The Billionaire and the Waitress

by Lacy Andersen

  The wrinkles in Henry’s forehead smoothed and he watched her for a long moment before frowning deeply. “I fed you, put a roof over your head, sent you to the best schools available. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

  Rachel felt as if her heart was going to burst from her chest and flop and die on the floor right there. Her worst suspicions were true. Her father didn’t know what love was. He lived in a world where wealth and competition ruled. Where your children added to your numerous assets or they were discarded as useless. It would’ve been the same type of life with Logan. A sad, cold, unfeeling life. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to get out of there.

  “I’d like to say it was good to see you, Dad, but I’d be lying,” she said through her teeth. Turning toward another exit, she gave him one last, hard look. “One day, I hope you realize all that you’ve missed. What you could’ve had.”

  She made it two steps down the hall before her father’s voice halted her in her tracks.

  “Take care of yourself, Rachel.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. There was so much more she wanted to tell him, but now was not the time. She needed to peel this dress off of her and crawl into some warm pajamas and forget about the rest of the world. Shaking off the feeling, she continued her retreat, the sound of her heels clicking in her wake.

  LOGAN LED MICHAEL OUTSIDE and into the darkened lawn behind Whitmore Mansion, under the soft yellow glow of an old-fashioned lamp post. If they were going to have this conversation, they were going to have it away from the masses of potential Madison Park customers inside the ballroom.

  “I’m going to ask you one more time and I expect a straight answer.” Michael had one finger pointed at him and the other hand shoved deep into his tux pocket. “What did you do to my sister?”

  “Nothing.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not sure why she was so upset in there. I need to go find her and see what’s going on.”

  “No, no, no.” Michael shook his head, his lips curving into a frown. “You’re going to explain exactly what she meant by saying I quit us. Have you been seeing my baby sister behind my back?”

  It felt like a bucket of cold water dropped on his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the right words to pop into his head at any moment. This was exactly what he’d been dreading and the reason why his brain had been screaming at him not to get involved with Rachel. Michael was his oldest friend. He’d betrayed him.

  “She and I came to the gala together,” he said in a low voice, drawing out each word. “It was our second date. We were going to tell you tonight. I swear, Michael. I wasn’t trying to go behind your back.”

  Michael took a step back and let out an exasperated sigh. Anger burned in his eyes. “But you did. I asked you to protect her. To keep her from getting distracted. She was doing so well and now she’s quit. All because you couldn’t control your urges. I thought you were better than that.”

  “That’s not fair.” Logan advanced toward him, his hands splay out to his sides. “I tried to fight it, all right? Tried to keep her at arms’ length. But these last few weeks, Rachel and I grew close. There’s something about her. We really get each other.” He punched at empty air, remembering Rachel’s recent outburst. “At least, I thought we got each other. Now, I’m not sure what’s going on. Everything is collapsing in on itself.”

  Michael studied him for a long time, stuffing both his hands in his pockets. Logan stayed silent and begged him with his eyes to consider his side. He hadn’t meant to cause any problems. It was just a date. A harmless date. If you could even call it that.

  There were bars constricting around his heart at that moment. It seemed like he might lose both Michael and Rachel in the same night. He wasn’t sure he could handle it.

  “I can’t do this right now,” Michael said, finally breaking the silence. He shook his head, the lines around his mouth deepening in disappointment. “You’re not the friend I thought you were. I need to go take Emily home.”

  “Michael, wait...”

  Logan’s feet felt glued to the ground as he watched his best friend retreat back into the ballroom. When he was gone, he kicked at the ground, uttering a string of curses. How had this gone so wrong? He was supposed to be gaining Michael’s approval, not losing his friendship. And Rachel was supposed to be by his side, not running away in tears. How could he have screwed this up so badly?

  “Those are dirty words from such a golden boy,” said a voice in the darkness with a harsh laugh. “If only people knew.”

  Logan spun around to see Darren sitting on an iron bench, hidden by the darkness. The red glow of a cigarette butt in his hands was the only thing that shed light on his face.

  “Not now,” Logan growled. He wasn’t going to take any of Darren’s merciless badgering, especially with the events of tonight.

  “Oh, golden boy has a temper, too.” Darren barked a laugh and took a puff on the cigarette. “Did your little girlfriend see right through you? It didn’t take much to make her see, I’ll tell you what. Just needed to shed a little light on the situation to make her see the real you.”

  Logan felt the blood drain from his face. “What are you talking about? What did you do?” He’d known Darren was getting drunk fast tonight, but he hadn’t realized he would go to such lengths as to approach Rachel. He gripped his hands in tight fists and took a step closer. “What did you say to her?”

  “Nothing but the truth.” Darren pushed off the bench, stumbling a little as he stepped into the lamp light. His eyes were blurry and red, his cheeks flushed. “Just that you care about money more than anything else in this world. Isn’t that right, golden boy? Can’t accept the fact that you’re trailer trash. Got to have your billions and eat your pie, too. Well, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

  Logan would’ve liked nothing more than to punch some sense into his friend’s thick skull at that moment, but something kept his arms clenched at his sides. He’d bonded with Darren not long after joining the San Francisco Ray’s because of their similar pasts. Darren had been a trailer park kid, too, but with a single mom and two little sisters.

  Instead of saving and investing the money he’d made through professional ball, he’d squandered it away on parties, fancy homes he couldn’t afford, and friends who didn’t stick around after the money had gone. It was clear he was bitter. Now that baseball and the money were gone, his past had come full swing and entered his future.

  But drunk Darren wasn’t the same as his sober friend, Darren. They were two different people, crying out for help in opposite ways. No matter how much he hated drunk Darren at that moment, he knew that in the morning, sober Darren would hate himself even more.

  “I’m going to call you a cab,” Logan whispered between his teeth. “And then you’re going to go home, sleep this off, and figure out exactly why you did what you did tonight. I’ve been nothing but a friend to you all these years. I didn’t deserve this.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things you don’t deserve.” Darren tilted a little too far to his left and had to use the lamppost to keep himself from falling over. He squinted at Logan and flicked the cigarette. “Starting with that girl. She’s too good for you.”

  “On that, we can agree.” Logan gave him one last look over. “Get yourself together, Darren. And maybe, someday, you’ll find that piece of your soul that you’re missing.”

  He hurried off toward the ballroom, desperate to find a trace of Rachel. It was all starting to make sense now. She’d mentioned more than once how her father had been distant, only caring about his business. If Darren had made it sound like the only thing that mattered to him was money, of course she would’ve freaked out. She didn’t want to relive her childhood or become her mother — married to a man who only wanted her for her money. Those scars were far too fresh.

  They needed to talk this out. He needed to make this right. But by the time he searched every room of the Whitmore Mansion, there was no tra
ce left of Rachel. She’d vanished from the party, along with her brother and his fiancée. Logan stood outside the grand entryway, feeling entirely alone.

  Would he ever be able to fix this?

  Chapter Twelve

  Logan rubbed a weary eye and took a sip of his fifth cup of coffee that day. The lunch hour rush was over, but Mary Prescott was still seated at her little table, delicately making her way through the eggplant Parmesan. Her team of cameramen worked around her, getting shots of her eating and smiling. He’d tried to keep his attention focused on her company the entire time, but he couldn’t deny that his heart was elsewhere.

  Mostly, it was focused on the phone in his pocket, praying for a reply to the dozen or so texts he’d sent Rachel last night. So far, no news. She’d gone off the radar and completely cut him off, leaving a dull pain in his chest.

  Putting on his best smile, he grabbed a carefully sliced piece of lemon creme cake and approached the table. Mary looked up at him as he set the plate in front of her, her red-painted lips tilting into a flirtatious expression.

  “Sit awhile, Mr. Logan. I could use some delicious company to accompany this delicious fare.”

  His smile deepened and he took the empty seat across from her. He’d been quite unnerved the first moment he met Mary Prescott, but her southern charm and flirtations had grown on him. She was a woman who said what she thought, no holds barred. It was refreshing, once he got used to it.

  “I hope you’ve enjoyed your meal,” he said. “And your time in San Jose.”

  “Oh, it’s been delightful.” She dabbed delicately at her lips with the linen napkin. “Every time I come to California, I’m reminded of what a great place it is. Not as wonderful as Texas, mind you. But a close second.”

  She winked, then slid the lemon cake in front of her, sinking her fork into the spongy surface. Logan watched her take a bite, remembering Rachel’s love for the same dessert. If he knew where she lived, he’d send her a thousand lemon creme cakes with a thousand roses in the hopes that it would get her to talk to him. Heck, he’d give her the jet, the Lamborghini, anything in the hopes of a redo that didn’t involve Darren’s lies and him stuffing his foot in his mouth.

  But Rachel wasn’t that kind of girl, and that was something that he loved about her.

  “Now, if this isn’t sweeter than stolen honey,” Mary murmured as she swallowed a bit of the cake. “I have to say, darling, you’ve got yourself a wonderful settlement here.”

  Logan’s lips twitched in a brief smile. Just days ago, those had been the words he’d thought would make his whole life. But now, they didn’t quite carry the weight he thought they would.

  Mary put down her fork, her eyes narrowing. She tucked her bouncy black hair behind one ear and gave him a concerned expression. “What’s wrong, sugar? You haven’t been yourself since I walked in this door. Are you having trouble with that sweet little brunette girlfriend of yours?”

  Logan’s chin snapped back, alarms sounding in his head. It wouldn’t be professional of him to go into his personal problems with the very person who could make or break his restaurant, but Mary Prescott seemed to know everything without even asking. There couldn’t be any harm in simply laying out his problems. And he didn’t really have anyone else to talk to at the moment. Not with Michael hating him and Darren recovering from his recent destructive binge.

  “She’s not speaking to me right now,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His eyes drilled into hers, pleading for some sort of advice. “Someone told her that all I care about is money and fitting in with the elite. She grew up with a cold and distant father, who’s only goal in life was to increase his fortune, and I think that freaked her out. It all kind of imploded.”

  Mary pursed her red lips, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses. “And do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Only care about money and fitting in with the elite?” she asked, resting her chin on her hands.

  “Of course not!” Logan inhaled sharply through his nose. “I grew up in a trailer home and I’m not ashamed of it. But I have always felt like I didn’t belong with the other rich kids because of it. And this restaurant was sort of my way of finally belonging.”

  Mary hummed her understanding as she nodded along. “So, you do care about fitting in with the elite?”

  He rubbed the side of his head and furrowed his brow in frustration. “Well, yes, I guess. But not to the point of forsaking real friendship or love for it. I’d give up my billions in a heartbeat if that was the only way for me to find true love. I’d gladly live in another trailer home, if it meant she and I could be together.”

  “Have you told the girl that?” Mary arched one black eyebrow, the small wrinkles around her mouth deepening. “I’d assume she’d want to hear it.”

  “No, she won’t return my calls.” He silently cursed the phone in his pocket, willing it to vibrate.

  “Then I suggest you find another way to contact her,” she answered with a grin, leaning back in her seat. “Don’t give up now.”

  He stared at the tablecloth, letting her words sink into his brain.

  “And I’d suggest you find it sooner rather than later,” she added with a flourish of her fork, “because son, I’ve never seen someone hit with the love bug so hard. Your long face is sad enough to bring a tear to a glass eye. Find the girl and return a smile to that chiseled jaw of yours or else I might just have to drop your restaurant a star in my rating.”

  Logan jumped up from the table, his heart pattering with new-found courage as he muttered out his thanks. Mary Prescott was right. He was giving up too easily. If he couldn’t find Rachel, he certainly knew someone else who could lead him to her. Michael’s office was just a few blocks away in the business district. He’d march over there and force him to see just how much he cared about Rachel.

  And then Michael would have to help him find her.

  “You hurry your sweet buns after her, you hear me?” Mary called after him, laughing madly. “And don’t forget to call me if it doesn’t work out between the two of you.”

  RACHEL GRUMBLED TO herself as she rode the elevator of Linex Investments standing next to a silent man dressed all in black, his hands clasped in front of him. When the doors slid open, he gestured for her to go ahead. She didn’t need his direction. She was already striding down the hallway with long, angry steps and didn’t stop until she burst through the door of a familiar corner office.

  “Michael, I don’t appreciate being summoned to your office by your manservant,” she blustered, throwing her hands in the air.

  Her brother glanced coolly at her, his ear pressed to his phone. Holding up a finger, he said his goodbyes to whoever was on the other end. Rachel crossed her arms and impatiently tapped the toe of her yellow kitten heels, glancing around at the massive expanse of Michael’s plush office.

  Despite the terrible aching in her head that morning, she’d managed to throw on a pair of tight black jeans and a lightweight yellow cardigan in the hopes of getting out on the town to hunt down her next job. She’d show Michael and her father just how strong she was.

  Even though her heart felt like it was dying.

  Michael hung up the phone and gazed at her above his steepled fingers. “For the record, Thomas isn’t my manservant. He’s my driver. And I asked him to bring you here so that we could talk face-to-face about last night.”

  Rachel blinked up at the ceiling, her chin trembling. “You don’t have to lecture me. I know you’re disappointed. I’m a complete embarrassment to the Knight name.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” Michael’s frown deepened. He rose from his high-backed leather chair and rounded the enormous desk. “I was going to ask if you’re okay. You seemed awfully upset.”

  She closed her eyes against the stinging tears that threatened to fall. It was true, she’d been upset. Darren had spoken to her like a devil on her shoulder, whispering doubts into her ear. All her insecurities had come roaring
to the surface and resulted in one, embarrassing public display in front of the man she was supposed to trust.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said, opening her eyes. Her brother stood in front of her, concern etched into the lines on his face. “I liked him, Michael. We grew really close over the last few weeks. I thought there was something different about him. But turns out, he’s the same as any other guy chasing his fortune. Except for you.”

  Michael grabbed both her upper arms and squeezed gently. “So you were seeing Logan?”

  “Only for a moment.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “We were going to tell you last night. Ask for your permission. Seems so silly now.”

  He sighed and turned away, the muscles in his jaw working. Her heart broke just a little bit as she watched the struggle in his face. She’d been adamant that Michael didn’t control her life, and it was true, but he was still her big brother. She’d always crave his approval.

  “Listen, Dad dropped this off in my office this morning,” he said, sliding a blank white envelope off his desk and handing it to her.

  She gave him a questioning look and slowly opened the unsealed flap. Inside was a first-class ticket to Paris and a check written to her for an obscene amount of money. She gasped, her hand covering her mouth, and then tried to shove the envelope back into Michael’s hands.

  “I can’t accept this,” she said angrily. “I won’t.”

  “Just do me a favor. Take it and think it over,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Dad said he also pulled some strings and got you into Christian Dior’s spring lineup shoot. There should be enough money in there to help you get settled in the meantime. I know you’re not Dad’s biggest fan, but he just wants you to find something to succeed at. In a weird way, this is his way of telling you he loves you.”

  Frustrated tears clogged her throat. As much as she hated taking even a cent of their father’s money, she had to admit that Paris sounded beautiful at that moment. A couple months ago, she would’ve died to be in a Christian Dior shoot. It was everything she’d ever wanted.