Beauty and the Billionaire

by Claire Adams

  "Oh, your phone's buzzing," my mother said. "I'm just going to run upstairs and get an aspirin." She disappeared up the staircase, and I had the sinking feeling I would not see her again for too long.

  I looked at my phone and saw Owen's name. I froze. Part of me wanted to throw my phone across the room. Wouldn't life be simpler without Owen? I wondered. The majority of me, including my leaping heart, knew that Owen would always be the one part of my life I could count on no matter how messy things got.

  "Hello?" I asked.

  "Quinn, is there any way you can come over? The cops are here again and I feel like I need someone to be my witness," Owen said.

  "The cops are at your apartment again?" I asked. I slid reluctantly off my stool and looked up the stairs after my mother. "Shouldn't you call a lawyer, instead?"

  "Yes. I don't know. I don't know how to handle this. They're not finding anything and I don't want to blow it out of proportion. It would just feel better if I had someone here on my side. Besides, your father is a lawyer. You'll probably understand all this legal talk better than me."

  I promised I would leave soon and went to the foot of the stairs. "Mom? Are you okay?"

  "Just tired, darling. I think I'll turn in," she called down, her voice fuzzy.

  "Do you mind if I run out? I'll call Father and let him know," I said.

  "Sure, sure," her voice disappeared and I heard her bedroom door shut.

  I was relieved to get my father's voicemail. I told him I was running out to the store to grab a few things and would be home soon. Then, I drove as quickly as I could to Owen's apartment and found three squad cars parked haphazardly outside his building.

  #

  I found Owen pacing the hallway outside his apartment.

  "Are you okay?" I asked. I peeked around him into the open door. Four uniformed police officers were systematically searching every inch of his apartment.

  "No. I'm not okay. I know you're not going to want to hear this, but I have a theory about why this is happening," Owen said.

  "Why wouldn't I want to hear your theory?" I crossed my arms and leaned against the hallway wall.

  "Because I think somehow your father is using his connections to create these search warrants and send the cops over here." He saw my face and held up his hands. "Hey, I said you didn't want to hear it, but think about it. He doesn't want me around you. He'd be happy to discredit me in any way possible."

  "That doesn't mean he would stoop to illegal measures," I said.

  "That's why I think it makes sense that it’s him. He can do all of this and make it seem perfectly legal," Owen said.

  I ran both hands through my hair and had to strain not to pull any out. "So, you brought me over here to throw me in the middle of some psychotic made-up dispute between you and my father?" I asked.

  Owen stopped pacing and pried my hands off my head. "No. And it’s not psychotic. Your father blames me for a lot of things, now more than ever."

  "He can't blame you for me quitting my nursing program. And even if he did, this would make no sense as retaliation," I said.

  "I don't think it’s about the nursing program," Owen said. He bit his lip.

  "You mean you think this is about what happened with Sienna? He blames you for her death?" I pulled away. "Look, Owen, this isn't what I needed tonight. I'm sorry this is happening to you, but I am certain it has nothing to do with my father."

  He caught my hands and pulled me back. "You're right, I know. I'm sorry. I just have no idea who else would be after me like this."

  "Didn't we already talk about it and you thought it could be another player literally trying to throw you off your game?" I asked. "Or, to counter your insane accusation of my father, why don't I point out that it could very well be Anya. A little jealousy might go a long way. She seems like the type that would pay a powerful lawyer."

  Owen looked as if he had swallowed a tack and then he cleared his throat. "But the first time happened before Anya started acting jealous, so it couldn't be her. And I'm sorry to mention your father, but it could be possible."

  I was glad when the police filed out of the apartment because it stopped us talking. They walked by without even speaking to Owen, so it was obvious they did not find what they were looking for inside. It took three whole minutes of pounding silence before either of us moved to enter the now-abandoned apartment.

  "Do you have any idea what they were looking for?" I asked. "Last time they brought in a K-9, right? They're searching for drugs?"

  "Yes," Owen said. He came inside and shut the door firmly behind him. "Someone must be tipping them off that I'm using drugs."

  "So, it makes sense if it’s one of your neighbors, doesn't it?" I asked.

  "I've never had any issues with my neighbors. I'm on a first name basis with everyone, including the landlord," Owen said. "The only complaint I've ever heard was that we get a lot of visitors."

  "What did you say to that?"

  "I pointed out that Jasper and I were both young, single men with active social lives. It was a reasonable explanation," Owen said.

  I tried to lighten the mood. "So, you had a steady stream of interesting visitors, huh?" I wagged my eyebrows at Owen, but he was not amused.

  "Friends, gamers, and people Jasper works with," he said. "They were never loud or stomping around at inconsiderate hours."

  "So, regular friends. Except for the random clients and freelancers that Jasper brings by, right?" I asked. "You once told me you had not seen him with the same person twice for a month."

  "Yeah." Owen shrugged. "Jasper meets a lot of people."

  "And, they never stay around for long, do they?" I asked. "They hang out here for a bit and then head off to a bar or somewhere, right? Do you ever go with them to the bar?"

  "It’s not really my scene," Owen said.

  "So, you don't know if he goes off and actually hangs out with these people or if they just leave at the same time?"

  "What are you getting at?"

  "Well, from the outside, it would be easy to think you or Jasper were dealing drugs out of your apartment," I said. "A steady stream of ever-changing people that never really stick around for long. I could see that being something I would think if it was happening at my neighbor’s."

  Owen stretched both hands out on the kitchen island and pressed down hard. "I knew it was going to be something like that. No matter what, people are always going to think I smoke marijuana or do drugs just because I play video games. I swear to God, the stereotypes are the worst part about my career. Even at the tournament, I heard over and over again how surprised people were at how I look. They hear gamer and they think stoner wearing sweatpants and hanging out in a basement."

  "So, you think some neighbor found out what you do for a living and just assumed you must be a drug dealer, too?" I asked. "Think about it, there has to be more to it than that."

  "No, there doesn't, and that's what really bothers me," Owen said.

  "Well, then do something about it," I said. I could not help but be impatient with him. We were just standing around complaining when nothing bad had actually happened to him. Plus, I was working on my own theory that I was shocked he had not even considered.

  "What am I supposed to do about it?" Owen asked.

  "Do an interview talking about stereotypes. Write a blog post. Get your fellow gamers into a discussion of how negative stereotypes affect them too," I said. "It would give a little balance to the whole 'cops searching your apartment' side of the story."

  Owen leaned further down on the island and buried his head in his hands. "It sounds like you think I need to build up a case to prove I'm innocent."

  "Well, it wouldn't hurt because obviously someone thinks there’s suspicious activity here at your apartment." I reached out and brushed his hair out of his face. "Too bad they don't see everything that goes on here."

  "I'm sorry I accused your father, Quinn. I just feel like someone is out to get me," he said. He stood up an
d joined me on the other side of the kitchen island.

  "Or maybe they are trying to pin it on you," I said. Owen did not take my hint. His hands were too busy sliding around my waist.

  He pulled me in for a fierce hug. "Thank you for coming. I know I'm probably the last person you wanted to see tonight. I thought maybe your father had convinced you I was no good and that made me think I should give you space at the tournament. I didn't mean to ignore your success or make you feel bad."

  "So maybe it wasn't our best day," I said. "Some good came out of it." I wanted to tell him about the rush I felt helping people at the accident scene. I want to confess my idea of becoming an EMT. He could help me sign up for tournaments that paid cash prizes and I would be able to fund the training and certification myself.

  Instead, I hugged him and stayed quiet. Owen's mind was too bogged down in his own problems to hear what I had to say. Sienna used to get like that, distant and absorbed in her own world. I remembered the best way to pull her out was to compliment her. Making her remember all her good traits turned her thoughts around.

  "For one thing, I had the brilliant idea for you to start a new publicity campaign. Changing the stereotypes of gamers is just the sort of thing you would be the perfect poster boy for," I said. "Handsome, fit, living above ground, and not a single pimple to be seen."

  "You'd be better," Owen said. "Young, female, well-educated, well-adjusted, and gorgeous. I know you want to break into the business side of it. Maybe that's just the thing to get you noticed."

  "I'm not sure I need to be noticed by anyone besides you."

  A slow smile curved his lips. "So, you're not mad at me anymore?"

  I traced a teasing circle around his smiling mouth. "Oh, no, I am. But maybe you can think of some way to make it up to me."

  He kissed my fingers and the sensation shot up my arm and tingled down my spine. Owen noticed my shiver of delight and caught my hand. He licked his lips and delivered a light yet sizzling kiss to the tip of each finger in turn.

  Then, he opened the palm of my hand and dropped a warm, lingering kiss in the middle. I felt his tongue swirl a tight circle and the heat of it unfurled something deep in my core.

  "That's all you've got?" I whispered.

  Owen smiled as his blue eyes met mine. I felt the magnetized pull of him, but tried to hold back. The anticipation was like tiny fireworks all along my skin, and I wanted to feel more.

  He brushed my sleeve back and straightened my bare arm. His warm lips traced a light, skimming path up to the crease of my elbow. There, he let his breath and tongue tickle me until I tried to wriggle free. I did not try so hard that he let go though.

  Instead, he reached for the loose neckline of my shirt and pulled it aside. His lips seared the sensitive skin at the side of my neck. I dropped my head to one side, brushing back my hair and baring more for him to devour. Owen took his time tasting my skin, lingering to breathe tingling breaths over the warmth his kisses left behind.

  My knees felt weak and my whole body cried out to press against him, but I still held back. The quiet seduction was mesmerizing and I wanted to reciprocate.

  I traced a hand up his other arm, following it from my waist to his shoulder. There, I flexed my fingers against the taut muscles of his neck. His blue eyes softened at the massage, and he paused in his slow administrations to let me knead away his stress.

  I was still mad at him. Infuriated that no matter what, it was his opinion that mattered most to me. Angry that even as I needed my space, I found myself running to him, pulled so close our breath mingled in gasping anticipation.

  I did not need Owen Redd, I wanted him, and it occurred to me that was the harder habit to break. As if testing my theory, I singed his lips with a kiss full of explosive passion. He was the last thing I needed, but the one thing I wanted most. As my body sang out on every chord, he picked me up and carried me to the couch.

  We were past need or want or the ability to hold back. We undressed each other in a fury to be closer. His warm skin against mine caused a throb of pleasure that almost pushed me over the edge. Desire took over and our bodies clasped together in perfect accordance. Owen pressed into me, his lips catching my cries of pleasure until I could no longer think, only give. He surged forward to claim me, calling my name, and I let go with a blinding starburst of release.

  PART 4

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Owen

  I woke up in my bed and wondered why I was surprised. It felt new and more comfortable than ever before. After the police had tossed the place again, I would have thought it would feel alien. Fresh, clean sheets had not covered the violation the first time. That morning, though, I felt more at home in my room than I had in a very long time. It was strange, but I wanted to hold the sensation as long as possible.

  Then, I rolled over and saw Quinn. Her long chestnut hair poured over her pillow. I lifted my arm and felt the silken waves slip over my skin. Her petal-soft lips smiled in sleep and she snuggled deeper into bed. Her serene expression, the comfortable curl of her body, and the honey-hued expanse of her bare shoulder warmed me.

  I was torn. The morning sun crept towards Quinn's face. Part of me wanted to see her wake with the warm kiss. Part of me wanted to pull the curtains and keep the quiet spell intact. Instead, her chocolate brown eyes fluttered open and focused on me.

  Quinn gave a sleepy smile. "Good morning."

  "It is. Maybe that's why it feels so strange," I said.

  Her long, sinuous stretch tugged at me deep inside. I could not help but pull her in my arms and hold her tight. Her chestnut hair fanned across my chest. Quinn chuckled against my shoulder, and I wondered how loud my heart pounded in her ear.

  "So you slept alright?" I asked.

  "No dreams, no wake ups, it was so peaceful," Quinn said. She ran her hand up my side. "How about you?"

  "Like a miracle. I even forgot about the whole police search thing for a while."

  Quinn groaned. "Oh, now you've brought it up. The least you could have done was wait until we had coffee."

  I let her crawl out of bed and check her phone. Her lips did not form the nervous pucker they normally did. Her calm expression seemed immune to her parents' messages.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Quinn dressed and joined me, an easy smile playing around her lips.

  "I'm glad to see you're not letting your parents get to you," I told her.

  "I don't think they've noticed I'm gone yet," she said. "I've got running clothes in the car. I'll change before I go home."

  I shook my head. "I don't want you to have to sneak around. That doesn't feel right."

  "I won't. Just this morning. I've got a new plan, but like my mother pointed out, it needs to be fully formed before I present it."

  "Is that why you're so relaxed?" I asked. "And here I thought it was me. So, what's the new plan? Want to bounce some ideas off me?"

  Her smile was radiant. I spilled coffee grounds on the counter. As I swept them to the floor with my hand, she settled onto a stool at the kitchen island.

  "I've found something I'm good at, something I can do all on my own. I'm done letting my parents hold my college classes over my head," Quinn said. "This is something I can do just for myself and it will make me independent."

  "No clues?" I asked. "It’s no fair to make that kind of declaration and leave it a mystery. At least tell me where the idea came from?"

  "No," Quinn said. "You'll get jealous, and it’s just not a good look on you."

  I narrowed my eyes. "Alright, I'm already jealous, so now you have to tell me."

  Quinn tossed her hair and laughed. "Maybe. Let me just enjoy this for a little bit."

  I faked a scowl at her and reached for my ringing phone. "Sorry, I have to grab this. It’s my manager. Don't worry, I fully intend to interrogate you after this call."

  "I'm glad you're awake, Owen. We need to talk," my manager said.

  "So, talk, Tann
er. What's up?" I turned on the coffee maker and walked over to the windows.

  "It’s all over the chatrooms – there were cops at your place. People are saying you got busted for drugs and this was not the first time," Tanner said. "What do you need to tell me?"

  "Someone is after me, or messing with me. The cops showed up with a search warrant, but they left empty-handed. I'm clean, so I don't know what is going on."

  "You're clean? You're telling the truth?" Tanner asked.

  "Yes. You know me. Now, what I need to know is who started the rumor," I said.

  "I don't have time for you to go all hacker all over the chatrooms," he objected. "You've got to go in for a voluntary drug test. And I mean today. Like now. We've got to do damage control."

  "Really?" I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  "Yes, really. Your sponsors don't want any drug use tied to them or their products. And you risk losing your spot in the big Dark Flag tournament," Tanner said. "The whole industry fights hard to get distance from the pot-smoking player images."

  "Me too. I'm the one being harassed by the police for that very reason," I said. "Listen, what if I start speaking out about it? Like interviews and blog articles?"

  "Not bad, not bad. But it’s time to take a drug test and get a lawyer. No more cops at your place. Find out where it’s coming from," Tanner said.

  He hung up and I went back to the kitchen. Quinn handed me a full mug of coffee.

  "Is everything alright?" she asked.

  "Oh, sure, yeah. I might lose my sponsors and my spot in the Dark Flag tournament. And I have to go and take a drug test today."

  Quinn put a hand on my cheek. "What can I do?"

  "Let me see you in those little running shorts?" I asked.

  She patted my cheek and went to change.

  After Quinn had gone home, I checked the chatrooms. Tanner had banned me from posting anything even in my own defense. It was hard to see all the speculation, lies, and judgments. I had to leave my computer after only five minutes. It was hard to catch my breath I was so angry.

  "Whoa, somebody lose an elf duel or something?" Jasper asked. He strolled through the front door and tossed his keys on the coffee table.