Billionaire Beast (Billionaires - Book #12)

by Claire Adams

  I took a deep breath, trying to remember the sequence of motions that Jonathan had just told me. It was a little bit halting, and not perfectly executed, but I managed to do it, and when he told me how good of a job I’d done, for a moment, I felt as though I’d gained a bit of control back over my life.

  After the gym, I went back home and took a shower and then changed. I didn’t feel like staying in though; it was Saturday night, after all, so I went down to Failte. I left a message for Caroline and told her that I was going to be there if she wanted to meet up. I was just sipping my first beer when she texted back and said that she was on deadline and had been working all day and she had to stay at the office but she’d try to get down there if she could. I sighed and slid my phone back into my purse. I figured that I was supposed to feel a little better now that I’d had a talk with Carl, and gotten all that off of my chest. Not that it was a therapy appointment, but wasn’t that the whole point of talk therapy anyway? That you were supposed to feel better once you were able to vocalize what it was that was bothering you?

  And the thing was, I had felt better after I’d left his office, but now I felt more confused than ever, having this time to just sit here with my thoughts. Because there wasn’t going to be any epiphany, there wasn’t going to be any clear sign of what I was supposed to do. My feelings were entangled in a hopeless knot that I knew I had no hope of unraveling. I knew I could ask Caroline, or my mom, what they thought I should do and they’d have a definitive answer, but I also knew this was something I had to come to on my own. Hadn’t Carl been implying that I should trust my feelings? That what I was feeling was not inherently wrong? I tried to recall exactly how he phrased it, but now I couldn’t. The only thing I could really remember from that whole thing was the feeling I had after I left, that everything was going to be okay, even though now I wasn’t so sure.

  I finished my first beer and got another. My face was already starting to get warm. I sat there and listened to the chatter all around me. People talking and laughing and generally having a good time. I couldn’t make out any specific conversations, just bits and snippets and it seemed like everyone there was with a group or a part of a couple, and I was the only one sitting alone, feeling completely sorry for myself. It would’ve been easy enough to strike up a conversation with someone, but everyone seemed so involved with the other people they were talking to, and I felt like such an outsider, which was strange because I’d been coming to Failte ever since I turned twenty-one. It was like my home away from home.

  I was on my third beer when someone came over and sat next to me, their elbow brushing mine. I took another sip of my beer before I glanced over to see who it was.

  It was Billy McAllister.

  He was waiting for me to look at him, a smile on his face. “Well fancy meeting you here,” he said. He tapped his beer bottle against my almost-empty pint glass. “Waiting for anyone special?”

  “No,” I said. My cheeks felt flushed, and I was suddenly very glad that he was here. “You, I guess. Just someone to talk to.”

  “I’m so happy to hear that! And I’m told I’m a great talker. I can also be a good listener, too. You look a little down in the dumps. Everything all right?”

  I took a swig of beer. “Yeah,” I said. “I think I’m just tired.”

  “Your boyfriend’s not here?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Ever?”

  “Well . . . I’ve had a boyfriend before, but no, I don’t have one.”

  “Not even a pretend one?”

  He was ribbing me a little, I could tell, just trying to get me to crack a smile. So I did—a tiny one—because I did appreciate his efforts. And just by sitting down next to me and starting a conversation, he had banished that lonely feeling that had descended upon me when I first sat down at the bar. So for that, I was grateful.

  “Believe it or not, I’ve had a boyfriend before,” I said. If he asked more questions, I would tell him about Emmett; I wasn’t going to utter a word about Ian. It might be better if I just didn’t talk about that.

  “Oh, I believe it. But have you ever had a boyfriend who knew how to treat you right? The way you deserved to be treated?”

  “Uh . . .” It felt like the room was starting to spin, though not in an entirely unpleasant way. “That’s debatable.” I patted his knee. “You know,” I said. “You seem like you’d be a very good boyfriend. You’re probably married though, aren’t you? You probably have a wife at home.” I giggled.

  “Oh ha ha, you’re a bit of a funny one, too, aren’t you? No wife at home. That I know of, anyway.”

  “You should find a wife.”

  “Should I?”

  “Yeah. Me, though—I don’t want to be a wife.” Was I really slurring my words this badly or had my ears just stopped working properly?

  He clutched at his chest. “Don’t want to be a wife? You’re breaking my heart.”

  I laughed and finished the last of my beer, thinking that it felt pretty good to be sitting here, laughing with someone. When Billy signaled the bartender to bring me over another beer, I didn’t object.

  But when I finished that one, I knew I had most definitely reached my limit, and if I didn’t stop now, I’d probably start doing something stupid, like trying to climb onto the bar and dance. Or throw up everywhere. Or both.

  “I should be going,” I said. “I think I had four beers. Maybe five. That’s a lot. I’ve got to go to work tomorrow.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  “Oh. Then, no. I don’t have to go to work on a Sunday. I didn’t know what day it was.”

  Billy smiled. “Do you know who you are? What year it is? Who the president is? I’m just joking. Let me walk you home, at least. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  And so we left the bar, and I felt his hand touch the small of my back as we went out the door, but it was more like it was just guiding me out, making sure that I didn’t trip. When we started to walk down the sidewalk, we were close to each other, but not so close that someone might think we were a couple or anything. We were just two friends, going for a walk.

  The fresh air made me a little more alert, even though the ground still felt like it was tilting underneath my feet.

  “Take my arm,” he said, holding his forearm out to me. “You’re a little tipsy. Or I could give you a piggy back ride.” He stopped walking and bent at the knees a little, nodding toward his back. “Hop on.”

  I laughed. “I’m not going to get on your back.”

  “Why not? You don’t think I’d be able to carry you?”

  “No, I just . . .”

  “You want to fall over and scrape your knees?”

  “No.”

  “Then, hop on!”

  “Well . . . okay.” I jumped up and felt him slip his arms underneath my knees as he straightened up. I let my arms dangle over the front of his shoulders, but I could feel myself slipping.

  “You want to help a guy out and hold on a little more tightly there?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  He coughed. “Too tight,” he said. I loosened my arms a little. “Ah, just right,” he said.

  “Okay there, Goldilocks.”

  We both laughed.

  “Thank you for fulfilling this fantasy of mine. Getting to walk down the street with a lovely lady on my back.”

  “Happy to oblige,” I said. He walked easily, didn’t seem to be that burdened by the fact that he was carrying me like this. When was the last time anyone had given me a piggyback? I honestly couldn’t remember.

  “Well, thanks,” I said when we got to the doorstep and I hopped down. I looked around. “I don’t see my stalker. I have a stalker, you know.”

  “Do you, now? I don’t see anyone out here.”

  “I guess he’s not
here at the moment. But he hangs around sometimes. He hasn’t done anything bad yet, but it’s still creepy.”

  “I’m not entirely surprised though, a girl like you. I could take care of it for you, if you wanted.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, you know. That could mean several things. But I certainly don’t want someone following you around when you don’t want them to be following you around.” He chuckled. “But wait a second—don’t you work for a security company? Isn’t this something your boss should be taking care of?”

  “I can actually take care of myself.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  “Well, thank you for walking me home.”

  “Anytime. Thanks for hanging out with me. I’ve really enjoyed these times that we’ve run into each other.”

  “Me too,” I said. I could feel a gigantic yawn getting ready to stretch across my face. I was suddenly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be crawling into my bed, about to fall asleep for ten, maybe eleven hours. I covered my mouth with my hand as though that might somehow keep the yawn at bay. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It just hit me all of a sudden, how tired I am. I really don’t usually drink that much beer.”

  “Kind of a lightweight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, then I will bid you adieu and sweet dreams. We’ll have to plan on doing something at some point, okay? But after you get some rest first.”

  I smiled and unlocked the door. “Yeah sure,” I said, waving goodbye, “That sounds nice.” I was barely able to kick my shoes off and make it to my bed before I fell on top of the covers, sound asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

  I woke up the next morning with an awful taste in my mouth and a pounding headache. I was still wearing the same clothes that I’d worn the day before. The bright sun streaming through the windows hurt my eyes and told me that it was pretty late in the morning, perhaps already afternoon.

  I pushed myself up and stumbled into the bathroom where I drank water directly from the faucet. That made me feel a little better, but when I straightened up, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was plastered down on one side of my head and sticking up all harried and crazy on the other side. There was an indent across the side of my face where I must’ve been sleeping on the seam of the comforter.

  The doorbell rang.

  I jumped, startled. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and went over to the intercom.

  “Who is it?” I said.

  “It’s Ian.”

  Shit. “Um . . . hold on one second.”

  I tried to smooth my hair down and straighten my clothes out, which had twisted around me as I slept last night. Why was he here? My head throbbed as I found a pair of flip flops and slipped them on so I could go out and let him in.

  I squinted against the harsh light that came pouring in behind him when I opened the door.

  “Hey,” he said. “Am I . . . waking you up?”

  “I slept in,” I said. “So, yeah. I should be getting up now anyway, though. What time is it?”

  “It’s ten till one.”

  “In the afternoon?”

  He smiled. “Yeah. Hence the sunlight. Listen, I was out running a few errands and I happened to be in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by. And give you these.” It was only then that I realized he’d been holding one of his arms behind his back. He brought them arm forward, presenting me with a small bouquet of brightly colored flowers. Not roses, but something that looked like daisies, except instead of white they were brilliant shades of red, pink, and yellow.

  “Oh,” I said, smiling. “Those are beautiful.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “I saw them and I thought of you. I know I said I’d give you time to think about everything, and I’m still doing that—I just wanted to stop by and give these to you.”

  I took the flowers from him, our fingertips brushing. “You can come in,” I said. “Just . . . give me a minute; I did just wake up.”

  He followed me back into my apartment, and I was acutely aware of how disheveled and terrible I must look, but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said. “I should . . . go change.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “You look beautiful just like that. And look, if you still need time to think about things, just tell me and I’ll go. I’m not trying to rush you or anything.” “I can’t ignore what I feel for you,” I said. “I don’t want to ignore it. I like this feeling. I like the way you make me feel, I like being around you, and I don’t want to have to stop that. Even though you having a baby with someone else wasn’t what I was really envisioning.”

  A look of relief crossed his face. “Daisy,” he said. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I know it’s asking a whole lot, too, to expect someone to get involved with you even when you’re going to have a kid with someone else. But I want you to know that Annie and I have talked about things, and yeah, eventually there will be a kid around some of the time, but that is not going to change the way I feel toward you.”

  I thought about what Carl had said earlier, about trusting my feelings. I thought about how I’d felt around Billy, how I’d felt around Jonathan—two very nice guys that I enjoyed being around. But being with them paled in comparison to how it was when I was with Ian, and if I was to be honest about how I truly felt, he was the person I wanted to be with, and nothing else mattered.

  We both smiled, and he cupped my chin in his hand, tilting my face toward his, then he leaned down and kissed me.

  We spent the whole day together—what was left of it—and that night we went out to get burritos at a place in Cambridge that Ian liked. He couldn’t find a parking spot in front of my building, so we ended up having to park around the block, and when we rounded the corner and started walking toward my building, I saw him sitting there on the steps again.

  “Shit,” I muttered. Ian looked at me.

  “What?” he said, following my gaze. “You know him?”

  But before I could answer, he was getting up and hurrying toward us. I could feel Ian’s energy change; the air suddenly seemed sharp, almost cold, although that was impossible—wasn’t it? It was the middle of summer. I glanced up at him and saw him staring intently at Noah.

  “Daisy,” Noah said, shooting a wary look at Ian. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Ian,” he said. He was several inches taller than Noah and outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. “Can we help you with something there, boss?”

  “I was just waiting for you to get back,” Noah said, looking at me now. “I’ve been here for—”

  “Do you want him waiting here for you?” Ian asked me.

  “Noah,” I said. I no longer felt scared now that Ian was standing right there beside me, but I suddenly didn’t want anything bad to happen to Noah, either. “Noah, please, why don’t you just leave me alone? I’ve told you that I’m not interested. You’ve got to stop doing this.”

  “Daisy, if we could just talk for a second—”

  Ian let out a short, barking laugh. “I don’t think so.”

  “I think that’s up for her to decide.”

  “Yeah, and I think she’s already made it clear how she feels about it by asking you to leave her alone. She doesn’t want to talk to you; she doesn’t want you hanging around; she wants you to fuck off to wherever it is that you came from. Comprende? Now, I’m not the sort of person who likes to have to repeat myself, so if you are unable to get that message through your thick fucking skull, perhaps you need me to soften it up for you a bit first. And I’m referring to your skull, not the message. Daisy’s been far too nice with you as it is; I’m a lot less nice than she is. So about face, kid. Go find someone who’s interested.”

  I could see Noah sizing up Ian, realizing that there was no way in hell he’d ever come out of any physical altercation with him on top. He gave me one last pleading look.

  “Fine,”
he said when I didn’t say anything. “I don’t know who you think you are, telling people how to live their lives,” he said as he started to walk away. “You don’t get to call the shots!” he shouted, right as he was about to disappear around the block.

  Ian stared after him, jaw clenched.

  “Come on,” he said after a minute, “let’s get inside.”

  Inside, Ian paced in front of the window. “That’s unfuckingbelievable,” Ian said. “How often does he do that sort of thing? Why didn’t you tell me? He could be dangerous. He is clearly completely unstable. I should beat his fucking ass next time he comes around.”

  “I think it’ll help that he saw us together,” I said. “I’ve been trying to tell him that there’s nothing going on between us and he just doesn’t seem to be able to get the idea through his head.”

  Now, Ian turned. “Is there? Or was there?”

  “What? Something going on between us? No! We got a smoothie together at the gym once. And it was awkward and weird, and I figured that we were both relieved when it was over and we could go our separate ways and not have to speak to each other again.”

  I could tell he was trying to restrain himself. “How was it awkward and weird?”

  “I don’t know, it just . . . was. Our conversation wasn’t in sync at all. There’d be these long silences, and then I’d start to say something right when he would, and then both of us would stop, waiting for the other to continue, and then there’d be another awkward silence, and then it would basically just continue like that, on this horrible cycle, until finally it was over. And that was it.”

  “Really?” he asked. “That sounds terrible.”

  “It was. I didn’t . . . I didn’t feel this connection with him the way I do with you. It’s one of those things that hard to describe, I guess, and maybe doesn’t even make sense if you’ve never felt it before. But beyond thinking you’re the most handsome guy that I’ve ever seen, I really feel like there is this connection there.”

  My words seemed to have a calming effect on him, and he walked away from the window and came over, putting his arms around me. “I don’t want some creep out there, stalking you,” he said. “That’s not okay.”