Billionaire's Secret: The Complete Series

by Simone Sowood

  “I’ll have someone bring it to your house.”

  “I am driving myself home.”

  “Where are your keys?” My shoulders drop and my eyes close.

  I sigh. “In his bedroom.”

  “Exactly. Get in.”

  Begrudgingly, I sit in the car and Lawson shuts the door. My nose wrinkles as I use my panties to wipe off the semen on my chest. As we pull out of the driveway, I manage to fix my bra and put my top back on.

  “I don’t want you going back there,” Lawson says, shifting gears.

  “It’s my biggest commission plus a gallery showing, I need it.”

  “So I’ll fucking commission you to paint something for every wall in my house, plus a gallery show in every city you want.”

  “That wouldn’t count! Don’t you see? I want to succeed because of my talent, not because I let some billionaire fuck me!”

  “So you’ll find something else. Anything, just not with him.”

  I’m so angry, I can’t even respond anymore. Instead I fume in silence. Kelso and Lawson’s argument keeps playing over in my head. Each time I replay the words, I feel more and more like a pawn in their pissing contest.

  Which isn’t surprising, given they’re both billionaires. I knew from the start not to have anything to do with the rich. They’re people who’ve lost their humanity, they don’t care about people like me; not really.

  We pull into Ava’s driveway. Without saying anything, I get out of the car and go into the house. I lock the door behind me, just in case Lawson plans to come in after me.

  Ava is dozing in the living room, and I hurry down the hall before I wake her. I can’t face a conversation with her now. Not when I don’t have my own thoughts straight.

  After I shower, I head to my studio and do the only thing I know for sure I can do — paint. When I focus on my work, I’m able to push the other issues to the back of my mind. Besides, Gordon said he’s had a man from New York asking for my work, I have to create something to sell him. I finally seem to be getting somewhere with my career, granted it’s not anywhere huge yet, but it’s still exciting.

  Ava brings me a hot dog for dinner. While I eat it, I check my phone. One text from Lawson.

  Don’t go to Kelso’s again.

  How dare he continue to tell me what to do. I’m still furious he made me leave Kelso’s in the first place. And I’m more than furious about the way he and Kelso argued about me.

  I don’t bother to reply. I lose interest in finishing my dinner, and throw myself back into my work.

  In bed that night, I toss and turn. At some point I decide to go to Kelso’s in the morning. I’ll take a taxi, since my car is there. If he’s home, I’ll work downstairs. If not, I’ll sneak into the bedroom and do a rush job finishing the spread eagle. No one’s going to see it anyway, it doesn’t have to be perfect.

  In the morning, Ava is already gone. She’s meeting with Gordon, again. Sometimes I think there’s more going on between them than a shared interest in local art.

  The taxi lets me out in front of Kelso’s door. I pay the driver out of the three-hundred-dollar tip money Lawson had given me at the diner. Already I’m in a bad mood, remembering how he gave me money way back then because he liked me and not because I earned it.

  I hear Kelso’s voice coming down the hallway. Remembering Lawson’s concerns, it’s best if I work on the temple painting. That way I’m close to the door in case there’s a problem.

  But first, I have to get my things from the bedroom. I take off my shoes and tiptoe up the stairs. Kelso hasn’t touched any of my stuff. Maybe he didn’t sleep in here last night. Except the cover on the bed has been changed.

  The spread eagle painting is nearly finished. The folds are complete, it’s just the outer edges, her toes, the tops of her torso and the background. I’ll do a rush job, it’ll only take a couple of hours.

  But for now, I want to get out of the bedroom as fast as possible.

  “I’m glad you came back,” Kelso says, startling me.

  “I just had to get my bag, with my purse and keys.” I hold the bag up to show him, as proof.

  “Now that I know you’re a little slut, let’s talk about your painting here.” He closes the distance between us. My heart pounds and I gulp, but he’s blocking the door and I have no escape.

  “I am not a slut,” I say, trying to sound strong.

  “Sugar,” he says, cupping my cheek, “we need to revisit the terms of our contract.”

  “Huh?” I’m shaking under his touch, my eyes dart around the room, searching for a plan of escape.

  “I say, we get in this bed and forget yesterday ever happened.”

  Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Why did I come up here? If I’d stayed in the hallway and finished the temple, everything would’ve been fine.

  “No,” I say, my voice weak. Kelso laughs, right in my face. He’s so close I can see his tongue move against his teeth.

  “You’re playing in the big leagues now, Skye, normal rules don’t apply to people like us.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Surely you must realize Lawson only screwed you in this room as a way to get back at me.”

  “That isn’t true.” Is it? “We’ve been dating, he cares about me.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s not the first time he’s done that to me. Last month I walked into my office and he had my secretary bent over my desk. The secretary he knew I was fucking. He fucking hated her, he only did it when he knew I’d walk in on them.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I say, my brow furrowed.

  “I’ve known Lawson since he was twenty years old. Trust me, he’s a man who likes to fuck a different woman every week. And he gets extra excited when he fucks one he knows I’ve been after. Though, I admit, I do the same to him.”

  Could that be true? I’d felt so connected to Lawson. Was it all a stupid lie I’d been naïve enough to buy into?

  “No, Lawson cares about me.”

  “Then he’ll be even more annoyed when I fuck you.”

  The word fuck flings me into action.

  “No!” I scream and break away from him, running for the door with my bag in my hand.

  “If you leave here now, don’t plan on coming back. Our contract will be over.”

  I slam the door shut and keep on running until I reach my car.

  The entire drive home, only one sentence keeps running through my mind — Lawson only screwed you in here as a way to get back at me.

  Go Slow

  (Lawson)

  I pull into Kelso’s driveway in my Maserati. I’ve come to make sure Skye isn’t here, and to protect her if she is. Because I plan to spend the day with Skye, I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Not that I’m playing into her little good Lawson, prick Lawson thing, but because I want to be comfortable.

  My heart sinks when Skye’s car is nowhere in sight. At least it means she’s no longer here. But she was here, and it fucking pains me to think why she came and left.

  Skye wouldn’t just come to get her car. She would’ve come to paint.

  I knew I should’ve come here first thing and waited, in case she showed up. Unfortunately I had a phone meeting with an investor in Europe that couldn’t be postponed.

  What happened here this morning? I turn off the engine and stride through the front door.

  Her painting stuff is still here.

  “Kelso!” I shout, moving deeper into the house. I turn a corner into the kitchen and come face to face with the slimy bastard.

  “What’s the matter, looking for your slut?”

  “You better not have talked to her like that.”

  “Only after she wouldn’t renegotiate the terms of our contract.”

  “You’re pathetic.” My jaw is clenched and the tendons in my neck straining. It’s all I can do not to plow that smug look off his face. But I’m not about to give him anything that might help out his case. Instead, I’ll fuck
ing rape him in the courts. He wants to settle now? Fat fucking chance. I’m going to throw everything at him, cost him his fortune in legal fees until he’s left dazed and wondering what happened to all his money.

  Before he can respond, I’m heading back out of the house. I don’t need to hear any more from the asshole, Julie can deal with him from now on.

  My tires squeal as I tear out of Kelso’s. The drive to Skye’s house takes a fraction the time it normally does. Her car is here, and I sigh with relief.

  My knock is so loud, it echoes down the street. I wait for a stupid amount of time before putting my hand on the door knob, wondering if I could break it down. But at that moment, the door opens.

  Skye’s eyes are puffy and red. At the sight of her, I lift my hand to her face and run my thumb over her cheek.

  “What do you want?” Skye steps back, away from my touch.

  “I want to make sure you’re okay.” I step through the door. “Did Kelso do anything to you this morning?”

  “How do you know I was there?”

  “I went there to get your car for you.” She doesn’t need to know I went there to keep her away from Kelso.

  “Well, I got it myself. I’m a big girl.”

  “As long as Kelso didn’t do anything to you.”

  “No, he just talked some shit and I left.”

  I try to urge her down the hallway, or at least away from the entrance, but she doesn’t budge.

  “Sunshine, are you okay?” I reach out and take her hands in mine.

  “You and Kelso are real rivals, aren’t you?” She takes her hands away and folds them across her chest.

  “I hate the bastard.”

  “You’d do anything to hurt him, huh?”

  “Hell yes.”

  “Including screwing the chick who’s working for him in his own bed.”

  “What? No. That was all your fault, seeing you and that painting, I couldn’t contain myself.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Come on, you can’t seriously think that.”

  “This is what I think, I think I’m a pathetic little pawn caught in the middle of a pissing match between two billionaires.”

  I slam the side of my fist against the open door, causing a loud bang. Skye flinches.

  “For fuck’s sake, Skye, that’s insane.”

  “Oh, oh, I see. I have the guts to say what’s so obviously happening, and that makes me insane.”

  “I never said you were insane, I said the idea was. There’s a big difference.”

  “Whatever. How else do you explain whatever’s going on between you and Kelso? The two of you treat me like a toy you’re fighting over in the sandbox.”

  “Where are you getting this? Did Kelso fill you with these ideas?”

  This is fucking bullshit. I’ll be damned if I let that asshole fuck over my relationship. Part of me wants to drive right back over there and do what I should’ve done this morning: beat his face in.

  “I think I’m smart enough to see it on my own, thank you.”

  “That’s absurd. Think about it, I didn’t even know you worked there when I met you.”

  “I know that! But once you found out, you turned it into another opportunity to get at him.”

  “You know what I think? I think that asshole is fucking me over right now. He’s filled you full of ideas, because he knows it’ll fuck over my relationship with the only woman I’ve ever cared about.”

  Skye’s chin is quivering. She squeezes her eyes shut and opens them again, blinking like crazy to wash away her tears.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Do what?” My throat is so tight I struggle to get the words out.

  “This. Us. We’re too different. I’m not from your world. I don’t belong in it any more than you belong in mine.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Skye, enough with the different-worlds bullshit.” I’m struggling to contain myself now. I always control myself. Always. Part of me knows I should get out of here now, go and calm down and then come back. But Skye’s so upset, I can’t bear the thought of leaving her like this.

  “It’s not bullshit! You have no idea how important that job at Kelso’s was to me. And now I’ve lost it, all because you didn’t take it seriously.”

  “Hey, I didn’t make you take your clothes off yesterday. If I remember right, you didn’t object to the idea for one second. And you sure as hell weren’t complaining by the end.”

  Her cheeks turn the color of her puffy eyes. For a moment a coy smile almost graces her face, but not quite.

  Skye swallows, and says, “It was a momentary lapse in judgement.”

  “I don’t think it was a lapse at all. I think it was the best way I’ve ever spent a morning.”

  “It cost me my first commission and my dream.”

  I smirk. “You were painting a pussy, is that really your dream?”

  “It was only one painting of ten! Plus he was funding a gallery showing. Now I’ve lost the commission and the show, because of you.”

  “I would love to fund a show for you. Not because you’re sleeping with me, but because you’re talented.”

  She shakes her head. “No. It’s best if I don’t wrap myself up in your life anymore than I already have.”

  “Listen to me. The reality is, I’m going to crush Kelso in the courts. When I get through with him, he won’t have money left over to pay for gallery shows.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like a pissing contest to me.”

  I close my eyes. My heart is racing and my throat feels like I’m being strangled. I’m not even sure what’s going on.

  “My issues with Kelso are nothing to do with you. Why can’t you see that?”

  “Stop.”

  “No, I will not stop. Why can’t you see how much you mean to me?”

  “I’m just another poor person you think you can order around and use.”

  “You know what I think it is? I think you don’t want to see it. Fuck, twenty-four hours ago your toes were curled from my touch, and now all of a sudden you want me to leave?”

  “Go. Leave. Now.” She pushes me toward the door. She’s using all her strength and I don’t want to physically resist her.

  “What’s wrong with you, Skye? Why do you keep making up shit in your head?”

  I cross the threshold and she slams the door shut, and the bolt snaps a second later. My entire body is numb.

  “Let me back in, let me talk to you,” I say, pounding on the door.

  There’s nothing, only silence.

  Defeated, I drag my feet to my car and sit in it. In my daze, I can’t even turn the engine on. The only place I want to go is back inside with Skye.

  I send a text.

  Talk to me.

  Leave me alone, I have to get on with my life.

  I need you in my life.

  I don’t belong in your life.

  The door doesn’t open again, even after twenty minutes. Reluctantly, I switch my car on. In the slowest speed any Maserati has ever gone, I back out of the driveway.

  Becoming Taylor Swift

  (Skye)

  Tears flow from my eyes as I bury my face in my pillow. After I sent the last text to Lawson, I turn off my phone. I don’t want to read his messages. And I certainly don’t want to speak to him on the phone.

  My heart is crushing in my chest, enough that I worry I might actually die. If this is what it feels like to break up with someone, then I’m glad I didn’t date in high school or college. This pain is unbearable.

  I’m so angry at myself for allowing myself to date someone like Lawson. I should’ve known from the start that it was a bad idea. What is someone like me, a poor artist, ever going to offer a billionaire? It could only ever end in nothing but heartache for me.

  How could I let myself get in the middle of Lawson and Kelso? To be a stupid little pawn in their billionaire game?

  Lesson learned. From now on, I will stay far away from anyone who isn’t like me. If
I can’t find a poor, starving artist I can identify with, then I’d rather be alone.

  But that doesn’t make the pain that I’m feeling right now hurt any less.

  Lying on my bed is only making things worse. There’s nothing to distract me, and right now I need to be distracted.

  I drag my feet down the hall into my studio. The earrings on the tree painting is still waiting to be finished. Gordon is pressuring me for more paintings to sell, and I can easily get this finished by the end of the day for him.

  After preparing all my paints and putting on my smock, I stand in front of the painting.

  Nothing.

  I try sitting down in front of the painting.

  Still nothing.

  This isn’t something I’ve experienced before. It’s a complete absence of any feeling other than hurt and pain. I can’t bring myself to touch the painting like this, I’d ruin it.

  I sit for a few moments, staring at the painting and looking around the room. Tears are about to start flowing again but I bite them back.

  Without thinking, I spring from my seat and set aside the mostly finished painting in the next room. I put three fresh, blank canvases on the three easels and pick up my brush.

  If ever I had a need for an outlet, this is it.

  Fuelled with hurt, anger and pain, I fling paint at the canvases. I scrape blacks and browns and blues over them, each color a representation of my emotion.

  My arms work furiously, not caring if the paint lands on the canvas, floor or wall. Even the windows become flecked with paint.

  I’m busy chucking reds at the canvases when Ava opens the door.

  “What’s happening? I’d think you were taking your painting in a new direction, but the look on your face tells a different story.”

  My tears had drained ages ago, but I’m sure their streaks still stain my face.

  “I broke up with Lawson.” My voice is flat, monotonous, as if the three new paintings sucked up anything that was left of my soul.

  “Oh honey, I’m sorry.”

  Ava moves across the room and stands at my side. She puts her arms up to hug me before taking them away again. I look down at myself, there’s as much paint on me as there is on the canvases.