The Billionaire's Alibi: The Proposition

by Maddy Raven

  You still bought drugs, he reminded himself. The drugs he had tossed into Alexa’s cart along with his other purchases. No, anything else would have been too suspicious. All he needed to do was take pictures with a few other women, his typical spread of blondes, to put the Alexa Romo news cycle to rest.

  “Turn here.” He pointed to the right. She swerved quickly, running through a yellow light and nearly hitting a group of teenagers who were trying to cross the street.

  “Is this where you want me to drop you off?” she asked.

  Will shook his head and kept his eye on the side mirror, noting that the reporters were still on their trail. “I know you have a lot to do, but I need that ride home.”

  “You knew this would happen, didn’t you? You knew they would chase us.”

  “I didn’t know for sure.”

  “I can’t. I told you, I have to pick up the kids. In fact, I’m already late. And Frannie will fire me if I don’t get this food to her chef.”

  “Okay, let’s lose the reporters, pick up the kids, drop off the food, and then you can give me a lift back to the grocery store,” he said.

  “Seriously? Frannie will kill me if I bring some random guy to her house. She’s going to think that we’re involved and I’m hanging out with my boyfriend on her clock.”

  “I’ll explain it all to her. Turn left here, and then start making rapid turns. We can lose them, I’m sure of it.”

  “I don’t have time for this!” she cried out, swerving to the left and narrowly missing oncoming traffic. “Seriously, just let me drop you off. We’re still within walking distance of the grocery store.”

  “You can’t drop me off on the corner in some scrappy neighborhood. They’ll find me in a heartbeat, and they might figure out that I paid you to take me on a car chase.” He couldn’t let the reporters know that they were getting to him—especially if it got back to Morgan.

  She swerved sharply to the right, the tires squealing in protest. “Actually, you didn't pay me for the ride. You paid me for my silence, which, by the way, I gave back to you. And part of that deal was that you would leave me alone, which you haven’t made good on. So no, I don’t feel obligated to drive you around like a mad person when I already told you I couldn’t!”

  “What do you want? Is it more money? I can pay you for your time.” He didn’t understand why she couldn’t just do what he asked. So what if she was late to pick up some bratty kids, or if the food didn’t make it back to her employer on time? He could pay for any damages, he just needed her to do this for him, now, without questions or harassment.

  “It’s not about time! I could lose my job over this!”

  “So I’ll get you a new job! It’s not like you have a great one to begin with.”

  “UGH!” she exclaimed, beating her hands against the steering wheel. She opened her mouth to say something more, but then shut it; she was seething mad, though he couldn’t figure out why. Was it such a big deal to just help him out, when he could afford to give her anything she wanted in return?

  “Turn right,” he instructed, and she glared straight ahead as she swerved around the corner.

  “You know—” She stopped mid-sentence. “You are—” she started again.

  He snickered. “Do you always get this worked up?”

  “No,” she said. “Only when a rude, conceited jerk jumps into my car with no warning while I’m working and messes up the only good thing I have going—”

  “Watch out!”

  The car in front of them stopped short at a red light. She didn’t watch.

  The crunch of metal merged with the squeal of brakes. Will flew forward, his seatbelt whipping him back against the headrest.

  “Fuck!” she screamed. She peered over the dashboard at the car that was now embedded into hers. She laid her forehead against the steering wheel, covering her face. The driver from the other car emerged, his face flushed with anger.

  “I think he wants to talk to you,” Will said.

  “Shut up.” She lifted her head and her face was blotchy and red, like she was about to cry. “Shit.” She sighed loudly, and unbuckled her seatbelt.

  He glanced in the side mirror. “At least we lost the reporters.”

  She stared straight ahead, ignoring him. “I am so screwed,” she muttered. “I’m done. Frannie is going to fire me.”

  “Add it to my bill?”

  She glared at him, jaw set and eyes narrowed.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I don’t need your money,” she growled, opening the car door. “I need you to go the fuck away, forever.”

  He huffed at her tone. “Can I at least get a ride back to my car?”

  She slammed the door on him.

  ALEXA

  WILLIAM Henry Harper. The name wedged its way deeper into Alexa’s mind as she trudged back to her rinky-dink apartment, trying to figure out how an entire day could go so wrong. After the car accident, she had sent a car service to pick up the kids, but by the time they reached the house, Frannie was already calling her.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded. “Where are you? The chef is here, but he has no food—where is the food?”

  Alexa explained the sequence of events as best she could, taking care to leave out the part of a stranger basically hijacking her car. And the part about the drugs? She wasn’t sure that would go over very well, either.

  But without those details, her version made her look completely incompetent. Frannie ordered her to call a tow service and get the car to the shop for immediate repairs. Then she informed Alexa that she would be sending her last paycheck in the mail with six weeks of severance, minus the cost of any repairs not covered by insurance, of course.

  Alexa had pleaded, knowing that, without a job, her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t be so willing to put up with her for long. But that wasn’t Frannie’s concern. One screw up too many and the job that she had so desperately clung to was over. She was officially unemployed. Again.

  She kicked at a plastic bottle cap that littered the sidewalk as she continued her trek to the apartment. How could a stranger have sent everything in her life into such a downward spiral? And just when things seemed to be turning around. Who did he think he was anyway?

  William Henry Harper. “’But my friends call me Will,’” she imitated, twisting her nose in distaste.

  Torn between her tears and fury, she had Googled William Henry Harper as soon as she was off the phone with Frannie. She didn’t find out much about him, aside from the fact that he was some sort of billionaire playboy. Not that the money was his—his father had earned it through his company, and Will was just set to inherit it. But that didn’t matter—he had the money, and according to one Morgan Cummings, he also had the women looking for a piece of the action. He clearly didn’t know about things like punctuality, or accepting a degrading job just to get by.

  Alexa had witnessed first-hand his arrogance and flippancy, and it wasn’t a surprise that he used all women the way he had used her. She couldn’t stand people who used money to solve every problem, and William Henry Harper was the poster child for that lifestyle.

  She had half a mind to call up Morgan Cummings right then and give her an exclusive on the billionaire son, but as angry as she was, it just wasn’t her style. She didn’t care much for revenge; she didn’t want to be one of those girls who needed to take down somebody that had done her wrong. Sure, she had been fired and had her last paycheck docked thanks to the spoiled groceries and car repairs, but wasn’t it her fault, too?

  After all, she could have forced Will to get out. She could’ve just parked the car and let the paparazzi surround them, letting him deal with his troubles on his own. She could’ve walked away from him at the grocery store, refusing to engage with him. Why hadn’t she?

  Because she was charmed by his good looks. That’s why she had put up with all his crap, masquerading as his friend for all those cameras. She hated to admit it, but she’d had fun in that spotlight, ev
en if it was only for five minutes of make-believe. She hated that, too; Will acted the way he did because people like her enabled him.

  Either way, there was no doubt about it: William Henry Harper was absolutely unforgettable. She wished that she could wipe him from her memory, erase the events of the last few hours, and pretend that today hadn’t been the worst day of her life.

  Alexa stopped at the No-Walk sign on the corner by her apartment, barely aware of the traffic that passed in front of her. Instead, she wondered what the real payout would be for keeping his secret, or sharing it, for that matter. It was a juicy story, there was no denying it. She wasn’t callous enough to blackmail him, nor mischievous enough to do something illegal, but she couldn’t help but fantasize about what that kind of money could do for her. It could go so far in helping her start a new life for herself—moving to a new place, figuring out what she was good at, finding the perfect job.

  No, she wasn’t going to do that. Alexa stepped off the curb and crossed the street toward her building, holding firm to her decision. No matter how enticing the fantasy was, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that she couldn’t work out her financial problems on her own. All it took was remembering that smug look on his face as he offered to pay for whatever damages she incurred to know that she wouldn’t perpetuate his misguided notion that money could solve everything.

  She knew firsthand that money solved nothing… not when it ripped families apart with secrets.

  Not when her mother was dead because of it.

  Just a few steps away from her apartment building, she unzipped her purse and pulled out her keys, so relieved to be home after everything she had been through. She wondered if her ex still had that pricey bottle of wine he was saving—she could drink an entire bottle that night, and if there was one person she was willing to take her anger out on, it was her ex. Even if that only meant drinking his wine.

  She could do this. She could get through this. All she needed was a nice, peaceful evening alone so that she could come up with a new game plan.

  She unlocked the apartment door, eager for the sweet sound of silence.

  “Oh, oh!” A high-pitched voice screamed. “Chase, baby.”

  Alexa froze.

  “You like it like that?” her ex-boyfriend grunted. “I’m going to fuck you so hard—”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Alexa stared at them, a mix of shock and disgust tangling in her raised voice.

  The girl shrieked, and Chase looked up at her like a deer in headlights. “Alexa!” He grabbed a blanket off the couch and wrapped it around his waist. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at work.”

  The girl covered her breasts, ducking around the corner and into the hallway so that she was concealed by the wall. “Is this her?” she asked Chase.

  “If by her you mean the girl that he was in love with for five years, then yes,” Alexa said, “it is me. And I’m assuming you’re the blonde that’s been fucking my ex-boyfriend.” Alexa knew she shouldn’t be angry, but she couldn’t help herself—after everything that had happened that day, this was truly the last straw.

  “Alexa, calm down.” Chase shifted his weight, the blanket exposing more than it was covering. “We broke up. You have no right to be angry about this.”

  “Are you fucking joking? This is our apartment, Chase. Our apartment. Your apartment, my apartment. You could’ve gone to her place, you could’ve waited until after I moved out, but no—you decide that you’re going to fuck her right here against the wall next to my grandma’s antique dresser.”

  Chase’s upper arm muscle twitched, like it always did when he was angry and trying to hold back. “This is not your apartment! The whole point of you living here is to help pay rent—and since you’re not doing that, you don’t actually live here! In fact, I would make you leave right now, but I know you have nowhere else to go and I’m not comfortable throwing you out on the street.”

  Alexa opened her mouth to yell back at him, but she couldn’t speak—he was completely right. She wasn’t paying rent, and he should have kicked her out months ago. She was the one who had the problem, she was one who couldn’t support herself, and she was the one who had overstayed her welcome. That was what this was—a wake-up call—and she needed to get the fuck out of that apartment ASAP.

  She stormed off into the second bedroom, which had become her room in the wake of the breakup, hiding her face so that the blonde wouldn’t see the tears that were beginning to spill onto her cheeks. She slammed the bedroom door shut and pulled her suitcase out of the closet, unzipping it furiously and throwing it onto the bed. She ripped her clothes down from their hangers and angrily tossed them into the suitcase, not even noticing the haphazard packing job until the suitcase was already overflowing.

  She paused and stared at the pile of clothes in front of her. What was she thinking? Her things weren’t going to fit into a single suitcase, and the truth was, she didn’t have the money to move her stuff even if she wanted to. Moving was expensive in and of itself, and God, she didn’t have a place to go, even if she could afford to get everything on a truck.

  She crumpled to the floor, her hand held to her mouth, trying to keep her sobbing under control. They couldn’t see her, but they could still hear her, just as she could hear them—the blonde was yelling at Chase, who was completely denying that he knew Alexa would be coming home.

  At least they weren’t having sex anymore. Because the worst thing that could’ve happened, the icing on the top of this horrible day, would have been listening to her ex-boyfriend screw his new girlfriend as a background track to her pity party cry fest.

  She steadied her breathing and tried to map out her next move. She didn’t want to hide out in this bedroom, but the two of them didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. No, this apartment was off-limits. She couldn’t stand to be there when she knew that she didn’t belong, that the roof over her head was only because her ex-boyfriend had taken pity on her even when he didn’t want her.

  She needed to get out of the apartment, but she was going to have to do it without her belongings. She would come back and get them—she knew that Chase would hold on to them for her—and either way, she didn’t have much of a choice.

  Her phone buzzed, lighting up with another text from Vivian. “Come out and have a drink! Hot guys here.”

  Alexa stared at the text, wishing that she wasn’t thinking what she was thinking, which was to get really, really drunk. And if there were hot guys there, maybe one of them would take her home, and then she wouldn’t ever have to come back to Chase’s apartment.

  She laughed out loud, realizing how out of character that would be for her. She wasn’t going to do that, but she could meet Vivian. And if she dressed nicely enough, she could probably find a guy to buy her drinks for the night, even if she had no intention of sleeping with him afterward.

  She found a towel on the floor and wiped the tears from her face, then rummaged through the pile of clothes until she found the hottest dress she owned. She quickly slipped into it. The next time she left the room, it would be for the rest of the night—and she would look as impossibly hot as she could to show Chase and his new girlfriend that she could care less about finding them screwing in her foyer, just a few weeks after the end of her five-year relationship.

  She used a compact to do her make-up, and threw on as much deodorant and perfume as she could. She sprayed some dry shampoo into her hair so it wasn’t so greasy and used some bobby pins to pull it back into a twist.

  When she finally emerged, Chase and his new girlfriend were nowhere in sight, though she could hear a movie playing from his bedroom. Alexa’s confidence wavered, and she found herself disappointed that he wouldn’t see her, though the truth was, he probably wouldn’t care even if he did. He was done with her, and she had to accept it. If he was already screwing another girl, he wasn’t going to want her back, and if she was honest with herself, she wasn’t so sure she wanted
him back, either.

  She clopped out the front door in her six-inch heels, holding onto the banister in the stairwell while taking a step at a time. Being around Frannie’s kids, she had become more accustomed to sneakers than dress shoes, and it took a few wobbly blocks before she broke down and hailed a cab. It cost her some of her few remaining dollars, but she was determined to get to the club and forget about the past twelve hours.

  Her last remaining twenty-dollar bill disappeared for the cover charge, and only when she made it inside did she realize that she had never texted Vivian back to let her know that she was meeting up after all. She whipped out her phone and quickly typed a message, pressing send. She hoped Vivian was still there, but it was Vivian—she was a party girl, and Alexa wouldn’t be surprised if her old college roommate had already moved on to another scene, another set of companions.

  But Vivian texted her back almost instantaneously; thirty seconds later, Alexa spotted her pushing her way through the gyrating crowd.

  “Hey lady!” Vivian shouted over the hypnotic beat, enveloping her in a hug. “You won’t believe who I’m here with tonight.” She grabbed Alexa’s hand and dragged her toward the bottle service entrance.

  “You found someone to pay for our drinks already?” Alexa asked, squeezing her way past the crowd.

  “We don’t roll any other way,” Vivian said, winking.

  They passed a roped-off entrance where a lone man in a suit waited at a table, cradling a glass in his hand.

  “I found her!” Vivian shouted excitedly over the music.

  The man pushed back his chair and turned as he stood, flashing a grin that Alexa would recognize anywhere.

  “Will, this is my college roommate and one of my best friends,” Vivian introduced.

  Alexa stared at him, speechless.

  To her surprise, Will held out his hand to her. “William Henry Harper,” he said, winking at her. “But my friends call me Will.”