by Audrey Storm
The paper said. “Lexi this is so you can eat when you are at work, so you can shop when you want to and so you can get what you need when I am busy. If it is ever empty, just text me and I will put more money on it. – D”
Lexi smiled to herself. She could see herself falling in love with this man. She caught herself wondering if there was a chance that she could get him to leave his wife, but quickly forced the thought out of her head. She refused to be the woman on the side that was always trying to break up someone’s marriage. No, she decided that however long this deal lasted she was going to make the best of it. She was not going to let her heart get involved and refused to be hurt, but it was time for her to finally get a break in life and she was going to take full advantage of it.
She hoped that Dan would not bring too many of his friends over, but was also excited when she thought about all of the nice gifts she would be receiving. “Sure,” she thought to herself. “Some might think what I am doing is wrong, but they never slept on a park bench before.” She knew that if others found out about her deal they would call her nothing more than a slut but she knew better. What she was doing was so that she could better her own life, so she could finally have the things that she deserved and no one would make her feel bad for doing it.
Lexi started her shift with a smile on her face and for the first time she was actually looking forward to going home that night. She had no idea what the future held for her, but she knew it had to be better than what she had in the past.
THE END
GO TO THE INDEX
My Billionaire Ex
My Billionaire Ex
Chapter 1
Claire sighed to herself in the dark office. As she clicked away at the keyboard of her desktop, she blinked a few times, trying to focus. The digital clock at the bottom of the screen read one twenty-two a.m. and she yawned, stifling it in the crook of her elbow. Grabbing the mouse, she saved her work and signed off. She’d be back in less than seven hours, anyway.
She stood up and grabbed her purse as the light on the screen dimmed. It’d been a long day, and the case she’d been handed earlier had only proven to be a grueling mess. Luckily, the buses ran all night, or she’d have had to leave hours ago.
The December air had been brisk that morning, but as she stepped out into the night and let the door swing closed behind her, she shivered, crossing her arms in an attempt to warm herself. She’d definitely wear dress pants tomorrow, but for now she had to settle with her knee-length skirt and button-up blazer.
The sidewalk was slick with ice under her heels, and she was careful to take small steps as she walked to the bus stop. As a public defender, her offices were in the courthouse, something that she was grateful for as the lampposts lit her way through the quiet night. It was like the city was sleeping, finally taking a break from its usual non-stop way of life.
Claire checked her wristwatch. The bus was due in fifteen minutes, though she knew it liked to arrive early sometimes. Speeding up a little, she barely registered the alley that she was passing by until two hands shot out of the shadows and dragged her into it.
Her scream was muffled by fingers covering her face, and she kicked as she felt an arm curled around her stomach. “Shhh,” a voice whispered in her ear. It was a man, though she could’ve guessed that much by his strength alone, and she struggled in his grip as he only pulled her farther down the alley. “Calm down, girl.” She flinched, freezing when she felt something sharp against her side. “I don’t want to kill unnecessarily.”
“Mhm!” Claire tried to yell, but he just held her tighter.
“Your bag,” he said, his voice excited. “Give it to me—”
“Hey!”
The man holding her jumped, and she gasped as she felt his weapon cut into her blazer from surprise. A figure was running toward them—a man—his bright eyes flashing in the darkness. “Let her go!” he yelled, his hands fisted at his sides as he raced to them.
“Damn,” her captor cursed. She felt him release her, but her legs were too numb to hold herself up. As his footsteps sounded his escape, she fell to her knees, catching herself as she splayed her hands out in front of her. The cold of the alley’s road beneath her was a welcomed sting, and she thought about curling up on it as her heart continued to jump into her throat.
“Are you okay?” a breath puffed into her face. The man who’d scared her mugger away was kneeling in front of her, his blue eyes inches from hers. “Ah,” he said, realization startling his perfect features. “Claire? Claire McGee?”
She blinked, looking into the face of her savior. He looked normal enough; nice enough. He had a straight nose, oddly perfect eyebrows, and a soft mouth. But the way her said her name made her nervous—like he knew her.
She thought she recognized it.
“Uh,” she tried, swallowing hard for a moment. “Chad…?”
“Aw fuck,” he breathed, and she smelled peppermint. “C’mere,” he said, pulling her up by her arms. She was slightly relieved when he didn’t try to grab her waist, but his close proximity was still jarring after being held by knifepoint. She let him lead her back out into the street in a confused haze.
“Over here! Ainsley!” he yelled suddenly, making Claire flinch. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Sir?” another man suddenly appeared, though he was much older.
“Help me get her to the car, she’s been attacked.”
Claire jumped at the new set of hands coming up to support her back, but Chad was still next to her, so she didn’t resist. They led her to a black limousine, one with chrome handles that Chad opened to urge her inside. She slid in, all the way to the other end of the seat, and Chad stepped in after her. The other man, Ainsley, must have closed the door after them. It was only a moment before he slipped into the front seat ahead of them.
“Claire,” Chad said as the man started the car. “This is Ainsley, my driver. Ainsley,” he said, leaning between the divider. “Take us back to my place, would you?” Then, sitting back beside Claire, he said, “You’re staying with me tonight.”
The ride to his ‘place’ was quick, which didn’t really surprise Claire. Chad was the rich son of a rich father, something she’d learn quickly when she’d met him back in college. She’d been a scholarship student then, a girl who had gone to public school all her life and was lucky enough to have the talent to get into Yale. Chad, on the other hand, was the child of a Yale man, and his entrance was all but prophesized.
They’d run into each other during her second year, though his reputation had more than preceded him. He was a womanizing billionaire asshole who loved his scotch and his lacrosse games. It wasn’t all that much of a shock, then, when she saw him heavily making out with a student in the east hallway.
The girl had been too wrapped up in the kiss to notice, but Chad had met her eyes, a sick smirk on his face as he held up a finger to keep quiet. It wasn’t any of Claire’s business, so she kept walking, pretending she hadn’t seen anything.
That had just made Chad interested.
He started popping up, after that. In the library first, or the student dining hall, but then he became bolder and began sitting next to her in classes that he wasn’t even scheduled in. That was when he’d started talking to her.
“Law student, huh?” he’d asked casually, glancing at her notes. “Me too. Though you don’t strike me as the ruthless type.”
“Wanting the truth isn’t ruthless,” she’d countered, her face red. “It’s justice.”
“Ah,” he’d chuckled. “So you’re one of them.”
He’d stuck to her even closer after that. It wasn’t long before he’d tried sleeping over, or stealing a kiss or two. But Claire wasn’t the type to fool around, and he wasn’t the type to remain faithful to just one girl.
Until he did.
“What is this?” Claire had asked him after finding a hand-written letter in her chemistry textbook.
“My proclamation of love,” he’d repl
ied, deadpanned.
And, so, they’d started dating.
It’d been nice, surprisingly. Chad had only increased his random acts of devotion and gifts of affection, and in return, Claire had begun locking her dorm door with him on the inside. Everything was perfect, really.
Until it had became glaringly obvious that Chad was embarrassed of her.
“Claire—”
“You blew me off!” Claire had fumed, picking a fight with him in the middle of a busy hallway.
“No, I just—”
“Your friends don’t know, do they?” It was the only explanation. “They were so surprised when I approached them, especially when I said I wanted to talk with you in particular.”
Chad had thrown his hands up in the air, huffing. “Well, what do you expect?” He’d gestured to her. “You think they’d thought that we’d run in the same circle?”
That had hit harder than anything she’d expected him to say. Sure, she was a scholarship student, but she was also perfectly average. She wasn’t a size two, like the rich girls Chad was normally surrounded by, not with her curves and padded stomach. She was more a size sixteen or twenty-two, not that the sweaters and pants she wore gave it away. She was modest, and middle-class, and—apparently—not a person that Chad Michaels should’ve been talking to, let alone dating.
“Well, then let’s not give them a rude awakening,” she’d replied, hugging her books to her chest. That was why she was in school, after all—to learn, not to date. “As of right now, we’re strangers.”
“Claire, wait!”
But she had just pushed past him, the tears blurring her vision. He hadn’t even tried to give chase.
“Here we are,” Chad said, pulling her out of her thoughts as he opened the car door for her before Ainsley could do it. He stepped out, holding it open as he motioned for her to follow. Now that Claire had her heart under control, her brain was back up to speed and she was left wondering why the hell she had allowed herself to get into Chad’s car.
“Actually,” she said, climbing out after him. He tried to take her hand and help her, but she dodged him. “I’m over my little, ah, shock, so if you could point me in the direction of the nearest bus station—”
“What?” Chad asked, frowning. He slapped his hands on her shoulders, speaking into her face. “Claire, I didn’t bring you here because you were feeling upset. You’re here for your own safety.”
“Chad,” she said, suddenly reminded of his dramatic tendencies. “It was a mugging, not attempted murder.”
“That you know of,” he said, stepping back. “Now come on, Ainsley needs to bring the car around so that he can retire for the night.”
Glancing at the smiling old driver, Claire bit her lip and started up the walk after Chad.
Chapter 2
The building before Claire could only be described as a mansion, and she as she stared at the ornate windows and balconies, she decided that it must be at least three stories high. It was the kind of grand home that she’d always imagined Chad would find for himself.
Before they’d even made it to the top of the marble steps, one of the front double doors opened and a woman stuck her head out.
“Mr. Michaels!” she smiled warmly. “Welcome home.”
“Mrs. Anderson,” he laughed. “I’m afraid I have a last minute guest tonight—would you mind freshening up the first guest bedroom for her?”
Mrs. Anderson raised her eyebrows in surprise. “The first…? I mean, yes sir, right away,” she said, stepping back to let them in. She closed the door behind them, then stepped past them to bustle down the hallway. Claire watched her go until she finally disappeared around a corner.
“How many guest rooms do you have?” Claire asked.
“Enough,” Chad shrugged. As they walked further into the house, Chad paused before an open closet. “Here, let me take your coat,” he said, holding out a hand.
“That’s okay,” Claire said quickly, wrapping her blazer tighter against her.
“Really, Claire,” Chad rolled his eyes, but dropped his hand. “I’m your friend from college, not your mugger from the streets.”
“Friend?” Claire muttered, but then Chad sighed and she knew he’d heard her.
“Yes,” he said irritably. “Despite our little falling out, I’ve always considered you a friend.”
“Well, that makes one of us,” she said, shrugging her bag up from her elbow to her shoulder. “So, where’s this ‘guest bedroom’ anyway? I have work at eight.”
“Eight in the morning?” Chad scoffed. “My, they really like to overwork their public defenders.”
“Well,” Claire jeered, “We can’t all be a top lawyer at our father’s billion dollar firm.”
Instead of bristling, Chad just laughed. “Yes, I suppose not.”
As it turned out, the first guest bedroom was right next to Chad’s bedroom, complete with connecting doors. Claire locked hers in front of Chad, who only shook his head with a smile.
“Call Mrs. Anderson if you need anything,” he said, pointing to a red button on the wall. “Or you could always come find me,” he said with a wink.
“Wonderful,” Claire said dryly, dropping her bag off onto one of the many tables. The guest room was huge—a king poster bed, couches and televisions—honestly, it was bigger than her apartment. “Well, goodnight,” she said, all but chasing Chad out of her room.
“Goodnight,” he agreed, waving as she shut the door in his face.
Really, he hadn’t changed at all.
Claire woke to the scratch of wood and a door clicking closed. She kept her eyes shut, trying to determine if someone was in the room with her when she felt a brush of fingers against her shoulder.
She jumped up, swinging and kicking, but froze when a voice yelled, “Claire!”
It was Chad, eyes wide and mouth open as his arms covered his face against her attack. He always had valued his looks over anything else. Sighing, Claire slumped back into the bed, her narrowed eyes on Chad. “What are you doing?”
“Waking you,” he said with a sigh, as if it were obvious. “You have to be at work by eight, right? It’s six thirty.”
Claire glanced at her wristwatch. It was six thirty-two, and her usual bus didn’t show up until seven. She could only guess how the buses in his area ran. “Thanks,” she said, sitting up. She’d slept in her clothes last night above the covers, and her blouse was terribly wrinkled for it.
“No problem,” Chad said, heading for the door. “We’ve got breakfast downstairs, but when you’re ready to leave just tell Mrs. Anderson…” he trailed off, peeking at the folder that’d slid out of her purse from where she’d dropped it last night. “Aww, Claire,” he said. “Still doing charity cases?”
Claire jumped up and slammed the folder closed, her jaw clenched. It was for the Smith case—a small town factory worker who was suing his company for injury. “It’s none of your business,” Claire ground out.
“Eh,” Chad shrugged, leaving it be. “Anyway, tell Mrs. Anderson, and she’ll fetch Ainsley for you.”
“Ainsley?” Claire repeated, holding the folder. “Wait, I’m not taking—”
“See you downstairs,” Chad winked, closing the door behind him.
Claire glared after him. Damn billionaire.
Breakfast was a feast within itself. Whereas Claire would usually eat some toast or, on the rare occasion, treat herself to a muffin and some coffee, Chad seemed quite comfortable sitting at a table full of a dozen or so platters. Bacon, cheeses, toasts and jams—all of it was at his fingertips.
“Please,” Chad motioned to the chair next to him, and a woman pulled it out. “Join me.”
“God, you’re such a…” Claire sat down, thanking the girl. Looking at the various dishes in front of her, she looked hopelessly at Chad. “So, what’s good?”
For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he laughed and spread his arms wide to indicate the table. “All of it,
I imagine. Why not try each dish for yourself?”
Claire shrugged and reached for the platter of eggs. Scrambled would be nice, and some bacon wouldn’t hurt either. Before long, she had a full plate in front of her, and she grabbed one of the many forks laid out for her to dig in. As she chowed down, she half expected Chad to say something, but he just laced his fingers under his chin and watched her eat, a small smile on his face. It was sort of creepy, actually.
“Sir,” a man stooped next to Chad, whispering in his ear. Chad raised an eyebrow at his words, and stood up.
“Well Claire-bear,” he said, ignoring the look she gave him for it. “I must be going. Mrs. Anderson, look after her, will you?” With that, he pushed out his chair and followed the other man out of the room, walking after him with his hands clasped behind his back.
Claire finished her meal at a slower pace, and by the time she set her fork down Mrs. Anderson was already approaching her. “Was it all to your liking?” she asked kindly.
Claire nodded, but asked, “Does he always eat this much?”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Anderson shook her head. “The boy barely eats anything, I’m afraid. When he called upon the kitchens, he kicked up quite a storm.”
Claire scoffed. “I can imagine, asking everyone to change their schedules at the last minute.”
“Oh, quite the contrary,” Mrs. Anderson giggled. “The chefs were only too happy to comply. And while he did manage to polish off a plate, I believe the only reason he asked for it was because of you.”
That made Claire blush, but she didn’t answer. There was a time when Chad had cared enough to do that sort of thing—when he’d bring coffee to her morning classes, or hide sweets in her bag for later. He’d never seemed to care that she wasn’t skinny, but maybe that was why it’d hurt so much when she’d found out.
“So,” she said, clearing her throat. “He said to ask you about Ainsley…?”