Copyright © 2015 Hearts Collective
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
Also From Sophia Kenzie:
Blood of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC 1) by Sophia Kenzie
Betrayal of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC 2) by Sophia Kenzie
Death of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC 3) by Sophia Kenzie
DEDICATION
For Ashley Leigh.
Because she lived it.
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BILLIONAIRE BADBOY
by Sophia Kenzie
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHATPER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHATPER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
HUNTINGTON HERALD
Bad Boy in Trouble
By Ashley Leigh
Tragedy struck last night when our favorite billionaire bad boy ran his car into a tree on Lloyd Harbor Road. Sources close to him say that he left his own house party around 1:00 a.m., after an evening of heavy drinking. A call was placed to the local police regarding the accident at 1:13 a.m. Ambulances were on the scene at 1:18 a.m. He is currently being treated at Huntington Hospital and is said to be in critical condition.
Those are the facts. That is all I know. For those of you that have read my column in the past, you know I spent a few years reporting on Mr. Stoneguard and that most of what I wrote were my opinions on his misguided way of living. I may not always have agreed with the man’s lifestyle, but right now, he’s fighting for his life. Because of that, I would like to offer you a different opinion. I’m asking for the chance to present him in a slightly altered light.
I met Theodore Vincent Stoneguard IV, or Teddy as I like to call him, seven years ago. I spent an entire summer chasing him down and reliving those exciting moments again and again with each new article. Over the course of that time, I got to see the worst of him, and that’s what I chose to share with my readers. That’s what brought you back each week: the drama. But what I never told you is that in that time, I also got to see the best of him: the part of himself that he shared with no one except me.
I asked him once what made me so special. I asked him why he chose to share his goodness with me and hide his humanity from the rest of the world. You know? He never told me. I can only hope that one day I’ll get the chance to find out.
Like any one of us, Teddy has had his struggles and heartbreaks. He’s had his reasons for acting out. But if you look past the childish games and the immature antics, you’ll see a man who is just looking for his place in this world, trying to figure it all out. And isn’t that what we’re all doing?
Normally this is where I’d say that he deserved what was coming to him, and while I don’t wish death on anyone, he had to realize that if he kept up the type of lifestyle that he was so drawn to he had no chance of making it to his thirtieth birthday. But right now, I can’t bring myself to think those thoughts or write those words with conviction. I can’t approach this piece with my habitual sense of cynicism. Instead, I’m asking you, my readers, to pray for his wellbeing. Pray that Teddy pulls through this terrible happening. Pray that he makes it out of this alive. Pray that I’ll have another article to write next week. I’m asking you to do this for me.
I’m asking this of you because I love him, and I never told him.
CHAPTER TWO
Teddy
Well, isn’t this just like me? I have stopped surprising even myself. It seems only fitting that I would wrap my favorite car around my favorite tree.
I’m not one for telling stories; I’m usually the one the stories are told about. When you tell stories, you’re forced to engage. You’re forced to pretend you care. Engaging and caring aren’t exactly what I’d consider my strong points. They aren’t traits I’ve ever cared to own. But, right now, in my current state, I think I’m willing to make an exception.
You know how they say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes? Well, funny, it’s true – and yet it’s not. Or maybe it’s different for everyone. In my case, the only life I could see was the one I shared with her. That was the life that both started under that tree and ended under that tree. Maybe it was the only life I really ever had.
I’m going to warn you right now: whatever you do, don’t get attached to me. If you haven’t caught onto it yet, I die in this story. Weird, right? Believe me, I know. What is also weird is that I feel compelled to tell a story as my life is slipping away from me; I’m usually a bit more selfish than that. Actually I’m a lot more selfish, but pot-a-to, pot-ah-to, right? Contrary to this very proven fact, here I am giving to others with my last dying breath. Look at me, finally learning what it’s all about… just a little too late.
I guess I’ll tell you a tad about me first, as I’m the storyteller, and you’ll need to know you can trust me. That’s how first person stories work. Or at least how they should work. There’s a very famous tale by a very famous man, and right in the beginning of the book he warns the reader of his biggest flaw by saying “I’m the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life.” The man literally tells you he lies without cause, and then you go on to read the rest of his story. What? Seriously? Go back. Read that book again. Tell me, now, if you trust anything he has to say.
Makes you see that book completely different now, huh?
But that’s why I’m being so up-front with you. I want you to know that everything I have to tell you is true. Funny, I’ve done a number of “terrible” things in my life (a quick note on the word ‘terrible’- I don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of bird-slaying serial killer. I’ve just been known to take advantage of people so I get what I want), but ask anyone and they’ll tell you I’ve owned up to all of those “terrible” things. Maybe even a little too proudly.
But that’s who I am.
My name is Teddy. And now you know everything about me, because, let’s be honest, only pretentious families name their son ‘Teddy’. And just to give you insight into the level of pretentiousness, my full name is Theodore Vincent Stoneguard IV. Again, believe me, I know. I have roman numerals after my name. Getting a girl to sleep with me after she learns that piece of informa
tion is as easy as breathing. Or easier, if you consider my current state. Get it? Because I’m dying… so breathing is a bit difficult…
Anyway…
Back to the roman numerals. Here’s the thing: when a father decides to name his child after him, it means that he believes he’s deserving of a legacy. It links the child to his father… anything the father does will forever be remembered for as many generations as the name continues. I’ll repeat: I’m Theodore Vincent Stoneguard IV. For those of you who aren’t too familiar with the Roman’s system of numbering, my great grandfather was the first Teddy, my grandfather was the second Teddy, my father was the third Teddy, and I’m the fourth Teddy. Needless to say, my family’s legacy is quite profound.
I always said if I ever had a son, I’d name him Paul, just to piss everyone off.
But it looks like that won’t be a problem for me anymore, as I never did have a son and, as I’ve already warned you, I die in this story. I’m not looking for pity, just stating a fact.
I’m twenty-nine years old, which sucks. No one takes you seriously when you’re twenty-nine. Now, I’m not saying that I deserve to be taken seriously just yet in my life, but knowing that I wouldn’t even get the chance to be heard definitely didn’t help in my desire to try. Oh, I know, poor little rich kid complaining that no one listens to him. It’s so cliché.
I never said I was original.
But the other reason twenty-nine sucks is that now, as my life begins to flash before my eyes, I realize there just wasn’t much life. I went to prep schools my entire childhood, and then straight to four years of college, then another three years of law school, and finally another year to gain my Masters of Law degree. For two and a half years after that, I worked at my father’s company, the company that was one day promised to me. That promise was then fulfilled six months ago. On that day, the day I took charge, I finally got my chance to be taken seriously.
Had I been given more time on this earth, I would’ve made a great CEO. Don’t believe anything you’ve heard to the contrary, because I work hard. If anyone has said differently, call them out: they’re liars. I am determined to prove my worth in the corporate world. I will never be the person they claim doesn’t deserve what he was given.
But just as I work hard, I play hard. Harder.
I’ve been arrested nineteen times. Nineteen. Look at that number. Now think on this: that number does not include any arrests from my sealed juvenile record. Add in my underage offenses, and we’re looking at about thirty. I never paid attention to the actual number because they arrested me for silly things: base jumping where I wasn’t supposed to, skydiving where I wasn’t supposed to, bungee jumping where I wasn’t supposed to… you get the picture. Point is, I’m a lawyer, and I’ve been arrested thirty times. How’s that for irony?
Now ask me how many convictions I have on my record. I’m sure you can guess by my smug attitude that the number is zero. And that’s why I chose law. I’ve always been very talented at making other people see my point… in all areas of my life.
Except when it came to her.
I’m pretty charming, yes. I lead a fast paced, thrilling life. I have a way of making the ladies swoon, but there have been enough stories about me. If you’re interested, just check out her column: thirty-five articles all about this guy. It’ll tell you everything you need to know about the life of a billionaire bad boy.
But there haven’t been any stories told of her, of Ashley. I’m sure you’ve heard of her, yes. She wrote a pretty compelling, eye-opening book. It was the book that almost took down my entire family… and in a way, it did. But hearing stories about someone and actually knowing their true story, are two very different things.
So that’s what I’m going to set straight. As my life flashes before my eyes, the life I shared with her, I’m going to tell you the story of Ashley Leigh.
As she is all I can see, I really have no choice.
CHAPTER THREE
HUNTINGTON HERALD
My Night with a Bad Boy
By Ashley Leigh
It was exhilarating, I must say, to find myself sitting outside of his house with a pair of binoculars. Sure, as a child I read all those serialized spy books, and as an adult I’m no stranger to movies about undercover CIA agents, but to actually be hiding behind a tree spying on a stranger… that was something brand new to me.
Who, pray tell, was I spying on? Why, none other than our local billionaire bad boy, Theodore Vincent Stoneguard IV.
Some of you may know me, as I have lived in this town my entire life, but for those of you who do not, welcome to me. And for everyone, welcome to my very first column. I could bore you with my life history and my reasons for wanting to pursue a career in journalism, and then we could swerve over to how I ended up writing a gossip column on page six of my local paper, but that is not why you are here. You are reading my article to learn about him. You are reading this to know what is going on with our very own Teddy.
So that is what I am here to tell you.
I set up my little camp next to a nice, wide tree, and I brought with me a blanket, binoculars, and a note pad. Then I waited. I waited for something to happen. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but after an hour and a half of absolutely nothing, I was about ready to give up and head home.
Then I heard a twig break behind me. I quickly turned around, mostly out of instinct. To my relieved surprise, it was none other than the subject of my investigation.
I knew of his arrogance and his pig-headedness, but I didn’t know of his complete lack of human decency. Assuming I was just some bimbo hoping to be noticed by a billionaire, he casually strolled up to me, backing me up against the tree. When I had no place else to go, he tried to kiss me. Without a single word, the bastard tried to kiss me!
I was able to duck out of his path quickly enough to avoid any obscenity, but by that single act he had given me exactly what I needed: the fuel to pursue this column. When you grow up in a town that also houses a few billionaires, you find that some days you can’t control your jealousy. You hear stories, you see people flock around them, but most of all, you hear about all the things they avoid, all the crimes for which they don’t pay.
I’m here to see make sure that is no longer the case.
So, welcome to my gossip column. Welcome to your weekly update on our favorite billionaire bad boy, Theodore Vincent Stoneguard IV. Teddy. Happy summer, Huntington.
CHAPTER FOUR
Teddy
The first memory I saw was that of the tree.
I had assumed, as my life was beginning to flash before me, that the tree had some significance in my childhood. I had lived in the same house my whole life. That tree was only about one hundred feet from my front door. I was sure that I must have climbed it at some point. Maybe that was where I broke my leg?
But no, as I rounded the massive oak, it wasn’t a child version of myself about to fall from the branches. Instead, I saw Ashley.
This precise moment was the very first time I saw Ashley, and for lack of a better cliché, she really did take my breath away. I’m going to need to take a brief pause in my linear story to talk about this specific slice of time.
Sometimes, in the years that followed, I would lie awake at night and think about that moment, the shock I felt as she whipped around and locked eyes with me, and I would wish that I could rewind my life just to play that instant back over and over again. That wish was never granted. That is, until this moment as I lay dying. Maybe we all do get a dying wish.
She wasn’t plain and she wasn’t striking, but her looks also didn’t land her in the middle of those vague descriptors. There was something about her that just intrigued me. She was… different. Now, don’t get me wrong, she was absolutely beautiful. And to any normal man she would’ve been approaching unattainable, but I am not a normal man and I have no reason to pretend I am. I’ve dated actresses and super models, and super-super models, and I’m pretty sure I hooked up with some s
ort of princess at one point. She might have been a duchess? Or maybe a baroness? It really doesn’t matter, does it? Point is: the women I date are hot.
But Ashley was… spunky? I know that doesn’t help you imagine her, but anything I could tell you about her appearance wouldn’t give you the right picture. It was as though each feature she possessed wouldn’t be ideal—her face was a little too small, her nose a little too big, her cheeks a little too puffy, her eyes a little too wide-set-- but when you put all of them together, she was absolutely breathtaking.
And now I just sound like a tool. This is why I didn’t want to tell you about her looks. I warned you. Just know, no matter what she looked like to anyone else, in that moment she was the girl of my dreams. You know that person, right? You’ve never met, but you know you’d be perfect together. You’ve dreamed about them, but their face always seemed a bit fuzzy. You try to remember the pictures from your dream, but you never can draw the face.
When she turned around it was as if that fuzziness disappeared, and what was left was better than what my imagination could have fathomed. I replayed all those dreams and she fit perfectly into each one. Standing there in a white, flowing dress, she was my dream girl in every meaning of the phrase.
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