A Double Dose of Billionaire: Part Three

by Rachel Ellis

  Thankfully, he led me to the other direction. I caught a glance of Riley standing at the entrance, holding himself together perfectly, like he always did. He was greeting the guests, putting on a sparkling, hundred-watt smile as each of them arrived and shook his hands. The same hands that were all over me an hour ago, searching my curves and prying my legs apart before I abruptly pushed them away.

  "I'd like you to meet Mrs. Appleton, Scarlet," Ryan said, guiding me forward by the small of my back. I tore my eyes from Riley and whipped my head around. An old, but elegant lady stood next to him. Large, shiny, diamonds the size of my thumb clipped onto both her ears. She wore a sleek cream-colored suit and a pencil skirt.

  The name Appleton immediately struck a chord with me.

  "Appleton Pastries?" I said, not believing my eyes. My head was practically going dizzy with the amount of awe it was filling up with. "You're Juliana Appleton."

  In other words, my idol.

  I couldn't decide whether I should have been leaping for joy or crying. Juliana Appleton was practically a legend in my eyes. The woman who accomplished everything I wanted to, plus more. At the age of seventeen, despite being embedded in a deep poverty cycle, she decided to strive for success. She went from selling bread on the streets to owning chains of bakeries all over the country in a timespan of only five years. It wasn't just her talent for baking that brought her so far, but her business aptitude and foresight.

  If I tried, I'd probably be able to write a whole biography about her.

  She offered a wrinkled hand. "Nice to meet you, dear. Ryan mentioned you when he sent his invitation." She spoke with the same British accent I heard her use in interviews.

  I had to mentally kick myself into action. Shaking her hand, I stuttered, "Ma-madam... It's such an honor. I can't... I don't believe... I can't even put it in words. I've read every single one of your books, and you're such an inspiration." I was certain I had made a blubbering fool of myself.

  "She's a huge fan," Ryan said, placing both his hands on my shoulders. It somehow managed to reel me back to Earth. I couldn't believe he actually remembered me talking about Juliana. I had talked to them last week about my dream of owning a chain of bakeries, like she did, and mentioned her along the way.

  She raised her brows, and then grinned. The creases around her eyes worked in an odd manner, making her look more motherly. "I'm surprised. I don't have too many fans."

  My brain felt like it was going to explode with joy and panic. "I watched your TV show when I was ten. You were amazing." I managed to hold back a 'Can I be your granddaughter?' and saving myself from acting like a total creep.

  She laughed. "Oh, I remember that, The Cake Bake, wasn't it? That silly thing. I thought only housewives watched that show. I'm glad you liked it, dearie."

  "Me too," Ryan said. "Scarlet here makes wonderful pastries."

  "I might try them some time."

  I thought I was going to faint right there and there. A culinary legend tasting my baking? My mortal self was unworthy of such luxuries.

  Fidgeting with my fingers, I tried to contain myself. But the feat turned out too great. Like a true fan, I needed a souvenir, something to remind me of this encounter in the future.

  "Can I have your autograph?" I asked, stepping way out of professional boundaries.

  I turned to Ryan for approval. He gave me a light nod, which encouraged me further.

  "Oh my," she replied, chuckling. "It's not every day that someone asks me for an autograph."

  I took a notepad from my handbag. I wished I had brought one of her cookbooks with me, but I left them all in my apartment. A piece of paper would have to make do. It'd be the most precious piece of paper I'd ever have.

  She took the pen I offered. "To the loveliest fan I've met yet, Scarlet," she said as she wrote.

  I carefully accepted my notepad back from Juliana, treating the two-dollar booklet as if it were made of gold. "Thank you so much."

  "You're welcome. Have a lovely evening."

  "You've made it the best evening of my life."

  Her husband came along and she wrapped her arms over his. Leonard Appleton—the man who made Juliana's success possible by tending to the family while she was out striving, a man who I also deeply respected.

  The elderly couple bade their goodbyes and sauntered to the other corner of the ballroom to socialize with other wealthy folks.

  Ryan stared at me, amused.

  I squinted. "Don't judge me."

  "I'm not judging." He spoke with a sarcastic and patronizing tone.

  "You totally are. I was behaving like an awestruck blubbering idiot." I knew it, but I didn't control myself well enough.

  He pointed at my chest. "I never mentioned anything of the like. You said it yourself."

  "Bastard," I cursed, grinning.

  Riley walked into our conversation. His spirits seemed to be up today. Smoothing his hair with a hand, he asked, "What's up?"

  "Scarlet just met Juliana," Ryan replied.

  "How was it?"

  "Well, Scarlet said she acted like a blubbering idiot."

  "You're supposed to disagree!" I fumed, my inner-self laughing.

  Riley responded in his cool-as-a-cucumber manner as he usually did. "I'm sure she was great." A warm glow seeped into his eyes.

  He always knew what to say.

  "So how are the directors of TTA international reacting to the event?" I asked, trying to redirect the conversation to something unrelated to my moment of weakness.

  Riley shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary. It's just a formality, anyway." But then he beamed at me. "You planned it very professionally, though. Thank you."

  His charming smile nearly took my breath away. It should have been a crime for a man to look as good as he did.

  "You're welcome," I said.

  We chatted idly as time passed along. They made teasing jokes at me, while I tried to keep my expression stern. I acted like I hated being teased, but it was actually quite fun.

  Then, Ryan visibly tensed.

  Before I could ask him what was wrong, I got my answer. Mrs. Crawford was ambling toward us, the same man who I met at the twins' mansion following behind. She painted her lipstick extra red today. Just looking at her tempted me to smear her lipstick across her face before I slapped that smug grin away.

  She flashed me a dismissive glance before turning to her sons. "How are my sweethearts doing? I'm sure you're not wasting too much time fooling around with unworthy playmates, are you, my darlings?"

  How much I wanted to dig my manicure into her throat. "I'm certain their silver-spooned mother wouldn't let them hang around with such unworthy commoners," I cut in, distasteful sarcasm lacing my words.

  Her jaw hardened, the same way the twins' bodies stiffened.

  "Scarlet is more than worthy, Mom," Ryan said, pulling me closer with his arm. "And I don't appreciate you insulting my future wife, whether you put it mildly or not."

  My cheeks turned pink at his blatant proclamation. I knew we were going to settle down together, since we decided we'd raise our baby in a joint effort, but they never mentioned marriage. How would that work out anyway, with two of them and one of me? The law wouldn’t accept it.

  Mrs. Crawford parted her lips as she heard son’s rude, but truthful, accusation. "I never made any insults."

  Riley sighed heavily. "We asked you to leave her alone. We're not leaving Scarlet, so you've just got to accept it."

  She sneered, "I spend my years raising the both of you up, toiling away, giving up so many things. And this is how you treat me?"

  "We didn't treat you badly. We only dated who we’ve wanted to."

  "You dated women whom I don't like. What do you think your father will say about this?"

  A gray-haired, regal-looking man joined our conversation. He had the same green eyes as the twins. With a concerned expression, he bent down and grabbed Mrs. Crawford's hand with his own. "Someone mentioned me?"

  My
mouth went dry as realization dawned onto me. He was the twins' father—Richard Crawford, the self-made billionaire who controlled most of the property market.

  "Hi Dad," the twins said at the same time. They visibly loosened up after their father appeared.

  I, on the other hand, had my nerves bundled up into a string of excitement and anxiety. The CEO of Crawford, possibly one of the most powerful men in the country, was standing in front of me. I hadn't expected him to act that way—calm, with a hint of lovingness behind his warm smile. His pictures and news of him on the internet portrayed him as a taciturn and cold figure.

  He carried hints of the twins' features, having the same curve on his nose, and their green eyes. "I hope your mother hasn't been giving you too much trouble."

  "We're trying to cope," Ryan responded.

  Mrs. Crawford scowled. "What do you mean trouble?"

  Her husband placed his hand on her shoulder. I could tell he was treating her gently. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Why don't you go get yourself something to eat? You haven't been eating enough lately." How he managed to find it in him to treat a monster like her so tenderly boggled my mind.

  She tipped her chin up. "You always do this."

  "Please."

  "But I'm not hungry."

  "I'll join you in a minute."

  Mrs. Crawford hesitated for a second, but she listened to her husband eventually. She shot a daggered stare at me before strutting away. Good riddance. She walked away in a huff, slamming her heels onto the marbled floor. Richard Crawford angered, yet subdued her at the same time. I could definitely get used to watching her like this.

  "Nice to meet you, Scarlet," he said, offering a handshake.

  Perplexed by the unlikelihood of this situation, I gripped his hand. "Nice to meet you too, sir."

  "I'm sorry about my wife."

  My first instinct was to yap on all the trouble she gave me, but for the sake of manners, I contained myself. "Oh, that's okay. She hasn't been too much trouble." Besides getting my dad fired, and giving me a couple of sleepless nights.

  "She's not exactly the nicest person," Richard Crawford said.

  I didn't know how to react to that. Why was he still with her if he thought of her as mean? The man was old, but still reasonably attractive, with defined features like a strong jaw and those beautiful green eyes he shared with the twins. It wasn't uncommon to remarry at his age. "Well, um, no she isn't."

  "I'll try to make sure she doesn't give you any trouble in the future."

  Ryan intertwined his fingers with mine. "We'll make sure of it."

  "She can be very lovely. Things just haven't been the same lately." A tinge of darkness crept into his expression. "Try not to hate her too much."

  "I don't hate her," I lied.

  "The function’s running very smoothly by the way. Good job. Ryan and Riley talked to me about you. I'm expecting to see more of you around."

  I was sure he was saying that to be modest, but I bowed my head and replied, "Thank you," anyway.

  When he left to return to the side of his wife, I looked up at the twins and asked, "What was that?"

  They both raised a brow.

  "Our parents?" Ryan asked. "What about them?"

  "I don't know. They feel... off."

  "They're not exactly a romantic couple."

  I should have expected as much. The scandals of the rich weren't exactly old news. "Oh."

  "My dad was right though. My mother used to be really nice."

  Not believing his statement, I gave him a confused look.

  "Then she got pregnant with a third child. My father was busy with his company, and he hardly ever came home early because of work. Her parents passed away around that time, and she had us to take care of. There were one or two helpers around, but she wanted to be there for us most of the time. Eventually, she stressed herself out too much and my dad wasn't there to support her. Her personality changed. She got angry more easily, and went into fits regularly. One day, as they fought, my mom ran down the stairs and tripped. She had a miscarriage."

  I sucked on my lower lip. "That sounds... serious."

  Riley added, "A few years later, she was diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder. My dad blames himself for it, so he never left. But it's difficult to love a woman who only cares for herself."

  I put my fist over my mouth to hold back a chortle. So, Mrs. Crawford was a clinically certified narcissist. Her story didn't invoke a single ounce of sympathy in me, although I shouldn't have been so harsh on her. But her disorder led to a destructive behavior that didn't just affect her, but everyone else around her. In fact, it probably hurt others more than herself, considering she had a billionaire still longing to protect her well-being.

  However, it did manage to make me hate her less, if only a bit. "That's interesting, I suppose."

  ***

  "I need to go to the washroom," I said, holding my hand over my stomach. Maybe it was something I ate, or pregnancy nausea again. It was a light discomfort, but I wanted to wash up, just in case.

  Ryan reached for my hand. "Are you okay? Do you want me to follow you?"

  "It's fine. I can handle myself."

  My heels clicked onto the marble flooring as I made my way. I was sick of throwing up. The vomiting had lessened, but still got on my nerves. I turned around a corner.

  Walking out of a restroom was a blond man. He wore his hair long, nearly shoulder-length. His blue eyes added to his princely look. I couldn't help but think he was gorgeous, but something about his demeanor, and the way he glanced over me irked my gut. He looked familiar—I might have met him before, somewhere, but nothing reminded me of anything in particular.

  I made my way to brush past him. Then he smiled and said, "You're Scarlet Fontaine, aren't you? Riley’s secretary?"

  With that, running away ceased to be an option. That would be plain rude. I acknowledged him with a short bow of my head. "Yes, and you are?" I offered a customary handshake.

  Shaking my hand, he replied, "Wesley. Wesley Goodwill." He winked as he told me his name, but what was meant to be charming made me strangely more ill.

  Goodwill? Recognition of his name made me part my lips in shock. He was one of the sons of the TTA international directors. I hadn’t heard much about him, but I could have seen him in one of the photos when researching. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  "It's okay. I prefer to lay low." His gaze lowered to my cleavage. I adjusted my dress. That didn't do much—the fabric of the dress slipped right back into place.

  "Um, Mr. Goodwill, sir, if you may excuse me." The bastard was starting to get too close. Without realizing it, I had been backed up against the wall. I tried to slide away by side-stepping.

  He raised his arm to block my way, and I nearly crashed my face onto it. "It's rude to leave so quickly," he said. I could smell the scent of his breath—champagne maybe. His other hand gripped the side of my face.

  Any resolve to remain polite had drained away the moment he decided to manhandle me. "Well, sir, it's rude to put your filthy hands on someone else's face." I considered spitting into his eye, but things haven't escalated that much, yet. Two seconds later, I regretted my decision. I should have assaulted him as soon as I could.

  A smirk brushed the corner of his mouth. "Funny. I like that."

  Suddenly, he pressed his chapped lips on my neck. I wanted to scream, but he covered my face before I could. Agonizingly, his kisses traveled to my mouth. I tried to shut my mouth tight. His touch was slimy, disgusting, and fetid. Roughly, his hand slipped under my dress and groped the mounds of my flesh. I struggled against his grip. Fear had begun to creep up to my stomach, adding to my nausea. An urge to wash every part of my body he touched rushed over my skin.

  He wasn't the twins. I didn't trust him, love him. Each graze made my hairs stand on their ends. His strength overpowered me easily, crushing my body under his weight.

  Fuck, I don't want this. His prickly tongue forced its way
down my throat, nearly choking me. I made inaudible sounds, supposedly muffled screams.

  For a brief second, he let go to say, "You're begging to be fucked."

  "You son of a—"

  I was silenced before I could make enough of a commotion. I needed someone to stumble upon us. There were multiple restrooms, but the one I chose was further away and more secluded than the others were, since I assumed the others would have been packed with long queues.

  I thought hard of ways I could subdue my assaulter. A punch or a kick? He didn't allow me to do any of them. He held my hands firmly in his grip while pressing my leg down with his. His bulge nudged my thigh. The thought of me turning him on sent shivers of disgust down my back.

  "Scarlet?" I heard a voice call. Ryan. I could recognize his voice in a heartbeat. He must have come to check up on me. Thank God. Relief seeped through my body.

  Wesley backed away and turned his head. I caught a glimpse of shock registering on his expression, but he expertly masked it. "Mr. Crawford, I was just showing your secretary some... appreciation."

  The anger Ryan emanated felt strong enough to tear buildings down. "Get the fuck away from her."

  He backed away, if only a little, but that was enough to give me an opening. Hesitation aside, I raised my leg and landed my kick squarely in between his legs. The contortion on his face was priceless.

  The man fell to the floor, cradled up like a baby. "Shit! Why the fuck would you do that, you mad woman?"

  He was groaning when I kicked that spot, again, intentionally angling my heels so it stabbed the hand covering his groins in the most painful way possible. The devil in me was chuckling evilly, fully embracing its sadistic nature.

  "Stop it! Please. Damn it! My father won't be happy about this."

  I thought I had done sufficient damage myself, but Ryan didn't think so. He rushed toward Wesley and picked the bastard up by his collar. Wesley whimpered as he was dragged up, still covering his manhood. I almost felt sorry for the guy, but the lingering scent of his touch refueled my hatred and let me enjoy the way he groveled beneath Ryan.

  "Stay the fucking hell away from my woman," Ryan said, pulling a fist backwards and punching the poor man's nose. I heard a crack sound. A smug grin split my jaw.