100 Days: A Billionaire Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Heading toward the elevator, it feels so strange making this journey without all the fear I had before. Now I’m just worried about how to fit in with my world order.

  When I get to the salon, a gal there is waiting for me. “Lucy Tomlinson?” she asks when I arrive, but she already knows the answer.

  “Yes, thank you,” I say nervously, unsure of what else to say.

  The woman who greets me seems to be about my age. She makes me feel like a child, though, when I look at perfectly manicured nails or even just the clean lines of her outfit. I’m just wearing what I wore the night before and I feel horribly out of place.

  She can practically read my mind, because she takes me to the back room of the salon and she has clothes, in my size. Jeans … jeans that cost more than my apartment’s rent. When I slide into the dark wash denim I can’t believe how well they fit me. I had no idea that a pair of jeans could make me look so different, so together. “Mr. Sandoval asked me to pick up a few things for you,” she says, waving her arm around the room. Bags of clothing, all new, all my size, colors that look good on me. I'm in awe. Someone else pops in the room and carts everything off when I’m done getting dressed, taking it up to the penthouse.

  I guess I should be excited? Or maybe insulted. I’m still not quite sure how I'm supposed to feel about being owned by Gian. I’m not certain what I actually feel. I can barely breathe.

  “I know this is really overwhelming, Lucy. I’m Margot by the way,” she says, and places an arm on my shoulder and rubs. It's comforting and a small smile forms at my lips despite the confusion of today. “The truth is that I’ve never seen Mr. Sandoval actually take an interest in anyone since…well, you’re a blessed girl, let’s just say that,” Margot sweeps whatever she was about to say under the rug.

  She takes me to get my nails manicured, and while they are drying, Margot does my hair. When that’s done, my makeup. I look like a whole new person … and I feel like one when Margot sits with me for pedicures. For just a moment, sitting there with her, it seems like I could be hanging out with a friend. If I had friends.

  “Thank you for all of this,” I say to Margot. She shoots me a beaming smile that I can’t help but return. No matter how confusing everything else is, I feel like I can really trust Margot and that’s something to smile about.

  Over the next few weeks, I come to Margot at the salon each day and during her lunch break we talk. We never bring up Gian again and I find that I enjoy talking about anything random with her.

  Gian shows up at one of our lunches one day, which is odd because I normally don’t see him until the evenings. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, and my whole body heats up. I can feel the heat in my cheeks and I figure I don't need the blush that I applied today from the products that Margot gave me. Before he withdraws from the kiss, Gian whispers into my ear. “You don’t need to keep working at the diner, you know. You don’t need to keep your apartment.”

  Leaning back, I see him look at my face and run his lower lip across his teeth. He’s not sure how I’ll respond.

  A week of living in the penthouse and traveling back to my former life has me unsure of how I want to respond either.

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly, because that’s really all I can say for now.

  “I’m going to work late tonight. Do you think you and Margot could have some fun tonight? I don’t want you sitting up in the penthouse bored,” Gian says. His concern sounds genuine, and I don’t think he actually wants to work late. Of course he doesn’t. He would rather be with me.

  I’m touched. I’m also wondering why he assumes that I would just sit up in the penthouse alone. He’s right, but that’s beside the point, you know?

  “Am I allowed to go somewhere else?” I say, surprised by the venom in my voice. I’ve thought of Margot as my friend this whole time, and the hurt that flashes in her eyes tells me the she must feel the same.

  “You’re not my prisoner,” Gian says in a gruff voice. “You can do whatever you like. I just don’t want you to sequester yourself,” he says, measuring out each word.

  Is it because he doesn’t know how to say what he means, or because he’s lying?

  Margot is uncomfortable with the tension and interjects. “I have just the thing for a girl’s night,” she says with a wave of her hand.

  Gian smiles, a little off guard, but leans in to kiss me on the lips this time. It's just a small peck, but it makes me close my eyes and forget everything for the seconds his warmth overtakes mine. “Have fun, Lucy,” he says and turns to walk away.

  It's like a hurricane overtakes me when he leaves. The air's entirely sucked out of the room.

  Margot places her hand on mine. “I really do have something fun in mind, if you’re up for it,” she says. That devious grin tells me that Margot has something in mind that's probably going to make me nervous.

  She’s told me before that I need to live a little, and after the way I’ve kept myself in what she refers to as ‘cloistered as a nun’ I completely trust her to help me out of my shell. I feel guilty for doubting her earlier and I want to make it up to her. And I want to move on from being such a stick in the mud.

  “Let’s do it,” I say. I feel instantly bolstered. “What is it, exactly?”

  Margot laughs.

  “There’s more than just a spa in this casino. Tonight is amateur night in the club, and you and I are dancing,” Margot says, standing up and tugging my arm. “Let’s go hoedown and shake our asses tonight, girl.”

  Well, shit. What the hell am I letting Margot talk me into?

  Lucy

  “You want me to wear this? And do what?” I can’t believe what Margot actually thinks I'm going to do it. I wanted to be on board, I really did. But this is insanity.

  I look at a miniskirt I’m not sure will even cover my ass. The fishnets. I can’t breathe because the things she picked out for me to wear under them are even less.

  “Yeah, amateur night is a real thrill,” Margot says. “I mean we aren’t going to be this young and hot forever, so why not dance and show it off?”

  She’s serious. My eyebrows are so knit together I might go cross-eyed in a minute but Margot is being serious! She wants me to strip in Gian’s club!

  I've never done anything like this before. I never thought I could do anything like this. And I definitely didn’t think I’d ever even have sex, much less offer my virginity up on a platter to a scary rich casino owner who could break my brother’s legs. I surprised myself before.

  I kind of like the idea of surprising myself now.

  “Yeah,” I say and put my hands on my hips. “Let’s do it, Margot,” I say with a giggle and I start slipping into the clothes.

  “Good,” Margot says, laughing with me. “This is the best change to use the really dramatic makeup stuff you can’t wear otherwise. Trust me, this is as much fun as you’re going to have tonight with Mr. Sandoval out of the picture.”

  It seems strange that she still calls him that, but Gian is her boss. I mean, I'm the only one who calls him Gian anyway. I like it, that it's something only he and I share.

  Until today no one else had ever seen my body, but here I am about to dance in front of a bunch of strangers.

  “Okay, so we need to stretch, too. Like that shit is not easy to do well, but even to just have a little fun, we still wanna be pretty limber.” Margot giggles more but I’m blushing furiously.

  I’m blushing because I’m thinking about all the ways Gian likes to contort my body around when he’s fucking me and it makes me think I can probably figure out how to be limber enough for a night of dancing mostly for fun. I get the feeling that Margot can read my mind and while that’s exactly the sort of thing that makes me want to lock myself in the bathroom, it's exactly what I’m pushing back against. I’m trying to take control of my life and right now I want to do that by getting so far out of my comfort zone that I don’t recognize myself.

  When Margot is done with our makeup
and we’re dressed, well, if you can call how skimpy our clothes are dressed, I don’t recognize either of us.

  “We look hot!” Margot says.

  I have to agree, and I reach out to hold her hand and give it a squeeze. “Wow, we really do. I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I tell her. I really can’t. I keep thinking any minute I’m going to lose the ounce of resolve that I have. I squeeze Margot’s hand again and she squeezes back.

  “Lucy, if you can make Giancarlo Sandoval want to settle down again, well, you can shake your fine ass on stage for a little bit. You’ll enjoy it,” Margot says, the kindness in her eyes making me feel warm and comfortable.

  “Again?” I can’t help but ask.

  “Girl, that’s … that’s not for me to tell. But there are things you don’t know about him that he’ll have to tell you. But he’s a good man. I think you know that. When I lost my daughter last year and I didn’t know how to pick myself back up again, Mr. Sandoval took care of me when I didn’t think anyone gave a shit about me. He paid for all the funeral expenses. He got me a therapist. He let me keep my job when I couldn’t drag myself out of my bed to get to it. He let me stay here and work when I wanted to.”

  Wow. I thought Gian was a good man, and I had no idea Margot had been through so much.

  “And that’s just how he’s treated me as a boss,” Margot says quickly. “We never—“

  “Margot, I never even thought, and,” my voice catches in my throat, imagining her loss. I think about how my family is all gone now, save Tommy, and it breaks my heart. “And thank you for sharing that with me. Gian is nothing like I thought he was before I met him … and there’s still so much more I don’t know about him. And I’m so sorry for what you went through. I’m glad Gian could help you.” I am, too. I have come to really care for Margot and I’m so grateful that Gian could help her, and could make it so I had this wonderful person in my life. She’s the first friend I’ve ever had who I felt could always be my friend. And I don’t want to ruin that by pressing for her to tell me something that Gian should tell me.

  “Don’t let me bring you down, tonight. Let’s have fun tonight,” Margot says. I can hear the crack in her voice, no doubt thinking about her daughter and the ordeal of losing her. Now it seems so silly to think about doing an amateur hour at a high-class strip club, but I owe the shedding of my fear to Margot for her bravery. I’m steeling myself for doing it.

  When we get to the backstage area of the club where the other girls are going to dance, I find that I’m not as afraid as I thought I was going to be. Margot and I are laughing and enjoying a little bit of champagne, and I feel plenty loosened up enough that I’m actually looking forward to getting up on the stage.

  “Let’s do a song together,” I say to Margot. “If you want,” I say quickly, because I really don’t know what normal friends do together but I want to be able to have a good time with her and I like the idea of us both going up there together.

  “Yeah, sure thing!” Margot says, obviously delighted by the idea, and I’m so relieved.

  When the fast-paced eighties song starts up, we both turn to each other, smile, and slink out onto that stage.

  The lights are really bright at first and I can’t see anyone, and I don’t actually want to see anyone in the audience right now. I know they are there, but it isn’t about that.

  We take opposite sides of the stage and dance toward each other.

  And I’m really enjoying the rush of moving my body with a freedom I didn’t know I could. I feel light as air, and everything seems almost natural to me. I had no idea that I could move the way I am. I can see in Margot’s eyes as we dance closer together, she’s surprised too.

  When we dance across the stage to each other we both go back to back, dancing up and down in surprising synchronicity for two people making this up on the fly. “We are so doing this again!” she says where only I can hear.

  “Totally!” I agree with her. I’m on top of the world with the level of exhilaration, and we both turn back and tear off our flimsy tops.

  That’s when I get a good look at the audience, and I can’t believe how far my excitement drops.

  The instant I see Gian, my heart plummets to my stomach and I yelp a little. But I keep dancing.

  The man he’s with is dressed in leather and dark jeans. He looks strange next to Gian, who's always wearing an immaculate expensive suit. I can tell by Gian’s face that he’s not thrilled with what he’s seeing, which now that I’ve already thrown off my top, is actually quite a bit. I’m spilling out of this bra in a way that I thought I’d be nervous about. Now, the only thing making me nervous is that I’m so bare in front of so many people while Gian’s eyes are blazing with what I know is not happiness.

  The man with him smacks him against the arm but Gian looks like if he was holding a glass, it would break in his hands. When the song ends, I go backstage and I’m not surprised when Gian is back there in a few seconds.

  “What the hell are you doing? What are you wearing? Or not wearing,” he says, throwing my shirt at me.

  I felt timid and upset before, my stomach uneasy, but when he tosses the shirt, I feel something else entirely.

  “I was having a good time with a friend, wearing things that you actually bought me or had Margot buy me. I thought I was a free woman and you didn’t own me? I didn’t even leave your palace, your highness, so what’s the problem?” I'm shocked by my own words, but I mean them.

  I mean them because I realize that I felt so much better about myself to look so good and have others think I did. It's stupid, perhaps, but the whole reason I went to Margot and wanted the makeover I got was because I wanted to look hot enough to be on Gian’s arm. “I can’t believe you’re mad that I’m actually looking the part of someone that you’d sleep with. You’ve probably slept with everyone who dances here,” I say, and I know that Gian has hinted that he doesn’t actually sleep around like his reputation says, but how do I really know that? I mean, I don’t know whatever it was that Margot doesn’t want to tell me.

  “What?” Gian is stunned. I can tell he wasn’t expecting what I just said.

  “You told me yourself that I wasn’t dressed the part for seducing you. Maybe I didn’t want my looks to come down to luck anymore,” I say, looking away.

  “Come to the penthouse now, let’s not do this here,” Gian says. I’m shocked because I thought he was angry, but there’s something in his voice that seems more hurt than angry.

  Because of that, my own response is quieter than I expected. All my anger gets buried when I think Gian is hurt. I want this situation diffused. “I’ll say goodbye to Margot, then we’ll go,” I say.

  Gian nods and we walk out together. I put my shirt back on and I see the man that Gian was with is grinning wide at me when he sees me.

  “Damn good upgrade, Sandoval,” the man says.

  Gian bristles at the words and I’m suddenly so ready to be up and out of here.

  “Mr. Sandoval, we were just having fun-“ Margot says, talking so quickly.

  I don’t want Gian to be mad at her, and to his credit, he smiles and shakes his head. “No worries, Margot,” he says, but the words are dismissive. I know Gian wants to get up to the penthouse and be alone more than anything.

  I can’t say I disagree, though I’m still frustrated. I don’t want to argue more but I know that I can’t just ignore Gian’s reaction to what is honestly not that big of a deal. I just want this whole night to be over with.

  Tonight was supposed to end without him because he’d be working late … but I get the feeling he won’t be leaving the penthouse tonight after we get up there.

  Gian

  “I only did any of this,” Lucy waves her hand down her body to indicate the clothes she’s wearing, the hair, the makeup, “because you basically had Margot load up a whole new me in those bags the night after. I'm trying new things because my life is so completely different than it was all of five minutes ago. You sa
y I’m not a prisoner, so then when I try to figure out my life, you get mad at me. How am I supposed to know what to do?”

  Shit. Well I stepped in it. “Okay, so I don’t like the idea of you looking so damn hot when other people are going to see you, but I don’t want to keep you from whatever it is that you want to do, no matter what it be. And I never needed you to change. I love everything about you no matter what you’re wearing or if you’re made up, dressed down…” Fuck I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here, and I just want her to know that I’m sorry. That I’m crazy about her.

  I know that Lucy is just trying to find her footing, but I can’t pretend like her words didn’t hurt me a little. The idea that I found her somehow not attractive enough isn’t just false, but it just reflects the god-awful parts about me that she has all wrong.

  Not as if I can reach across and grab her face and tell her, hey, princess, there are plenty of bad things about me but those in particular aren’t right.

  Well, I could, but that doesn’t exactly help either of our situations.

  I know that the best thing that I can do is play the part of the consummate charmer. I have to make my every move one to make her fall deeper into my madness, to buy into the notion that she's starting to have that I might be some decent kind of man.

  Of course, I manipulate people all the time. I could manipulate women into bed, or keep them in bed, if I wanted to. This plan should not turn my stomach. It isn’t an out of line action, or me. Yet, I find myself wishing I were doing anything but lying to Lucy. I think I almost want to be the person I plan to lie about being.

  Well, that might have been an option a long time ago, but now I’m not capable of being that man anymore. I killed the good man inside me and let the monster live instead. The monster is wealthy. The monster only cares about himself.

  So if the good parts of me are dead, am I simply remembering them to manipulate Lucy, or am I haunted by the man that I thought I left in the past?