Billionaire Games

by Michelle Love

  I wish I could see that to be sure. And maybe to get one last look at him.

  Oh my goodness! What has gotten into me?

  I take a left at the next light to get away from them even though it will take me fifteen minutes longer this way. I just can’t have him staring at me like I assume he was.

  Easing off the gas, I notice a chocolate-colored Jaguar hauling ass behind me. They must have somewhere important to be so I pull off to the side to allow the speeding car to pass me.

  It’s him!

  Wait, I can’t be sure that was him. He was going too fast to really see. Great, now I’m seeing him all over the place. What has he done to me? And why wasn’t he with the horrible bitch?

  My curiosity is too much and I hit the button on the screen to call the front desk back at the spa. “Dallas Day Spa, Dave speaking. How can I help you today?”

  “Dave, it’s Mercy. You can help me by telling me if Mr. Hurst accompanied Miss Harmsworth in our car earlier.”

  “He did not, Mercy,” he tells me and it sets something off inside of me. A little heated triumph.

  “Did he say why he didn’t go with her?”

  “No. But if you ask me, he seemed to be ashamed of her. How come you didn’t let him pay the bill, Mercy?” he asks.

  “I have my reasons,” I say. I don’t even know myself what they are. Stubborn pride I guess. “You didn’t happen to see what he drove, did you?”

  “A dark brown Jag. It’s a beast of mechanical engineering. I saw it when the valet brought it up to the front. I happened to be standing there with him talking about things. He’s a nice guy. Not stuffy like a lot of the rich guys who come here are. He asked a few questions about you.”

  “What?” I ask like a teenage girl. “What did he ask about me? Oh, God! What did you tell him? Oh my God, Dave! Please tell me you didn’t tell him anything about me.”

  “Whoa! Calm down, Mercy,” he says with a laugh. “You seem a little frazzled by the man. He’s just a man, Mercy. Anyway, he asked about your personal situation, if you had a boyfriend or a crazy ex-lover he might have to contend with.”

  “Contend with?” I ask feeling somewhat confused. “There will be no contending. He asked me out for drinks. I told him no. See, no need to contend with anyone or thing.”

  Another laugh erupts out of Dave, then he says, “Okay, no need to contend. And that’s what I told him.”

  “Wait, you told him I had no one in my life?” I ask, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. “What did he think about that? Did he think I’m a complete loser for being all alone?”

  “Not at all. He seemed happy you were all alone. He also asked me where you usually hung out on your days off,” he says.

  “My God! What did you tell him, Dave?” I shriek at him.

  “I told him I didn’t know,” he says. “Because I don’t know. What do you do on your off time, Mercy?”

  * * *

  I’ve kept my private life, mine, and mine alone. I don’t go telling my story to anyone. I don’t like the sorrow-filled eyes looking at me with pity and asking how I’m doing with it all.

  “Never mind what I do. I do plenty,” I say because I do a lot on my off time. I probably work harder on my days off than I do at work. Being a mom isn’t a very relaxing job. Not with a two and a four-year-old, anyway. “Did he ask anything else?”

  “No, his car pulled up and that ended our conversation. “Mercy, why would you tell the man no about having a drink or two after work? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Never mind, Dave. You’d never understand. Thanks for filling me in. I appreciate your help. You should get back to work. I’ve taken up too much of your time on this silly thing as it is. Bye now,” I say then end the call before he can try to dive into my personal life any further.

  * * *

  The daycare comes into view and my heart sputters as I think about the kids and wonder how their day went. I love those little midgets!

  I hope they don’t protest too much that I have to stop off at the house and change my clothes. I can’t go into Pizza Palace dressed like this. I do foresee a fight, though.

  As I pull into the parking area, I think about that awesome Jag and the awesome man who was behind the wheel. His fast driving was dangerous and he’s nowhere near the kind of man I would need in my life.

  I need a safe man who’s responsible and great with kids. I need a man who drives slow and watches out for other traffic. A real defensive driver is what I need in my life. Not a reckless man who thinks he’s invincible.

  No, Jude Hurst is not the man for me. There may not be a man for me after all. It might be me and the kids forever and ever.

  Oh my, that sounds a little depressing, doesn’t it?

  Maybe I should think about finding a man. Not Jude Hurst, of course. But someone to share my nights with. Not that I have room in my nights anyway. Not with getting up to take Mia to the bathroom at least twice a night.

  No, I’m better off alone. The kids need me.

  Jude

  Armed with the knowledge that Mercy Noland is free of any men, I’m making my plan to find her this weekend. A little chance encounter might break open some of that person she has closed off.

  The guy at the spa who works for her gave me some insight into the woman. She’s extremely professional at all times. He’s never witnessed even one occasion in the last couple of years since she took over the management of the facility where she lost her cool.

  I’d like to see that woman lose her cool just for a little while. Screaming my name as I pleasure her is where I’d like to see her lose it. By the way the guy talked, he’s never known of any man in her life these last couple of years.

  That makes me highly interested in her. Almost like a virgin, fresh and ready to be picked. She thinks she can throw me off. But I’m a long time hunter and she’s in for a surprise with me.

  An infinite amount of patience is required in hunting and I have all the patience I need to make her mine. She has no idea about me. I get what I set my eyes on. Always.

  My sights are set on her now. She is my prey. I have many tricks to catch my quarry. I’m above nothing when it comes to getting what I’m after.

  Pulling into the private road that leads to our family estate, I see my father has purchased a few more Longhorn cattle to reside on the left side of the road. A black and white one and two red and white ones. All have extremely long horns and seem to be getting along well with the other eight he already had.

  The members of my family have different things they collect. Dad has his cattle of various breeds he keeps separated by miles of fences. Mom has her little dogs. Also of various breeds. They are not separated at all and roam freely all over the house.

  Mom has a maid just for the dogs and the clean-up required as they rarely like to venture outdoors to do their business. Even though they have a yard exclusively for them and that business they do a hell of a lot of.

  My younger brother, Zeek, collects antique cars. My sister, Rose, collects porcelain dolls. She’s twenty-four-years-old with a room that adjoins hers and it’s full of her dolls. It’s weird if you ask me.

  Then there’s the youngest of us all, my baby brother, Ram, he’s twenty-one and as wild as they come. He collects motorcycles. He also rides them wherever and whenever he can. He’s a daredevil who’s broken several bones in his young life.

  I collect guns. I have so many guns, I had to use the spare bedroom next to mine for them. Six gun-safes hold my personal arsenal in that room that I keep locked up tight.

  It was my mother’s father who taught me how to hunt. I was the first born and he took me under his wing when I was just five years old. I’d go sit with him in his hunting blind.

  * * *

  Depending on what time of the year it was, we’d hunt everything from deer to squirrels. He also taught me how to clean and prepare them. We never wasted a thing on the animals we took.

  I miss that old man. I lost
him five years ago to cancer. He taught me so much about nature and how to respect it. None of my brothers or sister ever wanted to go with Grampa. They found hunting boring.

  Not me, though. I loved it. A bad day of hunting is better than a good day of work. One day, I hope to have a son or two to pass down what all Grampa taught me. Though I haven’t even begun to settle down yet.

  I haven’t found the right woman for me. Everyone I know is wealthy and spoiled in ways I don’t care for. I know I’m spoiled too. I’ve gotten every single thing I’ve ever asked for.

  Well, now that you count Miss Mercy Noland and her not giving me what I want, I can’t say I’ve gotten every single thing I’ve ever asked for, anymore. I’ll have to change that.

  As I pull up, I hear my old hunting dog I inherited from Grampa barking as he hears my car pull up. The old hound dog knows the sound of my car and he only gets excited when he hears me pull up. He could give less than a shit about any other member of our household.

  Well, that’s not entirely true. He likes the cook, Mrs. Juarez, too. But that’s only because she gives him all the bones he could ever want. He has his own yard right off the kitchen and his weight is showing that as he waddles around to the driver’s side door to greet me.

  Rubbing his red head, I say, “How’s my puppy, Sebastien?”

  He makes odd little growls and groans as his answer which I assume means he’s seen better days. He follows me along to go inside the mansion. It’s a large three story number that my parents have added onto at least three times since I can remember.

  All of us have our own suite of rooms and my old dog follows me as I go toward mine. A shrill cry has us both groaning as it hurts our ears. I see Ariel has made it home first.

  * * *

  I didn’t even notice the limo out front. “What are you doing here? Where’s the car?” I ask.

  “I let it go. I don’t want to go alone, Jude. I want you to go with me. Since you won’t, I told the driver to leave. I kept the vouchers, though. That way you and I can still go out and have fun. Only you can drive us. Doesn’t that sound better?” she asks as she waves the cards around.

  I hold out my hand and ask, “Can I see those?”

  She hands the cards over to me as she walks toward the guest house. “I’ll be getting ready. I want you to wear something better than that suit. It has no tie or anything. I’m thinking since that one club is private that you should wear a tux. I like the way you look in a tux anyway.”

  I spot Mercy’s name on the back of one of the cards and underneath it, there’s a little note saying to call her with the amount of the bill and there’s a phone number. It might be her cell phone.

  I cross my fingers that I’m right as I walk up the staircase that leads to wing of the house my rooms are located in. Ariel finally figures out that I’m ignoring her and turns to look at me with a loud yell, “Did you hear me, Jude?”

  I nod and walk up the stairs. There’s no way I’m going to take her anywhere. I have my sights set on Mercy and Mercy, alone.

  She seems to be the kind of woman who wouldn’t give the time of day to a man she sees as a player. To get her attention, I will have to camouflage myself as a one-woman man.

  It’s not that I couldn’t be one. I can be whatever I want after all. I’ve just never seen fit to before. And after I find out more about the young woman, I may release her back into the singles pit where she came from. Or I might keep her as a trophy. Then again, I might make her my pet.

  One never knows what they’ll do with their prey once they’ve managed to trap them!

  Mercy

  With both kids in the giant pit of plastic balls, I take the time to myself to use my cell phone to Google Jude Hurst. And just like that, I see a few pictures of him on social media.

  His Facebook page has a link to it so I click it and the next thing I know I’m stalking his page.

  What am I doing?

  Well, I am here anyway so I may as well see what he’s really about. The first thing I notice is his profile picture is new. Like today new. He’s wearing the brown suit he had on earlier and that same little smile that makes people think he knows something no one else does.

  He has a lot of friends on his page and I have to say most of them seem to be wealthy too. There are a hell of a lot of pictures of people on yachts and private jets and in exotic places. No, I am not in his league at all!

  Then I see one picture of him wearing camouflage with his arm around an old man who is also wearing similar gear. An old, red bloodhound is standing in front of them with a duck in its mouth. Jude’s grin goes from one ear to the other and he seems to be very happy.

  A few more pictures are here with him doing some type of hunting in them. So the man is a hunter. I didn’t call that one. I mean, the wealthy men I’ve seen at the spa don’t seem the hunter type. But then again I have a mindset that most men who hunt are named Bubba and have long beards and smell kind of funny.

  Jude didn’t smell funny at all. Quite the opposite, he smelled wonderful.

  Stop!

  I have got to stop thinking about this man. Not only am I not in his league, he’s not what I need or want. He’s a fast man and I know he only wants to get into my pants then he’ll leave me wanting more as he goes off to Peru or Russia on his next billionaire excursion.

  That will leave me heartbroken at home with two little kids. I couldn’t even drink my pain away after he leaves me because I have to stay sober to take care of my niece and nephew.

  No, he’s a risk. He’s a heartbreaker. He’s dangerous. But damn it, he’s hot.

  Oh, look here. It says he has a Master’s Degree in Kinesiology. Maybe that’s why he’s so well built. Here’s a picture with his shirt off and oh, Lord!

  My body just went about ten degrees hotter and I can’t seem to take my eyes off the picture of the man with massive muscles all over his chest and those abs! He’s built like a statue.

  He can’t be real. That picture has to have been doctored. No man is that perfect. No man!

  My cell rings and I find myself juggling it as it startles me. Once I have it steady back in my hands I see it’s a local number that I don’t recognize. But it could be important so I answer it, “Mercy Noland here.”

  * * *

  “Well, hey there, Mercy Noland. Guess who this is?”

  The sound of the male voice on the other end is soft, deep, the tiniest bit gravelly, and I know who it is immediately.

  “How did you get my private number?” I ask.

  “How do you think?” he asks back.

  I pop my forehead with my palm and remember that my cell number was on the back of the voucher for the private club so I could pay the bill over the phone for that bitch tonight.

  “So, you found my number. Are you two having fun? I hope you are. I meant for you too. Is Miss Harmsworth doing better? I hope she is. I want to apologize again for her injury. It was a misfortunate accident. Please tell her…”

  “Mercy,” he says, cutting me off. “I’m not with her. I’m in my bedroom thinking about you. And it sounds like you’re at some badass club having a great time. So tell me where you are and let me come join you.”

  He could not be more wrong about where I am and it makes me laugh, “Ha! I’m not at a club. And I’m leaving soon, anyway. It’s getting late, I have to get back home.”

  “It’s eight o’clock, Mercy,” he says with a deep chuckle that makes my toes curl it's so manly and sexy and my Lord I have to stop thinking about him like that.

  “Already?” I ask as I really had no idea it had gotten so late.

  The kids still need baths and the house is fifteen minutes away and they need to be in bed by eight-thirty or they’ll be so cranky and then it’ll be hard to get them to sleep.

  “Already?” he asks, chuckling again. “Mercy, that’s not late at all. Not one bit. Now, come on and let me in on where you are so I can come see you. I miss you already.”

  A little ch
ill runs through me with his choice of words. Then I shake that off and realize he’s such a player. “Miss me? You don’t even know me, Mr. Hurst.”

  * * *

  Making my way to the ball pit, I start the long process of trying to get the kids’ attention with a whistle and a wave. But like all the other mothers, I’m completely ignored.

  “I know that, Mercy. I want to get to know you. What’s the harm in that?” he asks.

  I kick off my flip flops and head into the pit of despair to gather my niece and nephew and say, “Sorry, Mr. Hurst. I really have to go. Goodbye.” With a swipe of one finger, I end the call and put the phone in my bra as I fish for the kids. “Carter, Mia, come on. It’s getting late.”

  A voice comes out from under the plastic balls, “No! We aren’t ready yet.” It’s Carter’s voice I hear.

  I start to dig in the area I heard his voice come from. “I know, Pumpkin, but it’s getting late and you both still need baths.”

  A ridge forms underneath the balls and I see two little figures bolting away from me. Making a lunge to intercept them, I grab the back of a shirt and pull up kids that are not mine. “Hey, leave my kids alone,” comes a shout from an angry mom.

  “Sorry,” I let them go and reach into the balls at another lump in them. “There you are, Carter. Grab your sister and let’s go.”

  “Awe, man,” he whines as he pulls his hand up and his sister dangles from it. “We have to go, Mia. Aunt Mercy is being a grumpy old lady again.”

  Pulling them along with me, I head out of the noisy pen of kids and balls, getting knocking in the head by one and listening to laughter fill the air as whoever threw it is being high-fived by a bunch of the little scoundrels.

  As I pull the kids out of the pit, I think about what I could be doing right now instead of wrestling them and dodging incoming, tiny, plastic balls. I could be sitting across a small table, sipping some fancy little drink while staring into the green-brown eyes of one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.