The Billionaire’s Crush

by Tineka Brown

  “Of course,” said Olympia.

  With that Valentine left the restaurant.

  “Do you know what that was about?” Asked Everett. His hand was now resting on her forearm, in the fashion of a concerned date.

  “Um… no… I mean. Well, I have a guess, but…” Olympia shook her head. She shouldn’t have said anything. Valentine’s business was his own, and she’d be a hypocrite to express any interest.

  Everett seemed to understand the same. “Well,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind continuing the meal… just the two of us?”

  Olympia batted her eyelashes and put her hand on his leg again. “Oh, not at all Everett.”

  Chapter 4

  “And so that’s why I ended up buying the casino.” Everett finished his story with a sip of the fine cognac that he’d ordered to the table to pair with dessert. Though it looked splendid, Olympia herself had declined a glass. She was still technically working and didn’t want to appear unprofessional in front of Everett.

  “Well, I certainly hope your investment pays off,” said Olympia, raising her glass of water to her lips.

  Everett laughed. “Of course. That’s the hope with any investment. I think it will — and even if it doesn’t, it won’t ruin me. I’ve put a lot into this place, but I’ve planned ahead. I have other properties, and plenty of simple monetary investments… but listen to me. I’m talking about myself again.”

  Olympia truthfully didn’t mind, but she smiled and gazed at him through lowered eyelids. “Well, you’re an interesting man.”

  “Olympia… can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Uh, sure. What is it?”

  “Well, it’s just… Valentine seemed adamant that you two were a couple but… something about that doesn’t add up. And forgive me if it is the case, I certainly don’t mean to question your relationship, I mean, you’re both adults…” he trailed off and cleared his throat, beginning again. “It’s just… you don’t seem very… happy. With him. I keep thinking that you seem anxious about something when he’s around, and maybe you’re anxious about something else and I’m just projecting--”

  Olympia silenced him, putting a finger gently to his lips. It was a brazen gesture, and some distant, sober part of her brain cried out in shock, but Everett, for his part, only smiled and grasped her wrist to gently pull her hand away.

  “Pardon me.” He said.

  “No,” began Olympia. “You’re right. Valentine and I aren’t really together. He’s actually my ex — we dated for about two years, but… it wasn’t a very good relationship. We had a lot of problems. Or rather… he had a lot of problems, if I’m being honest.”

  Everett’s eyebrows were raised. She drew in a breath and continued. This was hard enough to talk about now that she was slightly tipsy. She wasn’t sure she’d ever broached the subject with anyone before. Perhaps only Alex.

  “I don’t want this to color your opinion of him as a singer,” she said, looking Everett earnestly in the eyes. “He’s very good at what he does. He’s a great performer and showman. He’s got talent. But when it comes to personal relationships, well… he can be very controlling. He’s got anger issues. And… well, when we were together anyway he had more than a small problem with drugs.”

  Everett frowned. “God, Olympia, I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you about this beforehand. That was really irresponsible of me. I’ll get you a new hotel room at once. You shouldn’t be staying with him.”

  Olympia shrugged. “I’d appreciate that. I… well, the last day or so… honestly since we got here and visited your apartment, he’s been almost suspiciously nice to me. Like… uh, well…”

  She’d painted herself into a corner. In order to tell Everett the full extent of her concerns with Valentine, she’d have to tell him about her feelings for him. But then again, would that be so bad? Here they were, sitting altogether too close in an empty booth for four people, half-drunk on fine wine and liquor… Olympia became aware that their feet were touching, under the table.

  A deep breath, and she let it out. “Everett… I can’t deny that I think you’re a very attractive man. I… I guess I was being pretty obvious about it when we went to your apartment, and well, Valentine noticed. When we got back to the hotel that evening he made a big deal about giving me his “blessing” to, well… to pursue you, I guess.” She leaned back slightly, trying to read Everett’s reaction, but his face conveyed little emotion. “Not that I was planning on pursuing anything. I just think you’re interesting. That’s all.”

  After what felt like an eternity of a pause, Everett broke into a smile and leaned in against Olympia’s shoulder. “Oh, Olympia,” he said softly. “I think you’re awfully… interesting yourself. Is it… is it too forward for me to say that I’m a little bit relieved that you and Valentine aren’t an item?”

  Olympia smiled as her heart swelled. “Not at all,” she said, her voice low.

  A beat passed, then Everett turned to survey the table. “Well… that’s dinner. I’d like to continue this conversation though. Would you like to come back to my apartment?”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  *****

  Everett’s penthouse was even more stunning by night, when the huge polished windows offered a view of the lights of the city that seemed to extend for endless miles on either side.

  “Coffee?” He offered as they entered. A selection of lamps clicked on automatically, bathing the room in just enough warm, dim light for visibility, without obscuring the view.

  “Sounds great,” said Olympia. She kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable on a modern loveseat that faced out toward the window. The view was truly enchanting — and quite romantic, she had to admit.

  Everett emerged from the kitchen with two small cups of coffee and a pot of cream on a tray.

  “Fresh-ground Ethiopian dark roast,” he explained.

  Olympia took a cup and added a dash of cream, watching it curl into mug, mixing with the dark coffee. She sipped. “And you even know coffee,” she said, teasing.

  “I’ve learned a lot since I became an entrepreneur,” said Everett.

  “So, you weren’t always one?”

  Everett seemed to pause momentarily, as if debating the merits of telling this particular part of his story. “No,” he said eventually.

  “There’s a story there, isn’t there?”

  “I suppose there is. Well… I didn’t come from wealth. In fact, I grew up quite poor. I was born in Louisiana. My entire family lived in a run-down, two-room bungalow. My parents both tried really hard — when they could find work, they’d hold down two jobs each just to try to put food on the table. My brother and I… we often didn’t have clothes, shoes… we’d pretty much have to fend for ourselves a lot of the time.”

  “That sounds hard,” said Olympia, genuinely sympathetic. She’d grown up in a middle-class family, and while singing hadn’t so far been incredibly lucrative, she’d always made enough to eat and pay her rent.

  Everett took a sip of coffee and tilted his head slightly. “It was. I can’t deny that. But… in retrospect I think it also taught me a lot. Not just about saving money but about relating to other people.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  ‘Well… I’ve met a lot of people in this business. A lot of whom were born into incredibly wealthy families, who basically had everything handed to them right from day one. And while some of those people have been very nice, sometimes that sense of entitlement shows through. You know? In their dealings with contractors, or smaller businesses, they don’t seem to understand how something might not be ready for them right when they need it, or how other people might see things differently, or do things in the name of saving money, perhaps…”

  Everett looked at Olympia, then. The light from his apartment blended with the blue light of the city down below, illuminating his face with a soft, inviting glow. “I try to treat everyone I work with like I would have wanted to be treated, you know? I don
’t want to hire the latest, most billable pop star for my opening night show. I wanted you because you’re something new, you’re something original, and I think at the end of the day people are going to remember that a lot more.

  But part of hiring someone who isn’t necessarily a star… yet--” he looked pointedly at Olympia while he said this — “is making sure they don’t get an awful impression of show business right from the start. I feel I’ve done you a disservice by forcing you to stay in a hotel room with a man who was abusive to you in the past.”

  Olympia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me you think I need to be babied.” The thought nearly broke her heart.

  “Oh, no! Not babied. You’re an adult, and I trust you to take care of yourself. I just mean… I feel like I’ve actively made your life more difficult here.”

  “Come on, taking me out to dinner at a five-star restaurant that isn’t even open yet? Spending all this time whispering sweet nothings, taking me back to your apartment? This is hardly a difficult life.” She looked down at the blinking, flashing lights of the city, thinking I could get used to this.

  “Well…” said Everett, putting down his coffee cup. “That’s extra. That’s just because I like you.”

  Olympia watched as he leaned slightly toward her, the realization of what was happening slowly dawning on her. And she wanted it — in that moment, still slightly buzzed from the wine and the caffeine, with the lights of Las Vegas blinking far below, sitting on a sofa that probably cost tens of thousands of dollars, there was nothing else in the world she’d rather be doing than kissing Everett.

  So, she did.

  Their lips, alone, met for a moment, then Everett had somehow swooped in to get his arm around Olympia’s shoulders, and she was leaning back slightly theatrically. Olympia was aware of nothing save for the pounding of her heart and the faint, almost sweet taste of coffee in Everett’s mouth.

  He pulled away for a moment, just long enough to say, “god, I’ve been waiting to do that since you arrived in Las Vegas.”

  Olympia grinned, and pulled him back in. She relished the feeling of his fingers tangling through her wild hair as they grew ever more horizontal on the sofa. In the back of her mind, she knew that this wasn’t the right time for this, but she was happy to make out with Everett for a while, then put a firm stop to things. She trusted him, evidently.

  And he was quickly moving to take off his shirt, shrugging of his suit jacket and fiddling with the buttons all while continuing to plant small, poorly aimed kisses on her lips, chin, and cheeks.

  Olympia found herself giggling as she reached forward to run her hands up and down his abs and pecs, where he found the time to be going to the gym every day was beyond her, but it was obvious that he was, at any rate.

  She smiled as he leaned back to appraise her, watching his lean, well-muscled frame flex in that soft combined light of the city and the apartment. Then he was pressing forward, peeling Olympia’s T-shirt up over her head and pressing his lips to her belly, and further up until she felt his mouth, hot against her breasts even through the fabric of her bra.

  She pushed him away, playfully. He cocked his head at her in a curious gesture.

  “I’m having a great time,” she said, “but I want to save, uh… this for… once I’ve gotten to know you a bit more. After the show.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Of course.”

  “Anyway,” said Olympia, pulling her shirt back down over her stomach, “isn’t it like, a conflict of interest or something for you to be sleeping with one of your performers?”

  “Who said I was sleeping with you?”

  Olympia laughed and threw his suit jacket at him. He caught it neatly.

  “Gosh… Valentine’s probably wondering why the dessert course is taking so long.”

  “Mm…” Everett planted another slow kiss on Olympia’s shoulder before finding his coffee cup and finishing off the dregs. “So, let him wonder.”

  Olympia stood. “Shall we do this again? Soon?”

  “Of course.” Everett hesitated momentarily, then said, “you’re welcome to stay here with me while you’re in town. Or I can book a separate hotel room for you.”

  Olympia smiled. “Thanks. I’d appreciate having my own room. But don’t worry about it tonight. I’d like to let Valentine know, anyway.”

  “Sure. Here., let me at least call you a cab.”

  *****

  It was nearly midnight when Olympia returned to the hotel room. The light was on, and the TV was playing an unfamiliar foreign film, blaring at full volume.

  “Valentine?” She called, struggling to make her voice heard over the TV.

  No answer. She called again as she entered the room, not bothering with her shoes before moving to check the bathroom.

  Empty.

  Valentine was nowhere to be found.

  Olympia sat down on the edge of the bed. Glancing over at the nightstand, she felt a stab of ice in her heart. On the corner of the small table was a baggie of white powder, and Valentine’s hotel key card.

  She ran a finger tentatively over the surface and examined the fine coating of white powder that it picked up, rolling it between thumb and forefinger before jumping up and running to the bathroom to scrub her hands thoroughly.

  “Christ…” she mumbled to herself.

  This wouldn’t be the first time she’d caught Valentine with cocaine, but she’d been certain that he’d at least kicked that habit after they’d broken up. In fact, it had been one of the major factors in their breakup. And after the scolding she’d given him the first time around, she wouldn’t have believed that he would dare speak to her again before kicking the habit quite thoroughly.

  Apparently, she’d been wrong.

  She was at once compelled to call Valentine to try to figure out where he’d gone — he could be anywhere, coked up in Las Vegas at midnight, with a bit of extra cash to burn — but she quickly realized that she no longer had his phone number in her contacts list.

  So she called Everett instead.

  “Hey!” He said, sounding surprisingly chipper for the hour. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everett, I’m really sorry about this, but I’m going to need that hotel room tonight.”

  “Oh? Why? …Did Valentine do something?”

  “Yes… not to me!” She quickly reassured him. “But well, as it turns out his ‘meeting’ that he had to get to during dinner was with his drug dealer. He’s gone but there’s a bag of cocaine on the nightstand and… I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to call the cops on him, but I also don’t want to be implicated.”

  “Say no more, Olympia. Unfortunately, if I show up and move you to a new hotel room, that’s going to look very suspicious if anyone chooses to… uh, pursue this case. If you’re comfortable with it, I recommend you come back here. Then at least Valentine will think you were at my place the whole night.”

  Olympia nodded, taking a moment to catch her breath. “You’re right. Okay. I’ll come back.”

  “I’ll set up the spare bedroom for you.”

  “Thanks Everett. I really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it, Olympia. It’s the least I can do.”

  Olympia stuffed her things back into the suitcase. Luckily, she hadn’t yet found the time to truly unpack, and headed down to the lobby. She spent the cab ride in silence, thankful that the driver didn’t seem all that talkative.