The Billionaire Bastard: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Hart, Romi

  “Uh huh, and I’m sure I never came up, right? My terrible personality and billionaire entitlement.”

  “No, no, no one cares about your billionaire entitlement!” she says, bobbing her head in squinting sarcasm. “Unless you’re trying to destroy homeless shelters and kick orphans to the curb. All your money and power is just fine by me.”

  “Oh well-?”

  “BECAUSE,” she corrects. “I already am rich and powerful. So I don’t need more of what I already got.” She fakes an arrogant little head shake and snickers, giving me the giggles too.

  “Touche! Okay, so what have you been discussing?”

  “You have come up in my therapy sessions.”

  “Of course! What else do women talk about in therapy besides their horrible male partners?”

  She snorts. “You are so paranoid, man. No, I was actually just talking to Helena – my therapist is named Helena, FYI – and we were discussing sex.”

  She opens her eyes wide and talks over me.

  “NOT about what we do in bed. No, about some of my issues and problems with sex that are completely independent of you.”

  “Oh, you mean…”

  “Yes,” she says seriously. “I mean Mickey. When I was with him, he…he made me do things I was never comfortable with.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “Stuff I’m not going to go into detail about.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry. Let me guess, anal?”

  Denise rolls her eyes. “I’m not as prudish as you think, Mister Hollock. No, not anal. This is probably something you wouldn’t understand.”

  “I’m sure I would.”

  “We discussed how Mickey always battered my self-esteem. And made me feel like shit. And then after pounding me, and breaking me of all self-confidence and all the will to LIVE…and making me cry night after night…how he would then demand that we fuck. And how that trained me to think that sex was something ugly…and something that I deserved because I was a good-for-nothing slut. And a terrible wife and a terrible lover. Just a piece of shit person with a vagina, that’s how it felt.”

  She stares at me until I slouch back against the chair, hurting for my dear girl.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “So no, you wouldn’t understand anything like that, Simeon. You’re a decent man. You would never treat me that way, I know that. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have to live with and process those feelings.”

  “Well…I don’t know about that. None of us are decent. None of us are unsoiled…”

  “The truth is…” she continues talking over me. I’m beginning to like this habit of hers. She really knows what she’s saying, even when I just ramble like a loon. “I do realize now that experiencing all this really good uh, romance, that we have going on…it’s confusing to me. It feels really good. But it’s like going 90 miles per hour in a 30 mile per hour zone, you know?”

  “I get it.”

  “It’s like, well, it’s like a fear of flying!” she says with a blush. “You’re a little nervous at first. But then you realize you’re safe. Nothing bad’s going to happen. You just got to get used to it and realize that the anxiety is residue from the past. Nothing about the present. I told my therapist only good things about you.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” I say blankly.

  “So…” she says taking another chomp. “What did you tell your therapist? Something scandalous?”

  “Uhhh…not really. He was just saying all this stuff about looking into the abyss.”

  “Huh. So you’re seeing Sigmund Freud? Not like a normal therapist that actually wants to help you?”

  I crack up laughing. “Well, possibly.”

  “What else did he say? What did you say?”

  “He actually thinks…” I say peacefully. “That you’re really special.”

  “Wow, your therapist likes me?”

  “NO, I meant that the way I describe you.” I say with a shy smile. “He says I may be in love…” with an image of the girl I think I want.

  “Ohhhhh…” she smiles back at me, teeth showing and with sweet eyes. “Sounds like you want to propose or something. Oh wait you already did.” She laughs.

  “Yeah…”

  “But I’m very honored to be the apple of your eye.”

  “I admit now…it was a bit of rushed, irrational judgment to do that. I was just new to, you know, emotional connection and all that. I’m a little embarrassed now actually.”

  “Don’t be,” she says with a smile. “It was very flattering. Made me feel wonderful.”

  “Well that’s good.”

  “In fact, I was thinking,” she says, putting her fork down, “maybe we could hang out over the summer. It gets really hot in the city and well…my boss offered me a vacation, on account of all the fabulous work I was doing. And not JUST because he embarrassed himself asking me out a while back.”

  I chortle at the thought. “I’d love to hang out with you. Where would you like to go? Antarctica? Machu Picchu? I’ve always wanted to see them…”

  “Well, hon, there’s no need to be so extravagant. We could hang out, you know at your house.”

  “Over the summer?”

  “Yeah. Or you know…the rest of the year. Or as long as we want. You know…?”

  Silence. An uncomfortable moment of silence passes. And another.

  “Or my house, I guess,” she says in worry. “I guess maybe your house is more like a museum than a living quarters. Got a Downton Abbey thing going on there?”

  “Umm…so you’re saying you want to move in together?”

  “Well…yeah. Is that such a vulgar thought?”

  I shake my head, saying nothing in particular but muttering. I take a drink…a long drink.

  She stares at me.

  “OH MY GOD,” she says.

  “What? I’m thirsty.”

  “No you’re not! You’re flipping out about the idea of us moving in together.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Oh bullshit. Half my job is reading people, Simeon. Seriously, you think I’m that stupid? I might as well have just told you I’m secretly a man!”

  I stare at her.

  “No, I’m not really a man, you fucking paranoid fool.”

  “I know, I know,” I say quickly, trying to laugh off the danger. “I mean yeah…it’s something to talk about.”

  “Something to talk about? Okay…let me get this straight. You PROPOSED to me, I said yes. We both kind of backed away. Now after all this mad fucking, and after you admit to loving me, NOW you’re saying that the idea of moving in together is so repulsive to you that you’re literally going to just keel over and die. Because that’s the impression I’m getting. Am I wrong?”

  “No, no, not at all. Go ahead and move in. I don’t care. Well, I mean…”

  “So you went from innocent romantic to sex god to shy little boy in less than six months. WOW. You are an amazing guy, Simeon Hollock.”

  Using my full name. That can’t be good. “I’m not upset.”

  “NO you’re not. I’M the one that’s pissed.”

  “Oh well, great!” I shout back. “Good to know therapy is helping you so much!”

  “You don’t think I took a chance, Simeon? That I took a big risk in asking you that and sharing how I feel? And now I just feel like a crazy bitch? GOD, I can’t believe you.”

  “I guess I didn’t realize what you were asking. You were so matter-of-fact about it. I thought if you were asking me, you know, it would be more…uh…romantic.”

  She stares at me. “Romantic? Me romancing you? Oh sure, Simeon. Let me buy you flowers and chocolates and shit. Let me drive us to the movies and try to grab your boobs.”

  “I’m not sensing the love in that statement.”

  “You are such a head trip, my friend.”

  “Why are you so upset? I said yes.”

  “You remember when you proposed to me, Simeon? How awkward and weird and YET
beautiful that moment was?”

  “Of course.”

  “What did I do? I said YES. I said YES!”

  “Right…and?”

  “That’s what you’re supposed to do when someone feels that way about you.”

  Denise’s anger melts away into vulnerability. She breaks eye contact and looks away. She’s fighting tears again. I don’t understand. Why is she always so unhappy around me?

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Denise.”

  “I know…it’s fine. Whatever. Let’s just forget I said anything.”

  “I just got to ask…” I say with a head shake. It’s dangerous I know, but I got to say it. The adventurer in me won’t let me NOT say it.

  “Denise…if you didn’t feel that way about me…why in the world did you say yes when I proposed? I mean…how do we really feel about each other here?”

  “Maybe we’re just…” She shrugs. “Fucking our brains out. Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe this is nothing.”

  My heart sinks at the thought. I don’t understand why she feels that way or what she expects out of me. The word of Doctor Branfield are hitting me hard right now.

  He said it all. That neither of us may even know what we want. She wants to be my perfect woman and I want perfect romance to just happen so perfectly.

  But the real world isn’t like that, is it?

  “Well Denise, I’m sorry about all this. I hope we can still…still…”

  “Still what? Fuck like crazy? You know…I think I’m just getting too old for that.”

  “People have sex into their 70s and 80s you know.”

  “Thanks Simeon. Just what I wanted, a visual of my grandmother getting it on.”

  “Ooooh, no, not my intention!”

  “I mean…it all goes back to the same thing. You were never serious about me. This is all a game to you.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a writer. You’re paid to play with people’s heads.”

  “No, not in real life,” I say impatiently. “I don’t do that in outside of fiction. Come on…give me some credit.”

  Whatever this is it’s a misunderstanding. Why won’t she listen to reason?

  I think we should just stop,” she says tiredly. “No more sex. Definitely no more of this, whatever this is. You have your life and I have mine. Let’s just go back to THAT.”

  She stares at me…in anger, in bitterness. Whatever love she had for me is transforming into angst.

  “So you’re saying maybe we’re just two confused people? That’s what my doctor said,” I say in delirious laughter. “That neither of us may know what we want.”

  “Well thanks Doctor Freud, really.”

  She folds her arms and glares at me.

  Well…I might as well piss her off, since she’s breaking up with me anyway.

  “You going to pay for dinner?”

  To my surprise, she laughs heartily. “Sure, Simeon. I know you’re really struggling. I want to help out.” She un-ironically grabs the check, proud to pay for her meal and mine. After all, money doesn’t concern her in the least.

  “I guess I am much like a book. Ironic. Books don’t teach us anything. They’re just…you know…mirror images. What we get out of it, all open to interpretation.”

  “Yeah…”

  She stares me down and burns a hole through me, realizing she has something else to say.

  “You know what? NO, that’s not true at all. Books are that way, yeah. But you’re not a book, Simeon. You’re a wall. You won’t let anyone in.”

  “What? How can you say that?”

  “Because all the sex, the instant marriage proposal…it’s all a wall. I realize that now. You’re keeping me farther away from the real you…probably farther away than anyone you’ve ever known. You’re not a book, you’re a fucking wall.”

  “A wall? I’m a wall?”

  “Yes, you’re a wall. Spelled W.A.L.L. A wall as in a solid object designed to keep other people out. You know the parts of a building that make the building impenetrable.”

  “Ah, like a literal wall?”

  “Yes a wall. You and Donald Trump would really like each other because you could talk about your mutual love of walls.”

  “Huh. That’s the most interesting criticism I’ve ever heard.”

  “Happy to help. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mister Hollock, I have a life to live.”

  “By all means.” I waved my hand.

  “I mean, yeah, a great job and a house full of cats!” she laughed in distress. “But it’s still my life. And I’m not ashamed of it, not really.”

  “We’ll always have our memories.”

  “You’ll always have my ass!” she says, now full of sarcastic venom as she gets up and walks away from me.

  I had that too!

  Should I say that out loud? No probably not. I don’t think she’d laugh this time. This time I think she’s really upset.

  God…what am I thinking? The woman I think I love is walking out of my life and all I can do is crack jokes. Maybe what she says is right…maybe there is a wall and I’ve just never seen it there. Maybe it’s been there all along.

  Chapter 11

  Denise

  Weeks have passed since I said goodbye to my FUCK BUDDY, that billionaire bastard Simeon Hollock.

  Yeah it feels good to insult him, hate him and blame him for everything. It kind of distracts me from the tragedy of it all. It keeps from crying, at least.

  The wall he builds around himself to keep people far away. Even the ones that try so hard to get inside his heart, they’re the ones he holds at arm’s length.

  God…he proposed to me that day, KNOWING I would flip out and break up with him. He’s been fucking my brains out so hard, just so we’ll never have to talk about what really exists between us.

  I guess my instincts were right. I just don’t like dating men. I don’t like dating anyone seriously. Hell, maybe I should try to be more like Simeon and just keep a NO TRESPASSING sign posted all over my heart.

  Well…one thing’s for sure. Getting back to work as a single, strong woman who’s sick of dating men has been interesting. And quite surprising!

  “Thanks Becky, that’ll be all,” I tell our new Chief Accounting Officer, Becky Marie.

  “Great, thanks. Say…Denise?”

  “Yes?”

  “I was wondering…would you like to go out for a drink?”

  “Oh thanks but I already told the guys I don’t do the group bar thing. Too many people.”

  “I just meant us. You and I could get a drink.”

  “Us? What would we talk about?”

  Becky raises her eyebrow at me and smiles…not shyly but in a coy way. “Well, we could talk about anything. Books, movies, or crafting. Whatever’s on your mind.”

  “Uh huh…”

  “But the important thing is we’ll get to spend some quality time together.”

  “Oh…you mean?”

  Becky smiles cheekily.

  “Ahhh,” I say with a blushing face. “I’m sorry but I’m just not seriously dating anyone right now. I just had my heart broken. I don’t want…”

  “Hey, it’s cool!” Becky says. “I don’t really want anything serious either. But sometimes fun is good, right?”

  I laugh, quite alarmed at Becky’s persistence. “Um thank you but I don’t really, you know, swing that way.”

  “Eh, that’s what they all say at first.”

  She smiles again. I smile back…blushing…flattered…but still in the depths of despair.

  Oddly enough, ever since I decided to stop dating men, and made the mistake of joking about it publicly, I’ve had all sorts of offers from women!

  “It’s so weird. It’s like the universe or god or whatever is out there knows what’s bothering you. And so Life mocks you with all these silly things, right when you hit your lowest ebb.”

  “I’m sorry, hon,” Chrissy says. We both sit on the couch, guzzling down beer and lamenting
the mistakes of our lives. “I know it sucks. But hey, at least the universe is telling you you’re attractive and desirable no matter what team you play for.”

  “Yeah right! I mean at least Becky was cool about it. Like three other girls were all, like, guilting me, trying to make me go out with them. I thought only guys were pigs when it comes to dating?”

  “Nah women are way worse!”

  “It’s just so weird. Do I give off a gay vibe or something? I mean you don’t want to bang me, do you?”

  “No,” she answers quickly. “I don’t want to just bang you.”

  “Well that’s good. I don’t know, Chrissy, maybe I just missed my chance, you know?”

  “That’s bullshit! You have as many chances as you want.”

  “Yeah but maybe the love thing…maybe I’m just not cut out for it. Maybe we’re all just in love with being in love. Maybe that’s why Simeon and I hate each other…and fuck so well together. Because we both GET IT. That love is just this arbitrary thing, it’s not intellectual, it’s not rational.”

  “Oh girl, you have to get out of your own head! You said it yourself that Simeon was a wall. You can’t have a relationship with someone who’s closed off like that.”

  “Why not? It’s the way I am. It’s the way I’ve always been.”

  “Because of Mickey. But it’s not your fault. The guy should accept that you have issues and he should be patient with you.”

  “Hmmmm. Yeah my therapist said the same thing.”

  “What?”

  “That a guy I’m dating should be patient and allow me to process what I feel.”

  “Right.”

  “But…on the other hand…maybe I’m not being patient with Simeon.”

  “What? Oh come on!”

  “No, really. What if he’s trying to process something and I’ve just been over here all flipping out like a goddamned teenager? Maybe that’s been the problem all along.”

  “No way. There’s nothing complicated about Simeon! He’s a billionaire rich guy who’s used to getting his way all the time. He just needs to grow up and realize that if he really wants to have a loving relationship, he has to grow up and accept you for who you are.”

  “I know. I agree with you…but…”