To Need A Billionaire (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (The Billionaire's Baby Book 2)

by Claire,Ava

  She patted my hand with hers and sipped her water. “I believe I understand your meaning. My apologies if I seem a little sensitive. I'm still a little raw from the interview.”

  I scooted a little closer to the table, furrowing my brow. I'd listened to the recording this morning and everything seemed to go off without a hitch. Angelique was charming, playful, and engaging. Even the DJ shared that he 'doesn't do foreign movies' and was looking forward to making Train his first. “What happened?”

  “Oh, it's nothing serious.” She propped her chin on her palm, strategically avoiding my gaze and contradicting that it wasn't serious. “He just asked me what everyone seems to ask me these days.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “‘Ms. Entoine, why did you become an actress?’.”

  I locked my jaw, saying a silent prayer of thanks that she'd spoken first, preventing me from asking her that very question. “Ah, I see. What about that question bothers you?”

  Her eyes fell to the table and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “When I was little, five years old, pig tails, gap teeth-” She paused and shuddered, though I knew she must have been the cutest little thing. “I had this gold fish. His name was Mario and I cared for him like I was the one that brought him into this world. I kept his bowl cleaner than I kept my room. I saved up my money to buy him the best food and little toys that he basically ignored. He was my pride and joy.

  One morning I woke up and he was dead.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that, my best friend was gone. I flew to my parents bedroom, water sloshing all over the floor, tears streaming down my face. 'Maman! Papa! Mario is dead!' And I remember as clearly as if it was yesterday that my father snatched the bowl from my arms and threw it across the room.”

  My jaw dropped, my heart breaking for a little girl who was grieving her pet and instead of consoling her, her father just further traumatized her.

  A smile crept onto her lips and something about it made my stomach flip flop. “My father was trying to teach me a lesson, Leila. An important lesson. I was inconsolable, in shock, not unlike you are now when you misinterpret my father's strength for cruelty.

  He pulled me onto his lap, wiped my tears, and said, 'Ang, you can't move forward if you are stuck in the past. Keep your eyes forward.' And those are words I live by.” She ghosted her fingers along her collarbone and added, “Words I try to live by. So when I hear that question, I feel like I am being forced to look behind me. To look at a past that, shall we say, is more colorful than the people who are asking that question really want to hear.” She raised her chin and I pictured a five year old Angelique standing tall, holding back her tears, being brave for her father. “I do not focus on the past. My eyes are trained on the future.”

  I leaned back in my seat, studying her. She was doing her best to seem unaffected. Hard as stone. Even before Jacob, I was good at discerning when someone was putting on a show to hide what was beneath. Beneath that ethereal pale skin, intense blue eyes, and a jawline that was sharp enough to draw blood was a woman that seemed terrified. A question as simple as why she chose to go into her chosen career shouldn't be enough to raise the defenses. The story from her childhood, combined with her outright confession that she had a 'colorful past' painted a picture that didn't line up with someone that had it all together. To me, it signified someone with deep scars and a hurt that haunted them to this day. A savvy reporter would pick up on the tick beneath her eye when she stifled her true answer and rattled off talking points. A perfectly packaged response that was complete bullshit.

  “Would you like a little bit of unsolicited advice?” I asked tentatively.

  She flashed her teeth, leaning in excitedly. “Absolutely.”

  “There is some wisdom in not dwelling on the past. It's done, and there's no changing it.” I wet my lips, my own issues with the past and letting go ringing in my head. “I know better than most that it's easy to pack all the ugliness away and drop it into the deepest ocean, never to be seen or heard of again.”

  She nodded solemnly, her eyes storming with emotion before she sniffed and put her smile back on. “I knew we were kindred spirits.”

  And I knew my next words could make her regret that statement, but I pressed on. Fans were there to lift you up and see the best in you. If I was to be effective, and the publicist that she deserved, I couldn't water down the true message. I couldn't mince words and blow smoke up her ass and get her where she needed to be: strong, vulnerable, and able to face whatever and whomever came her way.

  “The past is not some evil to be defeated or a weak voice to be snuffed out, conquered, or ignored.” My voice grew stronger by the second, my words ringing true and emboldening me. “There are lessons to be learned from the past, powerful things we can discover about ourselves and others. That's how we move forward. That's how we grow.” And what your dad did to you when you were five breaks my heart...and clearly still haunts you all these years later, disproving your theory that the past is irrelevant.

  I kept the last bit to myself and when I watched a shadow fall over her face, I knew it was a wise choice.

  Victor reappeared, burgers in tow, offering a much needed reprieve from whatever was brewing in her steely glare.

  “Two burgers and fries, for the two most beautiful women in the room,” he flirted, grinning from ear to ear.

  I struggled to pretend that our business lunch hadn't gone ice cold. It didn’t take a detective to figure out Angelique was likely regretting listening to my advice...and signing up as a Whitmore and Creighton client.

  She was right—it was the best burger in the city.

  Chapter Ten

  I paused before I pushed inside Jack's Cafe, fingers wrapping around the door handle, wondering if I'd lost my mind.

  Considering it had barely been twenty four hours since the train wreck lunch with Angelique, where the chatty and charming woman went dead silent while she eviscerated her burger and answered me in grunts and single syllables, I had to be insane to think that rounding up the two mothers would fare any better.

  It had started off innocently enough, with my mother reminding me that we were long overdue for a day date in the city. When I told her to pick a time and place and I'd be there, she'd responded with 'tomorrow, that cafe with the honey buns, and invite Alicia.'

  I didn't have the heart to tell her I was swamped at work, nor was I in the mood to endure the guilt trip when she reminded me that she missed her only child dearly, but I did have to verify that exhaustion wasn't making me hear things.

  She'd answered in her usual dramatic fashion, telling me she watched a program on television where two mothers connected by marriage went at it until the daughter stuck in the middle had a stroke and died.

  Died, Leila. Do you think I want you to die?

  I'd convinced her to turn off the TV and assured her I had no plans to check out anytime soon, and verified, one more time, that she wanted me to invite Alicia.

  Her arch nemesis.

  The woman I hadn't seen since the text and awkward sex debacle.

  I rubbed my tummy and straightened my spine, repeating all the things I’d conquered as I strode into the cafe. America's sweetheart, hellbent on destroying my relationship. Missy Diaz, who made my uncomfortableness a full time job. An actor I used to plaster on my wall (who tried to plaster himself on my body) until he let go and found love. Being kidnapped and threatened with real danger by a teenager and Jacob's long, lost brother. An international criminal who'd gone eerily quiet after Jacob and Cole dealt a massive blow to his enterprise.

  I puffed out my chest a little bit. If I could handle all that, I could survive another lunch that was sure to bring even more drama into my life.

  I focused on the saccharine scent that flooded my nostrils and not the nerves that twisted and knotted my stomach. Even if Jack’s Cafe didn't make the most delicious, high caloric food in the city, it would be worth the trip to midtown for the experience alone. The main space was flooded with natural light,
a variety of shapes and sizes letting the sunshine in. Combined with the heavy duty ovens in the back that cranked out incredible baked fare, the room should have rivaled the temperature of a sauna. Instead, every window was cracked open, letting in a breeze and the frenzied hum of the city. Black and gold cafe tables and high back chairs speckled the floor, the plates and mugs as bright as the technicolor t-shirts the staff wore. Even the bakers rocked a rainbow of chef shirts and hats. Part of the novelty was that customers could watch them spin and work the dough, creating the food the waiters whisked to the tables.

  I swept my curls behind my ears, practicing my grin when I realized that everyone was busy stuffing their faces and watching pizza dough fly—except my mother and Alicia. They were currently ignoring each other entirely, eyes burning into their phone screens.

  At least they're not duking it out with rolling pins, I thought glumly. I almost shivered when I saddled up to the table, the air around them frosty and uncomfortable. They were both so fixated on giving each other the cold shoulder that I had to loudly pull back a chair to wrench their gazes from the devices in their hands.

  “Leila!” My mother leapt from her chair, her face going from 'this was a terrible mistake' to 'thank God I'm not alone with this woman anymore' in two seconds flat.

  She was a far cry from the bright, carefree, happy woman from the shower. She looked like she was fresh from the office too, her salt and pepper hair pulled into a French bun. She wore a pale pink and blue blouse and navy slacks with heels that vaulted her a few inches taller than me. She hugged me tight then pulled back to fondle my belly, complete with a few moments of baby talk. A curtain fell over her face when Alicia rose up to greet me as well.

  I glanced back and forth between the two women and realized that my mother, who only whipped out her leather patent heels on Sundays, was wearing the heels so she could look Alicia dead in the eye.

  I cautioned a glance at Alicia, the blush I couldn't escape capturing my entire face. The last words I'd said to her were, “Be right back!” and the last thing she'd heard was...well...

  I braced myself for a snarky comment about how vocal I'd been the other night, a stark contrast to my current silence, but Alicia’s ruby red lips just pulled into a cordial smile.

  “Hello, Leila.”

  I stood like a deer in headlights as she leaned in and air kissed both my cheeks. We had a routine; the way we did things. She was even draped in her usual garb. Her royal purple dress was accented with gray Tahitian pearl earrings and charcoal gray stilettos that brought out her cloud colored eyes. Her newly golden locks were held back by a slender metallic headband that softened her hawklike features. And yet, she wasn't scowling at me. She saved that for my mother, before she lowered herself back to her seat.

  I cleared my throat with a tiny cough, glancing at their empty plates and cups. “You guys didn't have to wait for me to start the party.”

  Mom let out a scoff. “Funny, Alicia suggested the same thing. You'd think all that money would buy her some fancy manners.”

  “I didn't have breakfast and merely commented that a croissant would be delicious,” Alicia corrected, with a scoff of her own.

  “Honey, you clearly haven't had a meal in days,” Mom egged her on, shaking her head like she was both concerned and disgusted. “I'm surprised the wind didn't carry you back up the hill to that fancy estate.” She leaned in toward me, nudging me with her shoulder. “I guess it helps when your chauffeur drives you into the city, opens your door, and ushers you inside like a celebrity.”

  I reared back, gaping at my mother like she'd lost her mind. “I didn't take time out of my day to watch you two go at each other, Mom.”

  “And I didn't rearrange my schedule to be insulted,” Alicia snarled, snatching her arms across her chest in a way that reminded me of Jacob, when he was in one of his moods.

  “It must be so hard being waited on all day and flit around, spending someone else's hard earned money,” Mom said without missing a beat.

  “Enough!” I admonished her. I pleaded with my eyes, the aching things practically bulging from my skull so she could see that she was working every single one of my nerves. I was no fan of Alicia's, but my mother was being downright mean and combative. Wasn't this whole thing her idea anyway?

  I got further confirmation that it was gonna be one of those days. Our waiter shuffled to our table solemnly. He didn’t even look up from his pad. “My name is Skylar, thanks for coming in.” He was as friendly as a meter maid who could care less that you were literally about to add extra time as they gave you a ticket. “What can I get for you?”

  I was content to walk right past his grumpy greeting, ignoring the fact it directly contradicted his bright yellow t-shirt. It proclaimed in big white letters that he wanted us to have a great day.

  My mother, unfortunately, was not.

  “Did your girlfriend break up with you or something?” she asked brusquely, giving him a disgusted once over. “Jesus Christ, what happened to good service?”

  “Mom!” I hissed, turning back to Skylar to apologize. “I'm sorry, I think we're still deci-”

  “I'll give you a few minutes.” He turned on his heels, basically making me regret my apology.

  Alicia tossed her napkin on the table with a bitter chuckle. “Fine restaurant we picked for this little soirée.”

  I held out both hands, officially done with them both. “I don't know what's going on, but I am out of here if you two don't tell me what's up.”

  Both women just glared at each other, waiting for the other to confess.

  I whipped my head to the left, eyeballing the woman who gave me life and was officially about to give me some strands of gray too. “Mom?”

  She jutted out her bottom lip. “Ask her.” She spat out the 'her' like it was poison, pointing her disdain across the table at Alicia.

  “I'm not asking her, I'm asking-” I stopped mid sentence, sighing. “Fine.” I gave my mother-in-law my attention and ire, trying to siphon the annoyance from my voice. It was clear that everyone, me included, were annoyed. Further pissing anyone off wasn't the answer. “Alicia, can you please tell me what's going on? You two were getting along so well the last time we were all together.”

  Alicia's dark brow practically touched the ceiling. “You mean after your mother threatened to-” She clenched her jaw, zeroing in on my mother. “How did you put it, Cheryl?” She wasn't really asking for audience participation. “That you were going to 'beat my ass six ways to Sunday if I didn't play nice’?” Her jaw tightened, much like the arms across her chest. “You're right, Leila—we were all one big, happy family. At least The Whitmores had the class to not indulge in petty threats.”

  “The folks on the right side of the tracks just smile in your face and gossip about you behind your back,” Mom sneered.

  “Enough,” I groaned, realizing that I was wasting my time trying to get to the bottom of anything. They'd just keep trying to one up each other until someone said something truly vicious that there was no coming back from. Jacob and I weren't even divorced and I was picturing our little one asking why they had to have two of everything.

  Answer: because your grandmas couldn't be in the same room without heads rolling.

  I gripped the side of the table and pushed back with a screech. There was no service, no honeybun that I’d planned to scarf down with no shame, and no reason they needed me here to throw barbs at each other. “I'm going back to the-”

  “Leila wait,” Mom cut in, placing her hand over mine. “I'm sorry.”

  I wanted to be as stubborn as they were and hold onto my anger, but it was easier said than done when I saw the remorse weaving in and out of my mother's eyes. I wasn't foolish enough to think any of that had Alicia's name on it, especially when her nostrils flared as Alicia presented her olive branch.

  “I'm sorry too.”

  I kept my eyes on my mom, narrowing them as she struggled to bite her tongue. She was dying to make a reto
rt and get in the last word. That stubbornness was something we all had in common, and that we all had to let go of if any of this was gonna work.

  Like he could sense that we'd cut the right wire and avoided catastrophe, Skylar tiptoed back to our table. He still wasn't smiling, his face as stiff as his bleached blond, spiky hair, but he at least looked ready to take our order.

  We all ordered honey buns and lattes (tea for me), and my mother managed to keep any rude, unnecessary comments about her surprise at Alicia picking something so decadent to herself.

  I wasn't letting her completely off the hook. Or Alicia. I sized them both up, leaning back with my arms crossed like I was the parent and they were the children with some explaining to do. “Somebody fill me in.”

  My mother looked genuinely dejected, picking at her napkin glumly. “I suppose I can do the honors. I'm sure Alicia will jump in if necessary, or not.”

  I rolled my eyes. She just couldn't help herself. “Okay.”

  Like a light switch, my mother went from cloudy with a chance of tornadoes to a bright and sunny summer day. “As you know, I organized this lunch. I wanted you both here for your input on a very important event.”

  “An important event?” I repeated with a frown at her vagueness.

  “Mmhm,” she confirmed with a solemn nod. “One of the most important events for an infant.”

  I flicked my eyes between the two of them, looking for some clue. My mother was no help at all, practically aghast that I had no idea what she was talking about. Alicia didn't give anything away at all. I figured nothing was better than snarling, so I just settled back in my chair and hoped Mom would spell it out soon because the suspense was giving me a headache.