with her. She could
see it and it warmed her heart. He talked to her about his family, how they had immigrated from France originally but that he had no ties to the country and couldn’t speak the language. She found out he was born and raised here in Virginia, he had two sisters and a brother, whom he adored and that his favorite animal was the horse.

  “Such majestic creatures they are, you know,” he said. “They have minds of their own. They will do what they want to do whenever they want to do it. They are free spirits, roaming the mountains around us.”

  “I agree.”

  “Do you?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “You mustn’t move.” This time, he said it very gently.

  Five days later, after hours of standing for the portrait, Eve was relieved to hear he was finished.

  “Come and take a look,” he said, standing back. “I hope for your approval.”

  When she moved around to see the front of the painting, she felt a wave of emotion. It was exactly as she remembered. She would surely be able to get back now.

  The problem was that she had come to think of this as her home, this time as her own. There had been no more dances or balls, only standing for the portrait being created with strong hands by a handsome man she had come to adore. His voice was deep and gentle. His words were always encouraging and positive. He held an outlook on life that matched hers, in a way, at least, how she felt when she wasn’t constantly being questioned by a negative, angry man.

  “Do you approve?” He asked in a gentle voice.

  She looked at him and then back at the painting. “I do.” She breathed.

  “I am happy to hear that. Will you be giving it to your father for his birthday?”

  She wondered how he knew about that little joke she had shared with her father earlier that week. She laughed softly. “It was never really intended for that but…I might.”

  She had been waiting so long for the portrait. But in the meantime, she had fallen in love. The look in Eric’s eyes when she looked at him made her feel as if perhaps the feeling was mutual. She wasn’t sure she could leave now.

  “How…did you know I was thinking of giving it to him?” She asked.

  He lifted one hand and brushed a lock of her hair back from her cheek. The slight touch sent chills over Eve’s body.

  “I talked with him this morning before coming in to finish the portrait.”

  “Oh?” She gazed at him, biting her lower lip.

  “Yes. I…I also asked him a very important question.”

  She felt her heart thumping when she gazed up at him. She wanted to grab him and plant a huge kiss on his soft-looking lips. But she couldn’t do that. How inappropriate would that be!

  “I asked him for your hand in marriage, Helen.”

  She almost fainted but held her own. “Oh?” The question came out shaky. She cleared her throat.

  “Would you like to go for a walk with me sometime? Perhaps we could get to know each other better before taking a step that large?”

  “What did my father say?”

  Eric smiled. “He gave his approval.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. She was supposed to go home. She thought about her grandmother.

  When she looked back up at Eric, she knew what her decision would be.

  “Will I be able to talk on this walk?” She asked.

  He laughed. “You will be able to talk all you like, my lady.”

  “Then yes. I will stay with you.”

  “Stay?” He tilted his head.

  “Yes. A walk would be lovely. So very lovely.”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “That makes me very happy.”

  She could only smile at him. She was about to change her family’s history books.

  *****

  THE END

  A BWWM Sports Romance - A Dangerous Game

  “He’s lookin’ a bit rough today, Angie,” I heard Jim saying behind me.

  “Everyone has their off-days, Jim,” I replied.

  “It seems it’s been more of an off-season. The kid threw three interceptions this game alone. If he keeps this up, he won’t be on the roster next season.”

  He was right; this was a rough situation that Jake got himself into. His numbers were really low, and it was going to set me into a difficult position for negotiating his contract for next season.

  Monica was here watching as well; I use the word watching very loosely because she preferred to spend her time nursing a glass of wine and talking to the other wives.

  She was quite gorgeous, slim-figured and tiny; just the way Jake seemed to like them. I never really cared, quite honestly. She was the kind of girl I avoided; easy to look at and hard to please. The only real conversation we had was about money, and how much her boyfriend was going to make her.

  They were talking so loud that I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of their conversation.

  “He’s making good money, are you going to make him put a ring on it?”

  Monica replied, “There’s only one sure way to get him to ask me, and I don’t know if I should talk to him about it, or just surprise him.”

  “You’re not thinking about having kids, already.”

  “I always wanted a family, and I don’t want to have to wait to start one. He’s taking his sweet time proposing. I thought maybe if I had a bun in the oven he might man up and ask.”

  “You’re terrible, Monica.”

  Monica giggled along with her friends. I couldn’t figure out how someone could talk about having kids in such a cavalier attitude.

  I tossed back the rest of the scotch in my glass and made for the bar nearby. This game was beginning to look like another loss, and I knew that my boss would probably be ready to yell at me on Monday, and I didn’t want to be sober for that.

  Monica gave me looks as I walked by, and I could feel the disgust coming from her friends as well. It seemed like they’d never seen a hard working black woman before; as though all they wanted me to do was bring them a serving tray.

  “Another Scotch, Angie?” asked Devlin, the barman.

  I nodded, and he poured me another.

  “You better make that a double, Devlin. It’s going to be a long night.”

  He added more caramel liquor to the glass while I reached for my wallet.

  “I think this one is on the house. Maybe it’s high time to start buying something to eat before you make yourself sick.”

  “Thanks, Dev. It’s going to be another one of those nights. Are you going to be working tonight, again? I can swing by and give you a hefty tip.”

  He smiled.

  “If you’re drinking then I know I won’t starve for the next month. I got a few rumors flying around, though.”

  “What have you heard, Dev,” I asked.

  He leaned over the bar to whisper.

  “Some of the players are planning a night out. A couple of ‘em just fired their agents, and might be on the market; If you come with a straight head, then you might just bag one.”

  I pulled out a large tip and shoved it into Devlin’s hand. He tipped his hat, and I returned to the game.

  There was almost no shock at all from me when I noticed that we were behind in the scoreboard. I plopped down in my chair and nursed my drink. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  2.

  I’m a classy dresser when I want to be, and for a night on the town, it was rare. If you’re going to be dropping it on the bedroom floor anyway, it’s best just to dress light and wear as little as possible.

  I didn’t have that intention tonight, but I still wanted to drink to forget Jake’s abysmal performance today. Devlin was right, though, it would be a great opportunity to cheer my boss up by signing a new client.

  Working with athletes and spending so much time around attractive people was an amazing inspiration to eat right and exercise regularly. The last thing you want to be is the ugly person in the corner trying to sign a new client.

&
nbsp; Still, no amount of exercise will cure genetics. And, as it was, I was stuck being curvier than most. I did enjoy the compliments from men that I slept with. They said I had nice breasts, not too big, not too small. But, I always thought my best feature was my legs, they were long and toned. To compliment my figure, I wore a long black gown that scooped low in the back and showed off my small amount of muscle.

  Upon arriving at the trendy little club I made sure to tip the bouncer well, he always let me in when I came by, now.

  You can get anything in life if you’re willing to spend the right amount of money. But, sometimes, a friendly smile is worth more. I walked towards the bar after I got in, and I could already see a couple of players that I recognized from today’s game. One of the players was celebrating victory over our local team with some women of the evening. I rolled my eyes at how easy some of these players were.

  “Devlin, I think I’ll have another drink. Send one over to that player with the girls as well, would you?”

  Devlin nodded and started pouring. Once the drink was delivered, it was easy enough to ingratiate myself into the group of women.

  I worked my subtle charms for about an hour before the player agreed to come in for a visit tomorrow before returning home. I handed him my card and got his number before buying his group another drink and walking off.

  I tend to get tunnel vision when I see something I want, and it becomes easy to trip over things you didn’t see coming. This thing happened to be a man. My drink slipped from my hands and covered his shirt in my third drink of the evening.

  “Oh, excuse me. I can get clumsy after a few drinks.”

  I could already see the bouncer looking at me, hoping that I wouldn’t make a scene.

  “It’s fine,” he said.

  I grabbed a nearby cocktail napkin and started doing my best to clean him off. He did the same. His shirt didn’t look cheaply made in the slightest, and I didn’t think that any amount of dry cleaning would take out the stain I’d just caused.

  “Angie?” he said.

  I looked up; it was Jake. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized him earlier.

  “Oh wow. Hi Jake,” I responded.