The Billionaire's Girl

by Bella Fontaine

  Jesus Christ. I couldn’t believe it.

  No way could he believe that. No way. He’d just glossed over all the valid points I’d raised in my arguments and landed on ridiculous.

  “Dad, think about what you just said and tell me if that makes sense.”

  “I know what you are like when it comes to women. What infuriates me is your willingness to disrupt plans here so effortlessly.”

  “No, and none of that is true, including how I am with women.”

  “Chad, fucking fix this and let’s move forward with our arrangements for the project.”

  “I will fix things, but by my records, I still have two weeks left to give you an answer.”

  His nostrils flared.

  I’d had enough. I had to go see Billie, and I didn’t care what the hell the press thought or who was watching. I had to see if she was okay.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  I stood up and balled my fist. “Dad, there’s something off about the project. Something doesn’t add up.”

  His eyes… they filled with what looked like recognition. As if he’d already considered the possibility.

  I would never assume though, because he was just as bad as Patrick.

  “Everything is fine. Things were just delivered the wrong way.”

  “Exactly. We’re not in the business of delivering things the wrong way. But you can’t see straight. You can’t see for shit because it was Patrick’s idea, and he’s perfect, right? In your eyes, he’s perfect. He’s not me.”

  I looked him up and down and didn’t wait for an answer I knew I wasn’t going to get. I left and stopped abruptly in the corridor when I heard my name being called.

  Patrick.

  Again, he was waiting for me.

  “So, this was always about pussy?” he accused.

  I whirled around to face him. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” I marched right up to him and squared off with him.

  We were both over six feet. But he had an inch on me. He was six four, and I was six three. I had solid muscle though, and I took care of myself. If it came to it, I’d win a fight.

  “You heard me. This delay tactic of yours was always about fresh puss—”

  He didn’t get to finish. I wouldn’t stand for him talking about Billie that way. I landed a punch straight in his face and sent him reeling backwards.

  He must not have thought I would do something like that because shock washed over his face, and blood spurted from his nose. Then his eyes blazed with anger, and he rushed me.

  I landed an upper cut under his chin, but he didn’t go back like before. He moved forward, throwing himself on me, and we tumbled to the ground. I hurt my back, and he managed to get a punch in to my cheek, but that was all I allowed.

  This fight was a long time coming. It was fueled by years of angst on my part, and I guess for him too, because he hated me.

  I flipped him over, and that was when I gave it to him, landing punch after punch in his face. I lost it, lost control. It was only when I felt someone pulling me backwards that my awareness returned.

  “Chad!” It was Maurice. He pulled me off Patrick, who’d managed to sit up with his bloody face.

  Dad had come out of the office, and a few of the staff had come to see what was going on.

  “Chad, go home and fucking cool off,” Dad balked. He looked livid and completely appalled, and of course he went right to Patrick’s side.

  “Come on, bro,” Maurice offered, helping me stand.

  He went to say something, but I shook my head, stopping him. He couldn’t help me, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now who wasn’t Billie.

  I left and went straight to the Chronicle building. People started staring at me before I even stepped inside the building. They continued to do it as I proceeded up to the floor Billie’s office was on and as I asked the receptionist where I could find her.

  But I didn’t care.

  I didn’t care what they thought or what they thought they knew depending on which paper they’d read this morning.

  I got directions to Billie’s office, but I found her in a lounge area with weirdly designed sofas.

  Someone must have been going for a quirky look. I just happened to see her, and my heart broke when I saw her crying.

  I rushed up to her and bent down to take her hands. Shock registered on her beautiful face when she saw it was me. Shock and surprise.

  “Chad, what are you doing here? And why do you look like you’ve been in a fight?”

  “Forget about how I look. You’re not wrong, but that’s a story for another time. You okay?”

  She shook her head and went to touch my face but pulled back. It was the pulling back that gripped me.

  “Billie, I know the papers made me out to look like some billionaire playboy, but I’m not. I’m not like that. Maybe I was as money focused as the rest of my family because I literally did what I was told, but you changed that. You changed me.” She had, and I didn’t realize it until today.

  I would normally follow orders in my pursuit to be part of the fold. No way would I have ever defied a plan of this level and delay a multi-billion-dollar project before.

  It was her. Only she could change me, and that change made me see that something was off-key.

  “That’s the part you’re worried about? That I think you’re a playboy?”

  “Yes. I don’t want you to think that. I don’t want you thinking it was some game.” I frowned when I remembered how I’d executed this stupid plan of mine. “Okay, scratch that. Yes, there was a game, but it was our game. It was the only way I thought I could get to see you. And it was real. We’re real. Look at us all worked up on our anniversary.” I tried for lighthearted, but I knew from the look in those beautiful eyes I loved so much that my charm wouldn’t work today.

  When a tear ran down her cheek, I knew there was more.

  “It was real for me too. But… my boss thinks the publicity stunt story is true. She thinks it was an attempt for me to get a raise and…”

  I gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “It’s not true though. I’ll go in and tell her it’s not true.”

  “No, please don’t. The fact that you’re here is bad enough.” She looked freaked out and pulled her hands away from mine to wipe her face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s told me to stop seeing you. It’s bad for the paper and makes us look bad.”

  That anger I’d felt back at Arnauds raged again. “Sweetheart, she can’t tell you that.”

  “Yes, she can. If I want to keep my job here, she can say what the hell ever she wants, and I have to listen.”

  “Then you’re better than this place. That is bullshit, Billie. It’s all fucking shit. No one has any right to tell you whom you can and can’t date. It’s blackmail.”

  “Better?” she spoke more to herself than me. “I’m so sick of people telling me that when I’m doing my best. If I could do better, I would do better. But I can’t. And now my mother needs me more than ever.”

  “Billie, I will give you whatever you want. Tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of you and your mom.” I meant it. I could have said that before, but I didn’t want her to think I was some pompous prick who threw money at problems to make them go away.

  Looking at her now, I could see that was exactly what she thought.

  “No.” She shook her head, and the ends of her ponytail bobbled. “That’s not how this works. I don’t care about your money or want you to help me like that. Chad, we’ve known each other for exactly one week. What kind of woman would I be if I accepted help like that?”

  “So, you would rather choose your job?”

  “I have to. I need it. I need it… I…”

  So, this was it. The decision was made, and she chose her job.

  I looked her over in disbelief.

  More tears ran down her cheeks, and I was stumped on what to say to her.

  This was it.


  Accepting defeat, I leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

  Nothing more was said. No goodbyes, not anything, and truthfully, I was glad because it would have hurt me more.

  I just left.

  I seemed to be wandering around like an aimless fool today.

  I went to the sports bar and played some pool, then I headed back to Arnauds to get some files for the project.

  I decided I was going to work from home for the rest of the week. I couldn’t be here. Not here in the same building with Patrick.

  I’d look over stuff, get Maurice to continue snooping, and come back fresh on Monday with hopefully new info.

  I walked through the park area at the back to avoid the reporters I saw, who gathered at the front of the door. I’d spotted the truck before I parked, so I’d parked on the back streets. The last thing I needed was to end up hitting someone else today. God knew I could do with it. Working off some of my frustration, even if it was wrong.

  I turned the corner by the fish pond when I caught sight of Patrick.

  Patrick and some guy.

  It was the guy who grabbed my attention and gave me that bad feeling.

  I stopped and stayed behind the hedge, peering out through the thicket in the middle.

  The man wore a well-tailored suit but looked like the kind of person you’d see in a mafia film. He had strong Italian features and a tattoo on his neck. An ankh.

  I’d seen him before, but where?

  Where had I seen this guy?

  Was it with Patrick?

  I thought long and hard and came up blank.

  He raised his voice and backhanded Patrick. I didn’t hear what he said though. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, and Patrick looked like he was about to shit himself.

  Was that guy S?

  I watched as the man walked away in the opposite direction and Patrick put his hand to his head.

  He looked worried.

  There were many things I’d seen on my brother’s face, but worry wasn’t one of them.

  What the hell are you up to, Patrick?

  And who was that guy?

  Chapter 13

  Billie

  My mother had always been like an angel.

  The kind that comforted instead of raining down her thoughts of what she may believe. She was the listening ear, the listening ear I needed right now.

  Zoila took care of me and even offered to sort out the outstanding admin so I could leave early.

  She was furious when I told her what happened.

  However, who was more furious was Mom. Just not at me. She was angry that Miranda had such control over me and thought to exert it like she owned me.

  Mom sat next to me on the sofa. We were in the sitting room, and it was ironic that I was curled up in her lap just the way I used to when I had a problem.

  This room had seen me like that many times. Not lately because I’d tried to be strong, but this was one more time to add to the list of my woes.

  Mom stroked my hair and started plaiting the ends.

  I missed her taking care of my hair. For me, it had always been soothing. It soothed me now. It was down to her wonderous organic hair care regimes why I had such long beautiful hair. She did too.

  Her favorite saying was More products from the earth and minimal chemicals give a girl hair like a goddess.

  She was right. I had to admit that her regime worked. Mom used stuff like coconut oils, shea butter products, and essential oils to open the pores, and the only chemicals she used were a relaxer three times maximum for the year. And of course, she had to find a stylist who specialized in using the same sort of products.

  It was hard work, but I followed her way to this day.

  “You haven’t said anything for over an hour,” Mom pointed out.

  I didn’t even realize I could be silent for that long. I straightened up and smiled when I saw the fish tail braid she’d given me. To date, I had never been successful in doing that for myself.

  “I’m going to ask you to do this for me on a weekly basis.” I giggled.

  Laughing felt odd, like I shouldn’t be doing it.

  She smiled at me and cupped my face.

  “You can come here anytime, and I’ll do it for you. Billie, I’m worried about you. This whole thing doesn’t sit well with me.”

  I sighed.

  It didn’t sit well because it was all wrong. I couldn’t get Chad out of my mind. The disappointment and hurt that had been all over his face hurt me, and I was the instigator of it.

  Right now, it felt like everything I did was wrong, but that was the worst. Telling him I couldn’t see him because I needed to keep my job.

  But what could I do?

  “How come you weren’t mad at me when you found out I was seeing Chad Arnaud?”

  Mom laughed. “Sweet girl, I think I was kind of more surprised that you didn’t tell me. You usually tell me these things.”

  I did. Mom and I were more like sisters or best friends when it came to talk about men. She’d never been the kind of mother to chastise me or stop me from dating when I was younger.

  “I’m sorry. It just happened so fast. Before I knew it, I got caught up in…”

  “Him?” Mom smiled.

  “Yeah.”

  This was how we were.

  It was a relationship of trust. She trusted me and trusted that I knew what I was doing and that who I was with was decent enough. Sometimes, when I looked back, I wondered how it was she could have been so trusting. Then I realized it was her way. Her way of parenting, and it worked for me.

  I didn’t end up pregnant at sixteen or dropping out of school like some of my friends who had control freak moms.

  I might not have the best job in the world, but I had accomplishments I was proud of. A degree from Brown was good, no matter the classification. Even if I placed a substantial weight on my academics not quite meeting the mark I would have liked.

  “Talk to me. So, it looks like a juicy piece of gossip. Imagine if this was on something like The Real Housewives.” She laughed.

  God, I found myself laughing too.

  “Tell me what happened,” she added. “And how you ended up being caught up in a man you’ve only known for a week.”

  I told her, and she hung on to every word. I told her everything but of course left out the wild weekend of sex part. We might talk about men, but sex stories were Zoila’s department.

  When I was finished, she stared at me and sighed.

  “So, this is the guy you don’t want to see? He sounds pretty amazing to me. He also gets a bonus for wanting to help the community in whatever way he can.”

  “I want to see him, but Mom, how can I? I need this job.”

  “Sweet girl, think about what you’re saying.”

  “I did. I need to be able to take care of you. In a few months, you’ll have to leave here. I can’t even leave the Chronicle and come back here because there’ll be no home to come back to. One of us has to work.”

  “How about this? You leave indeed. I don’t want you working for a place that thinks they own you. Miranda was out of line. Completely out of line to give you such an ultimatum.”

  “Then what do I do? How do I take care of you?”

  “You stop worrying about me and allow me to take care of you.” She stroked my face. “I don’t have much, but I have enough that we could rent somewhere together if need be. And I have a job. I can go full time or do more shifts. Lord knows they always need people at the hospital. I can do that, and it will give you time to get back on your feet.”

  I was shaking my head before she could even finish. Mom could barely do the work she had now. I couldn’t allow her to take on more.

  “No, I can’t let you do that.”

  “Billie, bottom line is, you are better than the Chronicle. You just need to see that for yourself and stop holding yourself back. Look what you did today. As grateful as I am for you thinking about taking care of me, you chose you
r job over a man you clearly love.”

  Love…

  My heart squeezed. Love.

  Was that it? How could I?

  We just met and …

  She took my hands and gave me a gentle squeeze.

  “Your father and I met at a friend’s party. I loved him at first sight. No length of time was needed to confirm what I already knew. And…”—her eyes sparkled with mischief—“to the world we got married a year and a half later, after supposedly dating, then being engaged that whole time.”

  “What do you mean supposedly?”

  She shrugged. “Billie, the truth is, we got engaged two weeks after we met. We just styled it out, so it looked more reasonable to everyone else. And look, we were married for thirty-five years, and in my book still counting.”

  “My God, you never told me that.”

  “I’m telling you now. Reason being so you go with what your heart tells you, and not what you think you should follow.”

  I understood, and felt awful. I felt worse than I did even seconds ago.

  Now, my heart hid away in disgust at my actions.

  I chose my job and made it clear that that was what I was doing.

  Making it clear that I wouldn’t chose Chad.

  God.

  A week had passed since that awful day.

  A whole week.

  I’d taken the coward’s way out by getting lost in my thoughts and staying in that bubble of despair where nothing made sense.

  It was a stupor of thought and a combo of nothingness made worse by the stories Miranda sent my way.

  I was currently writing a piece on the new pet shop that had just opened on Main.

  My next story lined up was on detergent and the coupons available to get the best deals in the supermarket.

  It was when Miranda handed me that last piece that I started looking for another job.

  I took the plunge and focused on that because that was the only thing I knew how to do right now.

  I couldn’t do anything else.

  I started with a few of the smaller papers, but they didn’t have any openings. I applied at the Gazette and was waiting to hear back. That was one of the top-ten papers in Illinois. No way was I going to apply to The Times like I’d originally wanted because I doubted there was a chance of me getting in. They’d most likely want to get a story from me, and I wasn’t like that, or in the habit of selling stories.