My Antisocial Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (My Billionaire A-Z Book 1)

by Katie Evergreen

  “How would I know?” asked mom. “You never tell me anything. Are you off to work today?”

  “Yeah,” she lied. Her mom had instilled in Ellie a strict work ethic, and she didn’t tolerate any excuses for slacking.

  “I’m sure the café would fall apart without you,” she said dryly. “Just remember, there’s plenty of work in Oregon, I can set you up in a good company, they’re looking for bright young things. And you’re always welcome back on the farm, I could use you.”

  “I’m fine, mom,” Ellie said, not feeling particularly young or bright. “I’m working on something big. There’s been some… interest.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie, was it?

  “Well do what you have to do,” said her mom. “You know I believe in you. And Ellie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You seem pretty insistent that the man you were with last night wasn’t a date. But if that was the case, why did you sound like a giddy schoolgirl when you called me?”

  Ellie’s cheeks blazed.

  “Gotta go,” she said. “Love you.”

  She ended the call. How ridiculous was her mother? She hadn’t sounded like a giddy schoolgirl at all, she’d just been tired, and Blake had caught her by surprise.

  Definitely not a date.

  She finished her coffee and toast then showered, dressing in a light, summery dress and flats. It would be nice to sit and work here all day, but she knew that as soon as Josh found out she wasn’t in the cafe he’d come over to keep her company. There were plenty of other cafés nearby she could use, but she found the hustle and bustle distracting. A book store was out of the question too because she’d end up returning home with a pile of new books and she was poor enough as it was.

  No, she needed somewhere quiet, somewhere where she’d be surrounded by books but wouldn’t have to pay for any, somewhere she wouldn’t be interrupted by Josh.

  Checking she had enough money for the bus, she grabbed her bag, and headed for the library. It was only as she was walking out the door that she remembered to pick up her laptop too, scolding herself for not focusing.

  Because the truth was, work wasn’t the only reason she was heading downtown.

  Blake stepped out of the heat into the glorious air-conditioned interior of the San Francisco Public Library. He kept his head down, his heart racing in case anyone recognized him. He was wearing a white polo shirt and jeans, white Adidas sneakers and a 49ers cap that he’d picked up on the way over. In addition, he’d shaved off his stubble and found a pair of black-rimmed glasses from before he’d had his eyes Lasiked. They made everything wobble like he was underwater, but they completely changed the shape of his face. Even with the disguise he felt like a spy, creeping into a government building to steal secrets and knowing that one wrong move would lead to instant death.

  Of course, it wasn’t a life or death thing really, not for him anyway. For his company, though, it could well be. David had told him to stay hidden, and after the incident in the bar that seemed like a good idea. But the thought of being imprisoned in a cell—even if that cell was a 4,000-square-foot luxury penthouse—was enough to bring on a panic attack. It was risky being here, but he’d used a driver today, and the car would be waiting right outside in the event he needed to make a quick getaway.

  Michelle and the board had locked him out of the Heartbook network completely, there was nothing he could do from home. That’s why he’d called an old friend of his last night and asked to meet up. Andy Gatward was one of the coders they’d hired in the early days of Heartbook to build the site’s infrastructure. He was a true genius, and he’d always kept a back door into the site in case of emergencies. He was completely loyal too, especially to Blake. A couple of years ago Blake had paid off his wife’s extortionate medical expenses when she’d been treated for Pancreatic cancer in a specialist clinic. She was in remission now and Andy would do anything for Blake in return.

  He realized he was standing aimlessly in the lobby, people funnelling past him, and he set off toward the rotunda. A few women were glancing his way, but nobody was scowling at him. Like he’d said to Ellie, he always felt safe here. He felt safe in any library. There was something about them that instilled a sense of calm, and the people who hung out here were intelligent and thoughtful. He’d been so thrilled when Ellie had started talking about books. Her eyes had lit up. To find out that she shared one of his true passions just confirmed that there was a bond between them, something special. He just wished they’d had a chance to talk about it a little more before the barmaid ruined their evening.

  And now they would never have that chance again. Blake had to put the company first, not just for him, but for the thousands of people who worked for him. If Heartbook went under then so would all those jobs, all those lives. He just couldn’t do it. However much Ellie was starting to mean to him, he had to put her out of his mind and focus on what was truly important.

  But what is truly important?

  The voice belonged to his mom, and it made him smile to hear her. How many times had she asked him that question when he was setting up his company, when he worked twenty-hour days and slept in his office? He’d stopped seeing his friends, he’d stopped dating, he’d even stopped speaking to her. All that had mattered was the company, but his mom had known that you can’t fill your heart with business, and you can’t feed your soul with shares. All she’d truly wanted for him was to be happy, to be loved, and it had made her sad to see him so emotionally devoted to something that gave nothing back.

  Except it had given him something back. It had given him everything, hadn’t it? The money, the houses, the cars, the clothes…

  He shook his head as he made his way to the reading rooms on the first floor. You couldn’t feed your soul with those things, either.

  He wove past the other library visitors, checking his watch. It was only just nine, and he wasn’t meeting Andy until closer to midday. His plan was to find a quiet place here and log in to Heartbook from a public IP address that hadn’t been blocked. He still wouldn’t be able to access his accounts, but he might be able to check the site for any other signs of hacking. It was better than sitting at home on his own, he thought, and if he couldn’t do anything then at least he could lie on a window seat in the sun and lose himself in a good book.

  No, he said to himself. Today was about work. Nothing would get in the way.

  And he was nodding to himself to cement that fact into his head when he heard a familiar voice call out his name.

  13

  At first she wasn’t sure if it was him. He looked different, his hair hidden by a cap, a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He was clean shaven, and his baggy clothes didn’t give much of a clue as to what lay underneath. She’d followed him up the stairs and halfway down the corridor to the reading rooms before he angled his head to the side and she knew for certain.

  “Blake?” she said, lightly touching his arm. There was nobody else around, but she spoke in almost a whisper so as not to give his identity away. He turned, his startled expression changing instantly to one of delight.

  “Ellie!” he said, and he’d opened his arms before he even seemed to know he was doing it. Ellie had to hold back from throwing herself at him, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. His arms folded gently around her back for a moment, holding her tight. He smelled amazing, like sandalwood and mint, and she felt the hardness of his chest against her face like a wall of muscle. He let go too soon, and she took a reluctant step back. Her cheeks were on fire, and she waved a hand in front of her face.

  “Really hot in here,” she said, trying to cover her embarrassment. “Are you hot? I’m hot. Really hot.”

  “It’s definitely hot,” Blake said, still smiling. “What brings you here?”

  You, she thought, so relieved that she’d found him. It had been such a long shot, especially after what had happened in the bar. But when she’d seen that it really was him her heart had soared like a bird


  “You know,” she said. “Work. LifeWrite stuff. Speaking with you last night motivated me, you know? I wanted to strike while the iron was hot.”

  She looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone.

  “Are you okay, after… That barmaid never should have done that.”

  Blake sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face. When he put them back on she saw how well they framed his eyes—eyes that were full of kindness. The thought reminded her of how she’d felt last night, how she’d noticed both his strength and his vulnerability.

  “She had every right to do it,” he said. “If she thought I said the things on my Heartbook profile then she was entitled to do a lot worse.”

  “But you didn’t do it,” Ellie said, moving closer to him so that she could keep her voice low.

  “I know that,” he said. “But nobody else does. As far as the world is concerned, I’m a monster.”

  “I don’t think you’re a monster at all,” Ellie said, wanting nothing more than to pull him to her, to show him how much she trusted him.

  He managed half a smile, his chest heaving in another sigh.

  “Did you look?” he asked. “At the posts?”

  Ellie nodded.

  “Some of them,” she said.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t thrown something at me yourself,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re even talking to me.”

  “Blake,” she said. “It doesn’t take a genius to be able to read somebody. I’ve known you for a day now, less than that. I know you didn’t do it. I would bet everything I had on it. I would testify in court if I had to.” She looked into his soulful eyes, and it was like she was staring into his mind. “I know.”

  He nodded.

  “All we have to do now,” she said. “Is find a way of letting the rest of the world know too.”

  Blake opened a door into another reading room, finally finding one that was empty.

  “How about this?” he asked, and Ellie nodded. She dropped her bag onto a chair by the window, perching on the edge of the desk. Blake couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was like a glorious piece of summer had broken away from the day and floated inside the library. Her yellow dress hung midway down her thighs, hair the color of English hay pulled back into a messy ponytail. Behind her glasses her eyes glittered like a sun-soaked river.

  More than anything, he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. In so many of the books he had read, that’s exactly what the protagonist would have done. But something held him back. She said that she believed him about the posts not being his words, but there must still have been a part of her that wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to do anything that she might take the wrong way—like telling her she was beautiful while they were alone together in a room on the third floor of the San Francisco Public Library.

  “Uh, great,” he said, fighting to organize his thoughts. He slid his glasses into his pocket, happy to be rid of them. “You want a coffee or anything?”

  “No, not yet,” she replied. “Are you sure you’ve got time? I mean I know you must be really busy.”

  “Right now I have nothing to do,” he said, pulling another chair beside hers. “Literally nothing. I’m completely frozen out of everything.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ellie said. He waved it away.

  “I’m not, it gives me a chance to be here with you,” he said. “I mean, because of LifeWrite. Because it’s such a great idea.”

  “I don’t know,” she said bashfully, pulling out her laptop and her notebook and throwing the bag to the floor. They sat down next to each other and she switched on the ancient machine. “It was just a silly idea really, just some scatterbrained plan.”

  “You don’t ever have to do that,” Blake said. Their shoulders were almost touching and it took every ounce of restraint not to press closer, not to put his arm around her. “You don’t ever have to put yourself down. What you’ve got here is amazing, and what’s even more special is that you did it in the first place. You found a passion, you fought to make it real. It’s incredible. It’s exactly what I did.”

  “Not quite,” she said, laughing. “My idea isn’t worth fifty billion dollars on the stockmarket.”

  “Neither’s mine,” he said. “Not today, anyway. And it wasn’t when it started, either. You know when I first had the idea for Heartbook I was working in mom’s restaurant as a busboy.”

  “A busboy?” Ellie said, laughing again. It was contagious. “No way!”

  “Yeah, way,” he said. “There was no place for me to work, so when I had a break I’d take my laptop into the toilet and lock myself in a cubical.”

  “A toilet?” she said, shaking her head. “That’s disgusting.”

  “I know, right?” he replied. “But I’d sit there and write code whenever I could. I was in there so often the other staff started calling me Flusher.”

  A laugh escaped Ellie and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

  “Flusher,” she said. “You do realize I’m going to have to call you that from now on.”

  “I deserve it,” he said. “You know, after a while, because I was in there so often, mom started charging me rent. Five bucks a week.”

  “Harsh,” said Ellie.

  “Exactly,” said Blake. “She was a ruthless landlord. I was young, not even twenty, and I didn’t have any money at all. In fact, I couldn’t even pay her that, I was so broke. I had about fifty cents to my name at one point. But what I lacked in finances I made up for in passion. I never gave up, I never stopped believing. You shouldn’t either. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “Okay, Flusher,” she said, and he laughed. “But I’m warning you, it’s not much.”

  She opened up a folder on her laptop.

  “I can’t code. At least not very well. Not well enough for this. But the architecture is all here.”

  “LifeWrite,” said Blake, reading from the screen. “Write your own story. That’s good.”

  “Thanks,” said Ellie, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Like I said to you last night, stories are so powerful, they can unite us in so many ways.”

  Like our story, he thought, wondering if he’d have the chance to tell it to their children one day.

  Whoa, Blake!

  He pushed the thought out of his head, startled that it had appeared there. Ellie’s light, summer scent was making him breathless and he tried to edge his chair away without her noticing. If he didn’t take a step back, he was in danger of passing out.

  Focus, he ordered himself. He couldn’t risk looking like a creep, not on top of everything else. Maybe he should have taken David’s advice and stayed inside, stayed hidden, stayed alone. But then Ellie smiled at him and he knew he’d made the right choice. Besides, her plan for LifeWrite seemed like a really good one.

  “Show me more,” he said.

  She did, she showed him everything. She gushed about her project, demonstrating how the accounts were called Pages, the groups called Chapters. It was laid out like a high street with nothing but book shops and cafés, libraries and parks, and as she flicked through designs and illustrations it felt almost as if she was showing him around her own private paradise. He couldn’t help but imagine that they were strolling hand in hand, nowhere to go but where their hearts took them, nothing to worry about except where to stop for ice cream and brownies and what book to read next.

  “This part is based on my favorite book from childhood,” she said. “The Swiss Family Robinson. Have you read it?”

  Blake nodded. He’d taken a copy from his mom’s small library when he was a kid, intrigued by the premise of being stranded on a desert island. He must have read it a dozen times over the years, partly because of the story, but partly because the novel always reminded him of mom.

  “I had a copy,” she said. “It wasn’t a first edition, but it was old, like one of the first copies in English. I found it in a thrift store once, back home in Oregon, and I couldn’t believe my luck.”

/>   “That’s amazing,” he said. “I’d love to see it.”

  “So would I,” she replied with a sigh. “But it’s long gone. Josh, my ex, borrowed it. Left it on a plane. Didn’t even read it. He bought me a cheap paperback to replace it and couldn’t understand why I was so upset.”

  “I understand,” Blake said, feeling as furious now as she must have then. She smiled at him with gratitude, holding his eye for a moment longer than she had to.

  “Um, so, anyway, check this out.”

  She went on with the tour, showing him around a digitized island. He commented where she let him, telling her how much he loved this design, or that idea. Every time she moved to a different theme—each one based on a famous work of literature—he told her how much he loved the books she’d picked. He’d read almost all of them, and when there was one he hadn’t she detoured from the presentation to tell him all about it. She showed him how eventually LifeWrite would be able to use your computer camera to assess what kind of mood you were in, helping you out if you felt sad or lonely, reading poems and stories to you to cheer you up.

  She was so animated, and so full of passion for her project. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and he found himself thinking about how easy it would be to make this a reality, and how popular it could be. The internet was so full of negativity, social media drowning under the force of criticism and bile—Heartbook included. LifeWrite was so refreshing, and such a good idea that he wondered why nobody had taken it seriously yet.

  She reminded him most of all of his own excitement in the early days of Heartbook. Back then he had given everything to the company, but he hadn’t minded because it had been his project. Ever since the company had gone public, and he’d had to answer to a board of directors and an army of shareholders, he’d enjoyed his role less and less. Nothing about Heartbook felt personal any more.

  “And that’s kind of it,” she said. “That’s my baby.”

  Blake nodded, emerging from the conversation the same way he emerged from dreams. He blinked, the room gradually reforming around him, noticing the muted sounds from the rest of the library, the sunlight filtering through the window.