Indebted: Part 1: The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire (A BWWM Billionaire Romance)

by Sadie Black

  “That’s what I don’t want to find out.”

  “I’ll tell you what will happen. You might have a good time, or at least a great story of a night I’m sure you’ll remember for the rest of your life. I need you to go, so you can tell me all the amazing details. I mean, aren’t you curious?”

  I sigh deeply and run my finger over the balled up napkin in my apron, considering the idea. It would be fun to go out for a night and maybe he is just interested in me for some reason. My research paper! There’s no way I can go out with him, or anyone else for that matter, when I have so much to get done.

  “There’s just no way, I’m too busy. Here, why don’t you call him?” I thrust the ratty napkin back into her hand. “I’m sure you two would be a better match.”

  Brianna sighs, scrunching her nose into a spiderweb of fine lines, but she holds her tongue. She knows all too well how stubborn I am, it comes with the territory of being my closest friend since high school.

  I glance at the clock and am relieved that I have an excuse to get out of this conversation and this diner after this painfully long shift. “It’s time to punch out, I’ve gotta get home and finish my research paper, but let’s get together for a coffee soon, ok?”

  “Sure, give me a call… when you’re not too busy,” she says with an edge in her voice. I don’t know why she’s so focused on me going out with this guy. Can’t she just accept that we have different priorities?

  “Will do.” I smile at her, ignoring the harshness of her tone.

  When I get off the bus and trudge up to my shoebox apartment, I wish with every fiber of my existence that my roommate isn’t home. I’m so tired, and the last thing I need is her endless soap opera of cell phone calls with her long distance boyfriend when I need to concentrate. I open the door and trip over a pair of her leather thigh high boots that she left in the hall, almost eating the floor.

  “Jesus! Janelle! Why do you have to leave your shit everywhere? I nearly broke my neck!”

  I listen to our fridge hum in response. I’m all alone, after all. Perfect.

  I’m finally making some real headway on my paper, after putting in four hours of straight work, I think I can get it finished before bed if I push it. I sink my teeth into the pb&j I’m calling supper and the phone rings.

  “Heh-woah?” I try swallowing the sticky peanut butter that’s coating the roof of my mouth.

  “Uh, yes, may I speak with Kendra Cole, please?”

  I don’t recognize his voice, maybe it’s one of the marketing firms I’ve applied to! I clear my throat and attempt to sound professional. “Yes, this is she.” I cringe. This is she? Why am I talking in third person?

  The line is silent. I check the phone. Is this call still connected? The timer is still counting. “Hello?”

  “Yes, I’m still here. I apologize if this is a bit unorthodox, but this is Matthew Blackwell. I left you a note at the diner today? I was wearing a gray suit?”

  He sounds like he isn’t sure if I’ll remember him from all the other overdressed patrons. “Yes, I remember you. How did you get this number?” I knew there was something strange about him asking me out, now he’s tracking me down?

  “Brianna just called me and told me that you forgot the napkin and that I should call you. Is this a bad time?”

  I should have thrown out that stupid napkin. Why is she pushing this so hard? Now this is so awkward, I rub the back of my neck and rummage my mind for a polite way to let him know there’s been some kind of mistake.

  “I’m not interested in going on a date, Mr. Blackwell, she shouldn’t have called you.” So much for tact.

  “Well then, let’s not call it a date. How about we have a meeting of the minds over some delicious food?” He doesn’t sound the least bit phased by my rejection, just steamrolling forward.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to finish some important work for my masters program. I couldn’t possibly find the time for a ‘meeting of the minds’.” I try not to choke on the pretentious sounding statement.

  “What is your degree in?” He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.

  “Business.”

  “Business, hmmm, don’t they tell you that contacts and networking are an important part of the job? I’ll tell you what, I have a fundraiser that’s will be a real who’s who in the business world. You’d be missing the opportunity of a lifetime if you didn’t go.” I’m not sure if he’s talking about him or the contacts.

  He’s zoned in on my weakness. Of course, I’m interested in making contacts. I’m eager to get my feet wet in a real career, but at what cost? What is he expecting out of this date? And why is he so insistent? I rub my forehead, trying to make a decision, the right decision.

  “Ok,” I finally answer him.

  “Wonderful! How does tomorrow evening work for you?”

  Tomorrow! How am I supposed to get ready for a fancy charity event with no notice? “Yes, that will work,” I squeak, not sure how I’ll find anything to wear. “Where should I meet you?”

  He chuckles dryly, “There won’t be any need to meet me. I’ll have my driver pick you up at say five o’clock?”

  I hesitate again, do I really want him to have my address? In for a penny, in for a pound I guess. “Sure, do you want to write down my address?”

  “No need.” I can hear the smile in his voice.“Brianna already gave it to me.”

  Of course she did.

  Chapter 2: The Dress

  “Why did I say yes? Why did you call him? What the hell am I gonna wear?”

  “Take a breath. I’ve got plenty of cute clothes, what we really need to work on is this hair,” Brianna soothes me while pawing at my frizzy, black puffball of hair.

  “Can you make mine look like yours?” I know that I’m asking for a lot, but her hair is so stunning.

  “Are you kidding me? Do you know how much I set aside for a Keratin treatment every month? There’s no way. Besides, Mr. Hottie-McMoney didn’t ask you out because of your hair… obviously.” She plucks up a strand like it’s a dirty gym sock. “Nah, just need a good straightener and a ton of conditioning. First, let’s pick out something to wear.”

  Her wardrobe is less than ten steps from the front door of her tiny bachelorette pad. I didn’t even know they made apartments this small, but then again, Brianna has the whole place to herself. I would gladly sacrifice my bedroom to the New York rent-gods in exchange for some privacy. Not that Brianna spent much time alone in her place.

  She flings opens the door, and the brilliant shine of her skintight clothes blinds me. I start shaking my head in protest. “Oh relax will ya? I know you can’t handle any of my sexy dresses. You gotta own it if you wear something like this.” She pulls a scandalously short, siren red dress with triangle cut-outs surrounding the breasts. “I got something more your style back here.” She starts rummaging through her overstuffed closet.

  How does she know where anything is in that thing? She heaves the crazy amount of clothes sideways, grunting like a meathead at the gym, straining to reach the back. I watch her pat her hand around in behind the sequined tank tops and jeans encrusted with fake jewels blindly searching for her mystery dress.

  “I know it’s here… just a little… AHA! Gotcha!”

  She slips an elegant, black chiffon cocktail dress with a hint of silver pinstripes through the crushing wall of clothes and dangles it in front of my face with a triumphant smile. I smooth the dress down in front of me holding it against me like a paper doll. I can see that it will come to just above my knee. The beautiful, heart-shaped bodice plunges lower that I’d like, but the ribbon-belted waist makes it look classy and feminine.

  “I’ve never seen you dress like this, it looks expensive. Where did you get it?” I trace my finger over the delicate dress, longing to see what it looks like on.

  “I didn’t buy it. It’s a bridesmaid dress to the fanciest wedding I ever went to. It’s not like I can dance at the club in it, but I couldn’t chuck it. I’m
glad I didn’t, cause it’s perfect for tonight.”

  “It sure beats that purple cotton dress I set out.”

  “You gotta burn that thing! I can’t believe you were going to go in that drab dishrag.”

  “Ouch, that’s my nicest dress!”

  “Then burn ‘em all.” She laughs.

  “Alright, no need to hate on my clothes.” I smile at her. “We can’t all dress like rock stars.”

  “Then why get out of bed in the morning?” Brianna teases, “Anyway, we need to work on this hair. I’m not letting you go on your first date since… wait, I can’t think of any dates you’ve gone on!”

  “I’ve gone on dates before. Remember Bernie?”

  “Oh my god, that so doesn’t count! Your prom date? That was high school!” She sounds like I’ve broken a small part of her brain with this revelation.

  “It does so count. And besides, I don’t have time for dating. I’m busy with school and work.”

  “It doesn’t count unless you got laid.”

  I don’t want to talk about this right now, I know she thinks I’m an old-fashioned prude for maintaining my virginity. I’ve heard it all before. In her world, there’s no heavier albatross to bear than not having guys fall all over themselves to fall all over her. “Let’s just get my hair under control, please?”

  Luckily, she drops it and goes back to scrunching her nose up at my frizzy mess of hair. “Yeah, ok. I’m gonna go get the apple cider vinegar and Castor oil. We’ll wash it in my kitchen sink. Grab a chair and pull it over.”

  I don’t even want to know what’s in store for me. I just drag one of her plastic Ikea stools over and plop down.

  “You know, it’s funny how different we are,” she calls from the bathroom. “You’re like some kind of nun or saint or something. I just couldn’t live like that.”

  So much for avoiding the conversation. “I’m not a nun, I just want to make sure it’s with the right guy at the right time.”

  “I couldn’t do it, you don’t know what you’re missing.” She walks up beside me with a bunch of bottles in her arms. “Lean back over the sink.” She starts massaging the apple cider vinegar into my scalp as she goes on, “Like, the last time I went out I picked up not one, but two guys and brought them home to fuck.”

  “At the same time?” Even for Brianna that seems racy.

  “Yep, mmmm, it was incredible. Two sets of hands running over me, two tongues tasting me, two cocks…”

  “Brianna!” She laughs at my shock. The truth is, she isn’t wrong, I am kind of a prude. Well, that’s not true. It’s not like I don’t think about sex, I definitely do. It’s just that I’m not one to just treat it as casually as a handshake. I envy Brianna, being so free and comfortable with who she is.

  “Alright, alright! I won’t go there, but if you ever decide to start having fun, all I’ll say is you can’t go wrong with two men at the same time.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Three hours later, Brianna is finally finished. She’s just pulling a hair straightener through the last few strands. I go take a look in the mirror, letting out a low whistle. “Wow, it looks amazing. Almost makes all that time worth it,” I tease her. It’s so shiny and perfectly straight that I have a hard time prying my eyes off my reflection.

  “Seriously, how do you grow up not knowing how to style your hair?”

  “I dunno, I just had other priorities so I mostly just twisted it up. Anyway, thank you.”

  “We aren’t done yet. You still need some make-up. Get your ass back in the chair.”

  I sigh but do as I’m told. How can anyone do this every single day? It’s exhausting.

  After another hour, I’m finally made up to her satisfaction. After painting, lining, tweezing and god knows what else, I spring free from the chair to take another look in her large mirror.

  “Wow.”

  I search the beautiful face blinking back at me for some sign of recognition. Make-up is another one of those things I’ve never had time for. But seeing is believing, and I believe I might start.

  Brianna is looking at me like I’m her newborn child. I notice the lime green numbers on her microwave warning me that I need to get moving. “Is that time right?” I can feel the panic rising in my chest as I point over her shoulder to the 3:35 beaming at us from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, pretty close anyway.”

  “I’ve gotta go! His driver is meeting me at my place at 5.”

  Scrambling, I make a mad dash so I can catch the next bus. Where is my purse? I say a quick goodbye to Brianna and rush out the door. The bus screeches its overburdened breaks, stopping in front of her building just as I get to the curb. As my heart returns to a normal beat, I find a seat, realizing that I’ll have enough time to finish getting ready.

  You ever get that feeling that someone is staring a hole through you? When I look up, there are guys checking me out in every direction. I try not to notice, but they’re making it difficult when it’s so blatant. This must be what every day is like for girls like Brianna. Truth be told, it’s a little unnerving. But I can see how a girl could get used to it.

  Here’s my stop. I can’t get off the bus and away from all those hungry stares quick enough. Yet, I can’t help but give my hips a little shake as I make my way into my apartment.

  I dash toward my room and strip out of my plain clothes right away. Brianna’s luxurious dress clings to my normally hidden curves, lightly caressing my breasts and hugging my waist. I’ve never felt so beautiful in my entire life, not that any of this would likely impress Mr. Blackwell. Men with his kind of money take fancy clothes and perfect hair for granted. Not to mention women.

  What if this is shabby by his standard? His suit flashes through my mind, how the fabric looked like it was hand stitched over every muscle in his body, accentuating his impeccable form. Why did I agree to this stupid date? I can never measure up to the models I’m sure he’s used to dangling off his arms that are as interchangeable as his expensive watches. Is it too late to back out?

  You are a gift in this world, honey. Anyone who can’t see that is a fool. Remember, don’t ever let a fool kiss you…

  “And don’t let a kiss fool you,” I tell my reflection, finishing one of mama’s favorite quotes. Sadness clamps my heart as I find myself in another situation that I wish she was here for. With her jobs and the quick, greasy meals she usually ate on the run, we didn’t think her blood pressure was anything to worry about at first. Until the chest pains started. I remember the doctors telling her something had to give or her heart would, but she was too damned stubborn to listen. Her heart gave up right after my high school graduation, when she was 43. She had been so proud of me when I got my diploma. When the acceptance letters started rolling in for the colleges I applied for, she cried tears of joy. I still try to make her proud, knowing that she’s looking down over me.

  I check the time on my phone. It’s already 4:45! I need to start paying more attention to the time. I slip my plain, patent leather heels on and scurry out the door. Sure enough, there’s a sleek, silver limo parked outside the front door. I can’t help but feel self-conscious walking out to meet the driver, I’m sure everyone in my neighborhood is craning their necks, trying to steal peeks of who is emerging from the car. They must be scratching their heads to see me being seated inside by the chauffeur.

  Chapter 3: The Fundraiser

  I focus on the city sliding by my window, watching the buildings blur and melt and then compose themselves, standing strong as we idle in a crimson pool of brake lights. I’m trying not to focus on the cavernous backseat of the limo. After my initial awe of sitting in a car that looks like a small lounge, I feel wasteful to be riding in such a large vehicle by myself. With a bar, television, and seats that you melt into like butter, it’s difficult not to be impressed.

  Even still, it’s hard to silence my inner skeptic, the one who won’t stop nagging me that this is all too much. My only ‘limo’ experi
ences have been the cramped 40 foot city bus I’ve taken since I was a child. I can’t believe that this is just as common for some people.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this! There are so many more important things I should be working on right now. I can’t stop scolding myself. I’m so close to finishing my masters. I need to be focusing on that right now, not some rich pretty-boy. I should turn back, focus on the finish line, and not run around with some man who sees me as his weekly challenge. Or daily for that matter. My thoughts are scattered. I want to make my mama proud. After how hard she worked for us, I know I owe her more than just good grades. My eyes sting with tears as I remember how I wasn't always so grateful.