The Billionaire Affair

by Parker, Ali

  “Gone?” she asked, worry causing a line between her olive green eyes. “I’m assuming you called the police?”

  I was grateful she didn’t question me. Didn’t ask if I was sure or if I’d tried to find him. She knew me well enough to know I was and I had. “They’re on their way. I tried his father, but I haven’t had any luck yet. I’m going to try Neil next.”

  Neil had been Jack’s best friend. He was like the unofficial third Williams brother. If anyone would be able to get a hold of Jance fast, it was him. He would probably also want to help however he could. The fact that I preferred talking to him in much the same manner as one might’ve preferred hugging a fluffy teddy bear to sitting on cactus didn’t even matter.

  I would’ve spoken to Jance if I could’ve, but since I couldn’t get through to him, I was happy to call Neil instead. Thankfully, he was an early bird.

  In no time, he answered with a crisp “Neil Colman speaking.”

  “Neil?” My voice was shaky, thready. Tears still burned in my throat and made it hard to talk normally. “I need to speak with Mr. Williams, would you please give me his number?”

  I couldn’t stand still, resuming my pacing as I waited for his answer. Neil knew how Jance despised me. If I were him, I would’ve paused too. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Only Jance’s number,” I said. It didn’t feel right to tell Neil what was going on before Jeremiah’s father knew.

  Neil didn’t hesitate this time. He released a deep sigh, sounding regretful when he replied. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to call him right now. He’s still calming down over what happened the other day. Why do you need to get a hold of him?”

  Taking in a shaky breath, I ran my gaze along the damaged sides of Jeremiah’s Chiron—at least I thought that was what he had called it. Did it really matter who knew first? “Jeremiah came to pick me up for work this morning, but I’m outside my apartment building next to his abandoned car waiting for the police to arrive. The car looks like it’s been in an accident, and Jeremiah’s nowhere to be found.”

  Recounting the nutshell version of the story for the third time didn’t make it feel any more real. It felt like I was stuck in a terrible loop where I was being forced to say things that couldn’t possibly be true.

  I walked up to Jeremiah’s car again, tearing up when I saw the extent of the damage to the beautiful interior. Not because I felt anything about this car, but because Jeremiah had been so grateful when I suggested we didn’t eat the Greek sugar cookies I made a while ago in it. What would he say if he saw what it looked like now?

  It was then that I realized the airbags had gone off. Both the front and driver’s side door airbags were hanging, deflated against their housing. Another, fresh wave of tears threatened to rise. Airbags only went off if the car got hit really hard, didn’t they?

  “Stephanie?” I heard Neil’s voice as though he was talking to me through a plexiglass screen. It was there, but faint and unclear. “Are you still there?”

  I blinked back the tears and focused on Jeremiah’s friend. “I’m here. Sorry.”

  “I’m on my way to you.” I hadn’t noticed it before, but it sounded like he was running. I heard his footsteps slamming down, and his words were punctuated by his heavier breathing. “I should be there within twenty minutes, probably less. I’ll call Mr. Williams for you while I’m on my way. Hang in there, Steph.”

  “Hanging,” I said. “I’ll see you when you get here. Drive safe.”

  Hundreds of thousands of car accidents happened every day. People always said things like “your car is more dangerous than flying,” or quoting astronomically high road accident statistics as part of a car’s safety ratings. Despite all that, I’d never thought of driving as particularly dangerous.

  Now, I was nervous just knowing Neil had to get in his car right away to come here and that Tiana would be driving to work later. And I was still baffled and terrified because as far as I knew, car accident victims were usually present at the scene of the accident.

  Unlike Jeremiah.

  “I’ll be right there, Steph,” Neil said, once again reminding me he was on the phone. It was like my brain was a sieve this morning. Things kept leaking out.

  “Thanks,” I said, then hung up the phone. Turning away from Jeremiah’s car, I saw Tiana waving her hands above her head as the police rounded the corner. Dread and relief filled my heart simultaneously, and the uncomfortable mix made me nauseous.

  “Thank god they’re here,” I whispered, but then the dread part kicked in. Getting them here was one thing, what they would find now that they were here was something entirely different. And it scared the living daylights out of me.

  Chapter 48

  JEREMIAH

  What the fuck did I drink last night? I couldn’t remember when I’d ever woken up with my head pounding this badly. No, wait. Chili tequila.

  I groaned, wondering why I ever would’ve gone back to that stuff. I’d sworn it off years ago and hadn’t thought about it since. The way my head was feeling though, I must’ve given in.

  My eyes felt like they were glued shut, and my mouth tasted like metal, my teeth like the bodies of tiny furry animals. I wasn’t sure, but it felt like I was sitting up. Why did I go to sleep sitting up?

  Maybe Tanner or one of the other guys had propped me up. Thinking of Tanner triggered a mass of memories to come tumbling free. Dropping Steph off at home, talking to Tanner on the way back to mine. Him telling me to go for it and ask her to be my girlfriend. Going to bed, alone and without drinking.

  A cold chill skated down my back. It wasn’t chili tequila. This epic hangover was no hangover at all. My body ached like nobody’s business. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and then tried to open them again. When I did, I regretted it immediately. Sunlight was pouring in through dusty windows, each ray of it like a laser frying my brain.

  I winced, turning my head. Suddenly, I remembered doing a similar thing this morning. Or… a morning. On the way to Stephanie’s. I realized I had no idea when that had been. All I knew was when I did it, I looked to the left at the front bumper of a truck barreling toward me and slamming into me.

  I must’ve passed out after that, it was the only explanation. What it didn’t explain was why I felt like I was sitting up and sitting on something hard.

  I wondered if I had a concussion. It’d been a long time since my last one, but this sure felt like one. I was dizzy, my head swimming and leaving my lips feeling numb, buzzing. Nausea rolled in my stomach, twisting it and making me feel cold.

  Running through the quick mental check, I tried moving my limbs one by one. They were tight and didn’t have much range of movement, but it didn’t feel like any bones were broken. At least, none that I could tell.

  A sharp, pained intake of breath escaped my lips when I pried my eyes open again. Excruciating as it was, I needed to be able to see. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the dusty brightness of the room I was in.

  At first, all I could make out were spots and funny patterns in front of my eyes. Blurry colors and big lumps swam into my field of vision. It took a few minutes, but when my vision finally cleared up, I knew exactly where I was.

  I frowned. The bolt of recognition shooting through me made my head hurt even worse. Vague memories of slightly drunken images flashed in my brain. I was at the hotel Jannie and I had hooked up at. It was small and quaint, off the map. I recalled laying Jannie down on the four poster bed I was now sitting next to, remembered the way she clawed at my shoulders when I laid down on top of her.

  A shudder passed through me as the puzzle pieces started falling into place. I knew Jannie was having some issues, but I never realized she was this far gone.

  She fucking kidnapped me. I almost started laughing at how absurd that thought was. Out of all my travels, some of which were to some fucking dodgy ass countries, I never thought if I was going to be kidnapped it would be in my own damn city.


  Jack and I had one nanny growing up who had taken part in a child protection seminar once. In it, they were told what to do if your charge ever got kidnapped. They also gave them some child-friendly handy hints of what you should teach the children to do in the event that they were taken.

  Too fucking bad none of those handy hints would come in even remotely useful now. I always thought I would be able to sass or sweet talk my way out of any situation like this, but I was highly doubtful any sass or sweet talk would work on Jannie. I didn’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t likely she would just set me free if I made puppy eyes at her and said sorry.

  She had me strapped to a damn chair in the middle of a hotel room that didn’t look like it’d been cleaned since Jannie and I were last here three years ago. At least not by anyone who knew anything about dusting. Which was rich coming from me, given that I’d never dusted a thing in my life, but it was true.

  From what I could tell, I was alone. I couldn’t hear or see anyone else. The wide bay windows were closed, and the air was stuffy like the windows hadn’t been opened in a while.

  A layer of dust covered everything, from the windowsill to the bed to the armrests of the chair I was in. An old chair, there was a spring sticking into my ass, and its spindly arms were digging into my elbows. I scanned my surroundings, trying to see if there was anything useful lying around.

  One of the tips our nanny gave us was to see if we could find an object to use that might help us get free. In my case, there was nothing. A dusky pink bedspread covered the bed, hanging down all the way to the floor.

  Aside from the chair I was in, the bed, and the daybed by the bay window, there was little other furniture in the room. To my right was a small loveseat with an old, box-shaped television on top of an ancient cabinet and a wardrobe standing against the wall.

  Not badly appointed for a hotel, but absolutely nothing useful in sight. My eyes drifted over to the television. It was on, but the volume was turned down so low I could barely hear it.

  My own face suddenly appeared on the screen. I jerked my head back, squinting as I tried to read the pixelated ticker tape scrolling across the bottom. I strained to hear what the news anchor was saying, but I had a feeling it was no coincidence the television was set to this channel.

  Jannie left it on for me, so I could hear what was being said.

  The breaking news banner spun on the screen and stopped right above my picture. On the bottom of the screen, the words “breaking news” were printed in bold, capital letters. The anchor’s expression was solemn and serious when the camera cut to him.

  “The news has just broken that the son of billionaire Jance Williams, Jeremiah Williams has been kidnapped.” The man was staring straight into the lens. A montage of pictures of me started playing on the screen behind him. From when I was young, with Jack before his death, the few times I’d been photographed out since.

  The main picture they seemed to be using was one taken of me at the Belmont Stakes, the third leg of the Triple Crown, last year. Neil dragged me along. One of his business school buddies had bought a share in one of the horses in the race, and Neil convinced me to go with him.

  In the picture, my light gray suit was still dry, and I was laughing—presumably at something Neil said. The day started out innocently enough, but before I could stop it, we ended up at one of the other owner’s houses in the pool with his girlfriend. First fully clothed, then totally naked.

  Nothing happened, but I imagined if the story had ever broken no one would have believed that. The picture also didn’t show the line of tequila shots said girlfriend was pouring behind me or the fact that her hand repeatedly grazed my ass.

  My wildest days stopped after Jack’s death, but the road to recovery was a long one. You wouldn’t say so from the photo, but I was already tipsy by the time it was taken. I also might, or might not, have slept with said girlfriend a week or so after that when I ran into her at a party while her tech millionaire boyfriend was out of the country.

  Shame seeped into my bloodstream, carrying the feeling to my slightly numbed extremities. I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be a better man, but it didn’t happen overnight. I knew it would take eventually, but I hadn’t realized how much work it would require.

  Being the player, the bad boy, the asshole was a lot easier and a lot more familiar than keeping my nose clean, working at Williams Inc. twenty-four seven and avoiding instead of just not caring about the press. I’d been doing mostly okay at it for at least a year or so, but it wasn’t until I met Stephanie that I felt I might really have a chance at getting it right.

  A reason for getting it right.

  My heart lurched when I saw her come on the screen. She was dressed in a funky, brightly colored dress that I would’ve ripped off the second we got to the office for the way it hugged her voluptuous figure.

  Aside from the dress though, I could see there was nothing bright or joyful about her. She had tears glistening in her eyes and was so pale it was like she’d never been out in the sunlight. Though she was in the background to the anchor’s reporting, it was clear as day to me that she was shaking. Badly.

  The protective dragon I’d discovered in my chest only when it came to her reared its head and started snapping wildly. My arms bunched as I fought against my restraints. I wanted to go to her, to comfort her and tell her I was okay.

  But I couldn’t get free. The only thing I could do was listen as the tall, tanned anchor read what sounded like the introduction of the Wikipedia page about me before he continued delivering the story.

  “Mr. Williams, en route to his office early this morning, stopped to pick up his secretary when his vehicle was damaged in a collision. The billionaire disappeared from the scene and hasn’t been seen or heard from since, leading the police to conclude that he has been kidnapped.”

  The anchor kept blabbing on, but I tuned him out. The most important thing I learned from the report was that it was still Tuesday. Which meant I couldn’t have been out for more than a couple of hours. It was a relief knowing it was still the same day.

  I shook some of the cobwebs out of my head, staring at the anchor standing outside Stephanie’s apartment. It was surreal, watching a news crew reporting on my disappearance from the same spot I’d been waiting for my girl only hours before. Seeing my car wrecked with police all around it.

  An ache started in the center of my being as I watched Stephanie moving around in the background. It grew to a hollow pounding in my chest and left me feeling bereft. This was all so wrong.

  I should’ve been there with her. We should both have been at work by now, hopefully after having a talk in the car about our future together.

  It was so surreal I couldn’t help but laugh. The whole thing was almost amusing. Almost. My cheeks felt tight from being raised by my lips in my incredulous laugh. Everything felt wrong.

  As if the sound that escaped from my mouth had spurred her into action, I heard a door down the hall open and close. It clicked shut softly, but firmly. The next sound had me shutting down all thoughts of Stephanie and how absurd the situation was.

  It was go-time now. Time to get serious. If I was going to have any chance of getting out of here, I was going to have to figure out Jannie’s game and how to beat her at it. I sat up as straight as I could and listened as I heard her high heels clicking down the hall, closer and closer to the room.

  Chapter 49

  STEPHANIE

  News crews started arriving just minutes after the police did. I should’ve been expecting it, but somehow, I hadn’t. If there was ever a time to respect a person and not make it into a drama for public consumption, wasn’t this it?

  A man was missing, for fuck’s sake. A good man. A man who deserved the entire city out looking for him tirelessly, devastated by his loss.

  The media who were reporting weren’t calling for people to go out and find him. They weren’t even asking for help from the public. I drifted past one coiffed woman
who was reading facts about Jeremiah off a prompter, including who he had dated and his antics in the past.

  When I heard her talking about some prank he and Tanner pulled in Times Square on a well-known socialite’s twenty-first birthday, I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck and strangle her. Why was she digging all this up? It wasn’t going to help us find him.

  The police had busily set up traffic cone looking things when they arrived and cordoned off the area with that and some tape, but they didn’t seem too concerned about the media filming their every move so long as they didn’t push the boundaries.

  “Miss Donavan, are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit down?” the officer who was trying to interview me asked. We were standing on the sidewalk. He was holding a notepad, his colleagues buzzing like bees around Jeremiah’s car.

  I shook my head. The same answer I’d given the kind Officer Harrison at least four times since he started talking to me. “I’m fine. Sorry. I just can’t believe this is happening.”

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “We’re going to do everything in our power to find him.”

  “Thank you.” I shifted on my feet, turning my back squarely to the reporters when I noticed a camera swing my way. “As I was saying, Jannie was Jeremiah’s secretary before me.”

  “You mentioned you had reason to believe she was behind this. Why would you think that?” Alert gray eyes on mine, he watched me carefully as I formulated my answer.

  Officer Harrison was one of the good guys, I could tell. I could also tell he didn’t entirely trust me. When they got to the scene, he was the first out of the car and went straight to Tiana who was waving her arms about her head to grab their attention.

  She told him I was the one who called 9-1-1 and he marched over to me. He asked a few questions, then went off to survey the damage to Jeremiah’s car—after he told me to stay put.