Dirty Business_A Billionaire Romance

by Ellie Danes

  I wondered if he was trying to impress me. It really wasn't working. I was happy to talk about business and investing, but if he thought that showing off about his taste in whiskey or clothes was going to charm me, he was way off the mark.

  “It's twenty-one-year-old whiskey, actually,” I said, hoping that he would pick up on the coldness in my voice and take the hint that I didn't really want to talk to him. “Single malt, yes. Now, if you'll excuse me—”

  “Hahaha,” he chuckled, “I should have known it was twenty-one and not eighteen. This whiskey is old enough to drink itself!”

  I chuckled politely, even though it was a lame joke. How was I going to get rid of this guy? He really didn't seem to be able to take a hint.

  “Hey, I saw you using Quickchat,” he remarked. “Cool app, huh? Who were you talking to?”

  Now here was an opportunity to get this guy off my back. “I was talking to my boyfriend,” I said. “His name is Jace. And his friend Matthew was in a bad car accident tonight, so if you don't mind, I need to keep an eye on my phone and not chat to people in case there's an update.”

  I knew that Jace wouldn't mind—or at least guessed that he wouldn't mind—if I told this creep that he was my boyfriend to get him off my back. It seemed to work, because as soon as I said that, a curious expression came over Cory's face. It was part anger, part jealousy, part aggression.

  “So, Matthew White was in a car accident huh,” he muttered. “Barbara is going to be very interested to hear about that.”

  That was weird—he seemed to know who Jace and Matthew were.

  “Well don't go spreading it around,” I said, now a little worried that my big mouth was going to cause some problems.

  “Ha,” he smirked. “It's a bit late for that now. You've already let the cat out of the bag. Well whatever, I have more interesting people who I can talk to, like that hot model slash investor, Samantha. I think I'm going to go and pick her brains about some up-and-coming software companies . . . and maybe I'll get to pick something else of hers too.”

  Ugh. This guy was a gross, pervy creep. I was glad that mentioning Jace had gotten rid of him. He drank the last of his whiskey, left the empty glass on the table, and stormed off.

  A while later I got a message from Jace. He said that he was really too worn-out after the evening's events to talk anymore, but wanted to know if I was free to meet up and have dinner the following evening.

  I typed out a reply. “Of course, I'd love to. There's a great little Italian place a couple blocks away from where I live. It's called Massimo's. Meet you there at seven?”

  His response came right away. “That sounds wonderful. I'll see you there at seven.”

  * * * * *

  I felt a little under-dressed, at least compared to the previous evening, but it was nice to be dressed more casually. I really did enjoy getting dressed up for black tie events, but getting my makeup right and my hair done perfectly took a lot of time and effort, and it wasn't something I wanted to do every day. This evening I was just dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a tight T-shirt, as Jace and I had agreed to a “jeans and T-shirt” dress code for the evening. The first time I'd met him he had been in running gear, and last night we'd already seen each other dressed up—so there was no need to play the game of continually impressing each other.

  I arrived before him and took a seat at the table we had reserved. Just as I was about to check my phone, he came strolling through the door. Even dressed as casually as he was—in slim-fit jeans, sneakers, and a white T-shirt, he looked immensely dashing. His tanned arms were chiseled, and his chest was broad and the muscles pronounced. His hair was styled perfectly, and when he saw me he flashed a bright white smile.

  I smiled back at him, feeling the unmistakable flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

  I stood up as he got to the table and gave him a quick hug. It was great to feel his body against mine, if only for a second or two. I sat down, still smiling.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “I'm all right. A little tired after all the stress of last night, but I managed to get some decent sleep, so I'm doing okay. You?”

  “I was also pretty stressed out with running the ball last night, but it was a success in the end. So, I too managed to get a good night's sleep. How's your friend?”

  He sighed and shook his head slowly. “He’s not doing that well, to be honest. I just came from the hospital now. He hasn't woken from his coma yet, unfortunately. I sat by his bed and talked to him. I don't know if he could hear me or what, but I figured that he would feel better if he could at least hear my voice near him.”

  That struck me as being incredibly sweet. “You obviously care for him very much, huh?”

  He nodded. “He and I are much more like brothers than friends. We've been best friends since we were twelve years old.”

  “Wow! That's a long time,” I remarked.

  “Yeah, it is. But you know, sometimes you just meet a buddy who gets you, and who you get, and that's how it goes. You're friends for life.”

  I nodded. “I don't have any friends from my elementary school days, but I am still friends with one of my besties from senior year of high school. She lives in Portland, though, so we don't get to see each other that much.”

  “Hey, at least you're still in contact,” he said. “That's more than I can say for most of my school friends.”

  “Well I really hope Matthew is okay,” I said. I meant that, and I think that he could see the sincerity of that statement in my eyes.

  Just then a waiter came along and asked if he could get us any drinks.

  “How about a little wine?” Jace asked me.

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” I said.

  “All right,” said Jace to the waiter, “could you bring us a bottle of your best dry red?”

  He nodded. “Certainly sir,” he replied, and then hurried off to get the wine.

  Jace and I chatted some more, mostly talking about our respective pasts. I was surprised to learn that he had grown up in California—he seemed like the epitome of a New Yorker. I was equally surprised to learn that he actually knew who my Dad was, and seemed to know a little about my Dad's investment firm.

  “Good, honest traders,” he remarked. “I don’t know a lot about business, but that's what I've heard about them.”

  We ended up talking about baseball, of all things. I had always been a huge baseball fan and had played Little League when I was younger. I had been a bit of a tomboy, well, up until adolescence anyway. Jace had also played Little League but had continued to play throughout high school.

  “I really think that if I had put a little more effort into it, I could have gone pro,” he said. “Okay, well . . . maybe a lot more effort. But I was pretty good. I could pitch one mad curveball. I had that raw talent that a good player really needs as a foundation to build upon. I had it, but in my teenage years I unfortunately got much more into getting wasted and partying and pulling stupid pranks than practicing baseball. I always wonder what would have happened, though, and where I would have been if I had taken it a little more seriously when I was younger.”

  The wine came, and then the food, which was absolutely delicious. By the end of the meal I found that we had managed to finish the whole bottle of wine, and I was feeling a little tipsy. Not drunk, just a little buzzed. And I also found myself looking into Jace's sexy eyes for longer and longer periods. He seemed to be enjoying staring into mine as well.

  “Should we get out of here?” he said.

  “We should . . . but I need to go home. I have to meet my boss early in the morning, so I should go to bed soon. You can walk me there if you want, though.”

  He smiled. “Of course. A little stroll under the stars sounds great. Let me just take care of the bill.”

  He paid the bill and then we headed out. We kept talking about random things: movies and shows we liked, music we were fans of, silly memories. Along the way, somehow my hand brushed against his—a
nd then we were holding hands, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His big, strong hand encircling mine just felt amazing. I could feel the heat of his energy and power through the gently applied strength of his grip.

  Eventually, we got to my place.

  “Here we are,” I said, and we both laughed, a little awkwardly.

  “Here we are,” he echoed.

  “It was a beautiful evening,” I said. “I really, really enjoyed myself tonight.”

  “I did too,” he said quickly. “I'm serious, I really did. I had an amazing time with you.”

  “I'd love to do this again,” I said. “Whenever you're free.”

  “I'd love to do it again too. Soon. But there's also something else I'd like to do, if you don't mind . . .”

  I knew what he wanted to do—and I wanted to do it as well. We stared into each other's eyes, and then, suddenly, our lips were together, his tongue parting my lips and exploring my mouth with eager enthusiasm. Liquid fire shot through my veins as we kissed passionately, and I moaned softly into his mouth. Arousal coursed fiercely through my veins, setting every nerve ending on fire, and I found myself wanting him—wanting more of him—with a desperate hunger.

  I wasn't, however, one to go all the way before I felt I really knew a guy. It just wasn't my way. And as much as I liked Jace and felt like I was swiftly getting to know him, I wasn't about to break that rule.

  I broke off the kiss and smiled at him.

  “That was an awesome kiss,” I said, smiling at him. “And I hate to say goodnight, but I have a very early start tomorrow.”

  “I understand,” he said. “We'll talk soon. Have a great evening, Marie.”

  I kissed him again quickly. “You too, Jace.”

  He nodded, smiled, and turned and walked off, his hands in his pockets, and I watched him go with a smile on my face.

  I headed inside, and as I was locking up, realized that we had never actually gotten onto the topic of what we each did for a living. I had told him a little about doing investment work with Isaac Wallace, but he hadn't really said much about what it was that he did. I guessed I would find out in time.

  I had a quick shower, climbed into bed, and got my iPad to check out the news before going to sleep.

  In the financial section of the online newspaper a headline caught my eye. “Co-Founder of Software Company that Brought Us Quickchat in a Coma After Auto Wreck.”

  That was weird. It seemed that a lot of people were getting into bad car accidents these days. I opened the article and started to skim through it.

  “Billionaire Matthew White, co-founder of the software company that brought us Quickchat—”

  Whoa. Whoa! Matthew White—Jace's friend?! This article was about him? I kept reading, my heart starting to beat faster and faster. It turned out that the other founder was a man called Everett J. Cooper IV. I knew that name—it had been on the guest list of the ball! I scrolled down, and then almost jumped out of bed when I saw a photograph of Matthew—with Jace! Under the picture was a caption, “Co-Founders Matthew White and Everett J. Cooper IV.”

  His name wasn't Jace—it was Everett J. Cooper IV!

  I couldn't believe this . . . I really couldn't. How could he not have mentioned something so gigantic? He’d said at least a couple of times that he didn’t know much about business. How could a billionaire not know much about business? And if he was lying about this, what else was he lying about?

  I turned the light off, feeling like I had slipped into a state of shock. And that same question kept running through my mind repeatedly.

  If he was lying about this, what else was he lying about?

  The guy I’d quickly been falling for—he wasn’t trustworthy at all.

  Chapter 16

  Jace

  I walked back from Marie's place feeling like I was on cloud nine. My mouth was still tingling from the awesome intensity of the kiss we had shared—the first kiss of many, I hoped. It had been such a perfect evening; the conversation had flowed so smoothly and naturally, and it had really felt like we were old friends who had known each other forever, instead of being two people meeting only for the third time ever.

  Earlier in the evening I had spent an hour with Matthew, just talking to him about old times and good memories. I also didn’t hold back my anger that he’d been such an idiot. His blood-alcohol level had been insanely beyond what was legal. “You’re smarter than this,” I’d said. “As soon as you get better, I have half a mind to kick your ass.”

  Even though he was still in a coma, it felt as if he was listening, as if he could understand me. And while that had felt good, it had also been something of a sad experience, and I had felt weighed down and kind of depressed afterward. When I met Marie for our date, however, all of that had changed.

  Still, by the time I got to my car, the high from being with her had started to wear off, and cold hard reality had slowly started to set in again.

  As I climbed into my car, my phone rang. I smiled, thinking it might be Marie calling to wish me goodnight, but instead I saw that it was my aunt. I watched the phone ringing in my hand for a while, debating in my mind over whether I should take the call or not.

  “Hi, Aunt Barbara,” I said, hoping that she wasn't about to unleash a tirade of negativity onto me.

  “Have you thought about what to do about this situation with Matthew White, Everett? Because it's all over the press now. The pressure is on. Investors are going to be getting scared, Everett—and that's bad, that's really bad. Your future is in your hands at this very moment. You can either show those investors that you're an old-school, cutthroat businessman who can handle any kind of heat and put logic—and profits—before weak emotion and sentimentality, or you can demonstrate to them that you're a weak mama's boy who'd rather let his feelings get in the way of making the right decision . . . and then cry all the way into bankruptcy. What's it going to be, Everett, what's it going to be?”

  I didn’t have a response for her. All I wanted was to get off the phone and think about Marie.

  “Did you hear me, Ernest?” snapped my aunt. “I said, you have two choices here, two options only. You cut loose the deadweight—or you let it sink your whole ship. This is your warning from the universe, God, whatever you believe in. That man, that Peter White, he's holding you back and dragging you down! Now you have a day, two at the most, to make a decision about this. And you already know in your head what the right decision is, Ernest. You have to let him go. You have to. If you don't, you can kiss everything you worked for goodbye. I promise you that. I've been in this game long enough to know this. You can disregard my advice if you wish, Ernest—at your peril, to your own detriment. And that's all I have to say on this matter. You sit down, and you have a really good think about what you need to do here. Good night and goodbye.”

  “Wait,” I said.

  “What is it?”

  I sighed—a long, slow contemplative sigh—and then spoke. “All right, Aunt Barbara, now is when I really need your advice. What's the best way to go about getting Matthew out of the company?”

  Chapter 17

  Marie

  I woke up early, as I had to, and got ready to go to Isaac's place. He was taking me to a park where a group of “old Chinese people”—as he’d put it—did Tai Chi every morning at sunrise. Again, I wasn't quite sure how this was related to what I was supposed to be learning from him about being a great CEO and investor, but I had long since learned not to question his methods. The lessons weren't necessarily direct and obvious—but they were nonetheless valuable.

  While I knew that I should be focusing on Isaac and what he was trying to teach me this morning, I simply couldn't stop thinking about Jace—or rather, Everett J. Cooper IV. I was still totally shocked about this revelation. I had been on a date with the guy who invented Quickchat. A guy who was head of one of the hottest and most talked about software development companies in the world! And he hadn't said a single word about this to me.
I felt betrayed. I felt as if I had been lied to. Maybe he hadn't directly lied to me, but at least once he’d told me he didn’t know much about business. And the topic of his job hadn't come up—but how could he ever think it was okay to neglect to mention such a huge thing to me?

  I found it hard to believe that a man like him could be single and unattached. He was a billionaire, he was extraordinarily handsome, he was jacked and athletic, supremely intelligent. Guys like that were generally womanizers, sleeping with models and actresses, probably a different one every night of the week.

  Maybe that was all this was. Maybe he just wanted to get me into bed, and then once that was over and done with I would never hear from him again. Maybe I was just another conquest for him.

  It was just so sad. Things had been great on the date we'd been on. Really great. I had felt such an intense, genuine, and effortless connection with him. Had he really been faking it? Had he really been lying? Maybe I was being too harsh on him. Maybe he had a good reason for not revealing to me who he really was. Maybe he wanted to make sure I wasn't just some gold digger after his money. Maybe he was tired of women going after him because he was rich and famous, and he was looking for someone who was into him just because of the person he was—Jace, simple, easy-going Jace, not billionaire CEO Everett J. Cooper IV.

  It was all so confusing and distressing. I tried to just stop thinking about it for a while.

  I headed out to my car. It was still dark outside. I had to chuckle, because the last time I'd been out on the street at this hour, my friends and I had been stumbling home after too many drinks at a club.

  I drove over to Isaac's place, stopping for a coffee on the way—I needed a good shot of caffeine to keep me alert at this hour. As usual, when I knocked on Isaac's door, he was awake and full of energy and enthusiasm.

  “Ah, my young assistant!” he said eagerly, beaming out his warm grandfatherly smile at me as he opened the door. “Isn't it a glorious time of day!”

  “It's uh, it's good, yeah,” I said, my own lack of enthusiasm painfully apparent. I managed to stifle a yawn at the end of this sentence.