Taken By The Billionaire

by Renee White

  “A small one,” I replied, and then spent an hour alone with my father.

  It seemed like we were back on track. My father revealed he liked Damien but added, “I have reservations, Kylie. He could turn out to be a great guy, just right for you, but you look after yourself.”

  “I will, dad,” I nodded. I yawned. “I think I’ll go and take a shower before I go to bed. I’ve got work tomorrow so I don’t want to stay up too late.”

  The following day in Damien’s office Alexandra brought in the coffee and newspapers as usual.

  Tucked away inside the folds of the LA Times was a trashy tabloid with the screaming headline: KYLIE CLARK HITS THE CLUBS WITH HOLLYWOODS HOTTEST.

  Damien picked up the rag between two fingers, disgust curling his upper lip while all I could do was boggle at the outrageous lie.

  “What is this>” Damien spluttered, obviously outraged. “You wanted to stay with your dad last night. That’s what you said.” His icy tone was reflected in the cold glint of steel in Damien’s eyes. “And I fell for it. After everything you said to me you go and pull a stunt like this.”

  “Oh my God,” I heard Alexandra gasp when she picked up the newspaper and saw the picture accompanying the banner headline.

  “I can’t fucking believe this,” Damien blurted.

  Before I could react, before I could even make sense of what had occurred in the last twenty seconds, Damien had stormed out in a fury.

  I sat there, too shocked to move.

  6

  Numbed by shock I sat in Damien’s office, literally so surprised at the lies in that rag of a newspaper that I couldn’t move. I could hardly even breathe. It was just so staggeringly untrue. And then there was Damien’s reaction. Had he really looked at me that way and just stormed out?

  Eventually, hands and legs shaking, I got up and took one of the containers of coffee that Alexandra had brought in with her when she’d dropped the newspapers on Damien’s desk. I felt sick as I sipped at the coffee, the cup wobbling in my shaking hand.

  The tabloid was there, its headline still screaming it’s totally untrue message: KYLIE CLARK HITS THE CLUBS WITH HOLLYWOODS HOTTEST. Hot anger suddenly dispelled the greasy feeling in my stomach. It was an outrageous slur, I’d never been near the club – How could I when I’d been at home with my dad all last night?

  Desperate for clues I picked up the newspaper and, with a shudder of distaste, looked for the writer’s by-line. Maybe if I got in touch with whoever had written this piece of libelous crap I’d be able to track the source. When I saw the photograph that alleged to be me I saw it didn’t even show the woman’s face, it was just a photo of a woman from behind. Then, as I studied the detail I noticed, in the background, that some of the people that were gathered around looked familiar. Did Jenny…

  Of course, I should have guessed sooner. Who else could have been behind a stunt like this? Who else would have a motive? I studied the picture intently – OK, the girl in the photo, although none of the images showed her face, could have been me from behind. But so could a thousand other girl’s in LA.

  I picked up my cellphone and called up a name in the address book. The call rang out, eventually going to voicemail. Frustrated, I spat a swear word and tried another number. Again I got the same response. I reasoned, through cold anger, that Jenny’s friends would either be sleeping at this time of day or they saw my name on the screen and decided to blow me off.

  There was one name, though, someone who Jenny thought was one of her toadying sycophants but who had once told me she only hung around on the periphery of that group as a friend of a friend and that she really thought Jenny was a whore.

  “Hi, Melissa?” I asked when, to my relief, the call was picked up.

  “Hi, Kylie,” Melissa said. “What’s up? Congrats on the movie. I’m so jealous!”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “It’s really exciting and I’m so thrilled to have the chance, but I was calling about something else and I wondered if you could help me. Have you seen the stuff in the papers about me today?”

  Melissa said she hadn’t, and when I explained the circumstances behind my call she went quiet.

  “I was there last night,” she said eventually. “I wasn’t partying like the rest of them because I’ve got a photo-shoot today. It seemed weird at the time,” she added, “but I wasn’t really paying much attention. There was the usual asshole paparazzi hanging around outside the club, but inside there was one guy with a small camera who was taking photos. None of the security bothered him either, which is why I noticed. Then I saw he was with that girl who works for Damien Taylor, you know, your director guy.” She went off at a tangent at the mention of Damien’s name. “Now he’s sexy,” Melissa purred. “OK, he’s older, but so hawt! You should make a move on him, Kylie.”

  “I know what you mean,” I replied, steering Melissa back onto the reason for my call. “But you say this guy was taking pictures of Alexandra Eagleton? Damien’s assistant, is that right?”

  “That’s her,” Melissa confirmed. If the papers say it’s you, they’ve got the wrong lady ‘cause he was taking photos of her, Alexandra what’s-her-name.”

  I chatted to Melissa for a minute, not wanting to be rude to her but inside my head I was screaming.

  Oh my God! It was Alexandra in those photos!

  But why? Why would Alexandra be involved with one of Jenny’s plots?

  The spider incident came rushing back. Alexandra had suggested the scene in the first place. But how could she possibly know about my phobia? Of course, the answer to that was also obvious. Jenny knew about my fear of spiders.

  Then I recalled the oddly pleased look on Alexandra’s face when I’d turned to look at her as Damien gently led me off the spider set.

  Jenny had told Alexandra who had then engineered the whole debacle.

  Jenny I could understand, she’d want to ruin it all for me out of spiteful jealousy, but what was Alexandra’s angle? Was Alexandra trying to get Damien for herself?

  Then panic set in when I realized that she’d followed Damien out of the office. She’d deliberately planted the tabloid so Damien would see it, and then, when he’d stormed out – which she could have bet a year’s salary would be his reaction – she followed after him. This could be her chance. She could be on hand to offer comfort, and I could imagine what kind of comforting that would involve.

  I needed to get the hell out of the office and find Damien before Alexandra could tell him any more lies.

  He didn’t pick up my calls, and when I try for the twentieth time the call went straight to voicemail.

  “Shit,” I spat as I burst onto the street outside the studio.

  My legs felt weak as I tried in vain to hail a cab. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, swelling in my throat and making it hard to breathe.

  “Please, God,” I whimpered. “Not again. Don’t do this to me again. It isn’t him, it’s Alexandra and Jenny. Punish those two. Please.”

  Finally I managed to get a taxi to pick me up. I gave the driver Damien’s address. “If you break a few laws I’ll pay you double,” I said shakily as the tears threatened.

  We set off with a squeal of tires and the smell of burning rubber.

  When we arrived at Damien’s house the gates were closed. I paid the cabbie his well-earned fare and walked up to the intimidating gates. After pressing the code into the keypad the gates swung open and I rushed past their silent, gliding bulk.

  Alexandra’s car was parked on the driveway in front of the house and I wondered what that devious bitch had said to Damien – What lies had she told him?

  The door was locked and when I rummaged desperately through my purse I couldn’t find the key Damien had given me. Maybe it was there, hiding away in a secret fold in the bottom of my purse, as much a part of the conspiracy that seemed to have formed between my sister and Alexandra. Too frustrated and angry and desperate to search for the key, which could be in another bag after all, I pounded o
n the front door with the side of my fist.

  “Damien!” I yelled at the top of my voice. “Open the door. Don’t listen to anything she’s got to say. Please, Damien, open the door. Talk to me. It’s Kylie. I love you. It isn’t me in those photos!”

  I knocked and slapped that damned door until my hands were numb. I could hardly talk for having yelled so much.

  Finally, just when I’d decided to find a decent-sized rock and hurl it at one of the windows to get his attention, the door opened.

  Oh my God, he was a mess, obviously worse for wear on booze.

  “What do you want?” Damien spat. His eyes blazed and I could smell the whisky coming off him. How much had he drunk to be so affected so quickly?

  Then I noticed he was in his underwear!

  “Damien, please,” I croaked, my voice hoarse. “You’ve got to listen, baby. It’s all bullshit.”

  But he didn’t want to know. Wherever he was in that booze-soaked place inside his head nothing I said penetrated.

  I saw a movement inside the house, and when I looked over Damien’s shoulder I saw her standing there, smirking at me.

  “Go away, Kylie,” Alexandra sneered.

  I gasped because she was just about naked herself. Alexandra’s blouse gaped opened, unbuttoned all the way down. I could see she’d taken off her skirt and was down standing there in her panties.

  “Damien,” I groaned. “No, don’t do this. Don’t fall for it. Please, Damien.”

  Damien peered at me through bleary eyes. I saw a hint of the real man glint there for a second, just a flash of the man I loved. And then his eyes glazed over and he told me to leave.

  “I’m done,” he mumbled. “I’ve had it with double-dealing women. Go find someone else to get back at Jenny with. Our contract is off. Just like that time with your fucked-up in the head sister.” The door slammed shut.

  Just before Damien closed the door on me, on us and our life together, I saw Alexandra’s smug face, the victory shining in her eyes.

  So she’d wanted Damien all along.

  And now she had him.

  I don’t recall much of what happened next, I’d lost the energy to fight and wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and lie down for about twenty years. I must have walked to the gates and into the hateful world beyond. What was the point in bothering anymore? Damien wouldn’t listen, not with the cocktail of whisky in his veins and poison dripped into his ear by Alexandra. It would be better to let it go, to simply give up. How many more times would I have to prove myself to Damien?

  Fuck it, let Jenny win. Who cares?

  I found myself in yet another taxi, only this time I was outside Rafe’s apartment block.

  If anyone had told me that’s where I’d head for I’d have laughed in their face. What possessed me to think I’d find any solution to my problems at Rafe’s place? It must have been some kind of yearning for a time before all this started. Before Rafe and Jenny had done the dirty behind my back I suppose I’d been happy enough. It might be a little like that film with Keanu Reeves – The Matrix – I’d been plugged into the machine, not knowing what the world of hot, impulsive, risky sex with an exciting man could be like, and who knows, maybe if I’d married Rafe I’d never have known, would never have needed to now. Who’s to say I wouldn’t have been happy even? Perhaps that’s why I ended up in Rafe’s apartment with what seemed to be a glass the size of a fishbowl full of wine in my hand – I just wanted to turn back the clock to a time before heartbreak and the topsy-turvy world of Damien Taylor’s emotions.

  “Hey, Kylie,” Rafe said in a soothing voice. “It’s OK. You just take your time; take as long as you want. Cry your tears and then tell me all about it.”

  So I sobbed and sipped the wine, a Chardonnay I think, not that passionate blood red stuff that Damien turned me on to. I told Rafe everything, blurting it all on a cascade of tears. It all came out: my hopes as an actress, my feelings of helplessness over Damien, how I despised my sister.

  I realized then that I’d probably blown my chance at being a bigger star than Jenny. The film would be busted out. They’d have to cast again and rework the whole thing. How much would that cost? Would Damien even bother?

  “Shit, Rafe,” I said, spitting the words of bitter disappointment and a hefty dose of self-pity. “How did I end up in such a mess?” I eyed my wine glass stupidly as I wondered where all that wine had gone after I’d tried to take another sip and found the glass empty.

  “I’ll get you another,” Rafe said, smooth as ever. He smiled down at me, his eyes soft and tender. “It’s great to have you here, Kylie,” he added before, with a long lingering look he left the room.

  I lay across Rafe’s huge sofa and closed my eyes. The wine was working its magic and I felt the cotton-wool fuzz replace the harsh edges of real-life. I’d just drifted into a languid half-dream where I was a big star, the movie had broken records and my world was a lovely place filled with flowers and kittens and Damien Taylor loved me.

  I felt Rafe’s presence, sensed him from behind closed eyelids, but was in such a wonderful place that I didn’t want to come back to reality just then. Instead I lay there, limp and compliant as Rafe slid onto the sofa and laid my head on his lap. Then I drifted away again as he stroked my hair.

  I started up out of my dream to find someone kissing me. When I opened my eyes I realized that I was sitting up on Rafe’s sofa and, to my horror, found that I was returning his kisses eagerly. With Rafe’s tongue in my mouth, and as his hands began to move over me, his touch familiar regardless of the weeks since he’d touched me, my body responded in the way it had been trained to by Damien.

  My nipples stiffened and I felt the pulse between my legs quicken from a low, dull throb to a rhythmic beat. Heat flooded my core and I felt myself moistening. I groaned and slid my tongue into Rafe’s mouth to taste the Chardonnay on his tongue.

  “Oh God,” I gasped.

  “Kylie,” Rafe sighed, his hand on my breast over my bra. How the hell had my blouse come unbuttoned? “I missed you,” he moaned, his hand sliding down over the rack of my ribs to my stomach. “I’ve missed you and wanted you back so bad,” he added as his hand scooted under the hem of my skirt, which had ridden up high on my thighs. He touched my underwear and his fingers were right on the money. Rafe rubbed at me, creasing my underwear into my cleft as I began to squirm and pant.

  “Rafe, oh, Rafe,” I sighed, lifting my ass from the sofa so I could press myself against his insistent fingers.

  “I’m sorry about everything,” Rafe murmured, his lips at the hollow in my neck. “I should never have done it. What an idiot I was,” he continued before he spoke the bitch’s name.

  That killed it stone dead. It hit me like a train – What the hell was I doing?

  “I never should have listened to Jenny,” Rafe said.

  And then I was up off the sofa spitting mad.

  I was so angry at Rafe for making a move at such a vulnerable time for me. But mostly I was mad at myself. To run to Rafe, the cause of all the shit in my life, had to be one of the dumbest things on my list of dumb things I’ve ever done, so far.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” I hissed as I fumbled with the buttons on my blouse. “What was I thinking?” I wriggled my hips to get the hem of my skirt to a modest level, my underwear was wedged into my cleft, but there was no way I was going to dig around between my legs with Rafe sitting there.

  “Hey!” Rafe cried, all indignant. “Where are you going? I thought we—”

  I cut him off with a snort. “No way, Rafe,” I snarled, my finger jabbing the air as I pointed at him. “I’m sorry I came over here. It was stupid and a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me. There’s no fucking way I’d come back to you. Not after what you did to me with … with her.”

  Rafe came up shouting and waving his arms. “I said I was sorry,” he yelled. “I was an idiot. I fell for it. I didn’t know just how much of a fucked-up bitch she is. She’s totally
messed up in the head, Kylie,” Rafe ranted on, screwing the tip of a forefinger against his temple. “Don’t you get it? She’s jealous of you. She has to be the winner every time. She told me one time when she was off her face on booze that you got all of your father’s attention. She was the oldest and when Baby Kylie came along all of a sudden your dad had no time for her. She says her own dad dumped her. That’s why she’s like she is. She does the bad shit to get your dad’s attention away from you!”

  For a few seconds I just stood there gaping like a goldfish out of water. It sounded incredible, but made sense at the same time.

  I stared at Rafe as he stood in front of me. The poor guy was breathless and close to tears. “I’m sorry, Rafe,” I murmured, resisting the impulse to comfort him. He looked so forlorn, and I knew that he’d been hurt by Jenny as well. We were both victims of hers, and whether or not she had some deep-seated resentment for me, Rafe didn’t deserve to be a pawn in her game. “I’m so sorry but I can’t be with you after that. It wasn’t your fault, I see that now. But you were weak, Rafe. You should have loved me more.”