#BABYMACHINE: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “I gotta head to school,” was my murmur. “See you later?”

  “You know it!” crowed George. “NYC baby, here’s where it’s at.”

  And with that, I took off. It was nice, looking over my shoulder to see George and Lynne drinking wine, lazing in the sun. They were good together and happy as lovebirds.

  I tried not to be jealous.

  Because who gets jealous of their dad?

  Especially an old rocker dude of fifty-five, with an old hippie wife who wears her hair in cornrows.

  But as soon as I hit campus, sadness crashed over my frame again, like a wave beating the shores.

  Snap out of it, a voice inside my head hissed. Mason isn’t moping over you. He could have contacted you, but he didn’t. So stop this now.

  And it was true, the realization bringing fresh tears to my eyes. Because after our incident at his apartment, I haven’t heard anything. No texts, no calls, no emails from the billionaire. I was as good as dead. Worse. I was alive, walking around like a zombie with leaden feet and a heavy heart. I might as well be dead.

  So I was here to speak with a school counselor again. Doctor Carrie Mableton’s been a part of my life for the past couple months now, and I hoped she’d help me get over Mason, or at least stop me from crying so much.

  But reality always intrudes.

  “That kegger last night was the shit!” came a hoot over my shoulder.

  A guy in a fraternity shirt bumped into my curvy frame and pushed past. He was yammering into a phone and didn’t notice that I’d practically been knocked off my feet.

  “Yeah, a lot of bitches came through,” he continued. “I fucked one of them last night. And then guess what? Yeah, her fugly ass friend tried to get on my dick afterwards. I had to say no, the girl was fucking disgusting, a total ho-bag.”

  The guy was walking pretty fast but I heard every vile word as it was uttered.

  But he was lost in his own world.

  “Shit no, you nasty fucker. Though maybe I should have. Next time. Yeah, I’ll get a bag ready and put it over her head, jamming that puss from the back. Hell yeah, next time.”

  The guy ran up the steps to a frat house, fist bumping another dude on the way in.

  I literally stopped in my tracks.

  God! Was that how all guys talked about girls with each other?

  So disrespectful.

  Like women were just vaginas with legs, no brains, no hearts, no nothing.

  But it seemed true. There were frat houses everywhere on this street, and they were probably all full of dudes being gross. The Gamma Phi Omega fraternity. The Alpha Kappa Kappa frat. The men’s varsity crew team. I guess guys never outgrew the need to talk smack about women. It was so disgusting, they needed sensitivity training stat.

  But realization ran over me then. No wonder Mason and his friends were so vile. They were just like this guy here, except twenty years older, lameass Peter Pans still living their charmed lives. They’d never grow up. They’d never mature and become upstanding citizens, someone you’d be proud to know.

  Ugh. The realization made me shudder, and I hurried on my way. Hopefully, these dudes would never have daughters because the girls would be screwed from the get-go, taught that they didn’t deserve to be respected and cherished.

  Almost running now, I burst into the Student Health Center, a blocky building off to the side of campus, shaded by trees with a small patch of lawn in front. The building was innocuous enough, just a nondescript rectangle in the middle of nowhere.

  But I was revealing my secrets inside.

  The crushing doubts.

  The wreck my soul had become.

  Letting myself into the cool, air-conditioned office, I signed my name onto a sheet. A quick look at my watch assured me I was right on time for our appointment. And soon enough, a middle-aged woman poked her head out.

  “Good afternoon, Beth. Come on in.”

  Dr. Mableton was a pretty woman with kind eyes behind her heavy-framed glasses. She gestured for me to sit down on the chair across the way, and I made myself comfortable, arranging pillows just so.

  Finally, I was ready.

  “You look better today,” she began warmly, notepad already in hand. “Much, much better.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled and settled into the chair again. “I just had a nice lunch with my father and his wife.”

  “Oh good!” The psychologist actually looked happy for me. “I was hoping they would show up and meet you like promised. How do you feel about it?”

  I liked that Dr. Mableton jumped right into the session instead of making a bunch of silly small talk. The professional was there to help me, not to bleed minutes from the clock. I smiled back and breathed in thoughtfully. Dr. Mableton was the best shrink I ever had. Well, she was the only one, but still.

  “It was really good, Doc. Really good. George and Lynne are going to move back to New York.”

  I bit my lip, uncertain.

  “But that’s not all.” She shot me a probing look, pen poised over a notebook. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  And as terrible as it sounds, the truth came rushing out then.

  “I was jealous,” were the blurted words, the admission hanging in the air. “I was jealous of my dad because he has someone who loves him. And I have no one.”

  Expression agonized, I stared at the fingers twisted in my lap. Did that make me a selfish jerk? Someone who couldn’t be happy for others, not even her closest kin? Did the doctor think I was totally self-centered, caring about no one but myself? But no, her job was to help, not judge. I cleared my throat and met her eyes tentatively.

  “I was jealous of the relationship they have,” came my words more slowly this time. “They looked so happy together. Totally in sync like a real couple.”

  Dr. Mableton waited for me to finish. She was good. She always knew there was more when I couldn’t say it. But her silence and patience forced me to face my own demons and fears.

  “They reminded me of what I had with Mason for a while,” came my slow words. “Witnessing them made me miss him.”

  “Ah ha.” She scribbled on her notepad then looked at me with a professional but warm expression. “If you want that, you can have it, Beth. You told me Mason said he wants you in his life.”

  I bit my lip again, uncertain. Talking about Mason always confuses me, putting me on edge while making my heart jump unsteadily.

  “But how can I be with a man who treated me so bad?”

  The doctor eyed me carefully.

  “People make mistakes all the time,” she said, resting her hands on top of crossed knees. Gentle understanding radiated from that solid form. “If you want to be with him, be with him. Follow your heart if that’s what it wants. Be smart and love yourself just as much as you love him.”

  I shook my head furiously. Was Dr. Mableton crazy? Had she forgotten what I’d said during our past sessions?

  “It’s not that easy,” were my quick words. “I told you about the book, the pictures, all his pervert friends. It was so bad, he betrayed me, and you know ….”

  The words went on and on as I re-hashed everything, words falling from my lips in painful torrents. Dr. Mableton waited patiently, listening to me rant and rave, the rush of emotion just as fresh and raw as before.

  “I know, Beth,” she said comfortingly. “I know, and we’ve been over this before. But there’s hope for the future. There’s definitely hope.”

  I stared at her.

  “How is there hope? I don’t get it. I don’t even get what we’re talking about,” were my flat words.

  “Beth, you’ve come here twice a week now for half a year. All you can talk about is Mason. And I understand what he did to you. But the man also sounded genuinely apologetic, like he’d re-do everything if he could. Have you taken that into account?”

  My hackles raised.

  “Of course I’ve taken that into account! But it doesn’t matter! He doesn’t get to hurt me li
ke that, it’s not fair. It’s not right, no woman deserves to be treated that way.”

  Dr. Mableton raised her arms, palms out to calm me down.

  “I’m not saying that what he did was right. But from a professional perspective, I want you to look into yourself. What do you want? What would make you happy?”

  The truth was, I had no idea. Be with Mason? Not be with him? Both options sounded terrible.

  “I don’t know,” came my mumbled words. “I don’t know.”

  Dr. Mableton tried again.

  “It’s okay,” she comforted. “A lot of this is the process, putting things into words and evaluating your internal responses. But let me ask you again. What do you feel you’ve gotten from our sessions so far?”

  I was puzzled.

  “I guess … I guess it’s been good to talk,” came my small words. “It’s been good to tell someone the terrible things that happened to me.”

  “To share your pain,” Dr. Mableton encouraged, nodding. “Victims often feel better if their stories are out in the open, instead of buried within. But let me ask you this. Now that it’s out in the open, do you feel better?”

  I nodded furiously.

  “Absolutely yes. But it doesn’t change what Mason’s done to me.”

  The good doctor nodded again.

  “That’s true. And it’s for you to decide whether you can make peace with it.”

  “I can’t!” was my immediate protest. “I can’t, what happened was absolutely wrong,” I said vehemently.

  The older lady was quiet for a moment.

  “What if I told you that there are victims who marry their rapists? People who get acid thrown in their faces, only to fall in love with their attacker later on? Would you think it’s crazy?”

  I could see where she was going with this.

  “I’m not that,” were my quick words. “Those women aren’t me. They’re pathetic, and I deserve better.”

  She nodded.

  “I agree. Those women aren’t you, absolutely not. But I’m just putting it out there so that you can see the expansiveness of the human spirit. I’m not saying that what happened to you was right, or okay in any way. Only you can decide that for yourself. But I’d encourage you to look beyond the boundaries of any pre-conceived notions. Are you the type of person to forgive? What if everything Mason said was true? Would you be able to forgive him then?”

  I sat back, flummoxed. Because straight off the bat, I assumed that the billionaire had lied. No one takes pictures like that only to keep them hidden. In his pocket all night? Yeah, right.

  But there was a part that didn’t make sense. Why had Jonas called me Liz the night of the attack, and not Beth? Had Mason actually tried to protect me in some way? Maybe he’d referred to me as Liz to shield my identity. And if so, maybe he’d done even more. Maybe he hadn’t shown the guys my naked pics. Maybe Jonas had figured out who I was because he’s a billionaire with endless resources, and not because Mason had outright identified me.

  I was even more mixed up than before.

  “I don’t know what to think,” I murmured, head whirling. “It’s too confusing.”

  Dr. Mableton sat back, eyes calm.

  “Take your time,” she said. “There’s no reason to rush into things. Why don’t you take some time off to reflect, and then talk to him? Even if you don’t resolve the issues, at least get some clarity as to what happened that night. There are loose threads, and answers might help you make a decision.”

  My body shuddered. Because on the one hand, I desperately wanted to see my lover again. But on the other, was I walking into a lion’s den, throwing myself into his jaws? Was I going to come out of this alive?

  My lip trembled.

  “I guess so,” came my words. “I guess I could give it a try.”

  Dr. Mableton nodded.

  “You don’t have to, Beth. Remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Nobody can force you to do anything, and after that assault, I understand your need for safety and security. But it’s a path worth considering. I’m not saying you have to march to Mason’s apartment today and demand answers. But just think about it.”

  I nodded slowly then.

  Would talking to Mr. Carlton help?

  Would seeing him again, listening to his explanation one more time, give me clarity?

  Why had Jonas called me Liz?

  And suddenly, the need was insistent. There were details that were murky, brackish and brown, obscured by mud. But I was determined to pick them out, rinse them off, and see for myself with clear eyes. The full truth might hurt, but better to rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with. And if this didn’t work, then Mason and I were done forever.

  My heart throbbed painfully for a moment.

  Forever?

  The thought made me go limp for a moment.

  I couldn’t live without the alpha male. The billionaire was a part of me. His soul permeated my being, his name flowing through my lips with every breath.

  So what was I doing?

  And like a devilish whisper, the voice came again. Forever? it asked. Are you ready for that?

  Because if I didn’t get answers this time, I would turn away, the door slamming shut. I’d leave Mason, forced to turn a new page even if it broke my heart. And squaring my shoulders, grief welled up from deep inside. Because future or no future … the moment for confrontation was now.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Mason

  A small suitcase dropped on top of my bed with a whoof. It was all packed for Costa Rica and ready to go. My passport lay next to it along with an airline ticket and a letter to Beth.

  The letter was pathetic. In it, I told her I loved her, and begged for forgiveness.

  It was long, at least five pages.

  I’d done at least six drafts.

  But I didn’t expect her to read it.

  In fact, I’d never know what happened. Because I’m leaving. After months of agony, life got to be too much. Fucking up big time isn’t my style. It’s not how I climbed to the top. The opposite in fact. I got here by doing everything right, ruthless decisions one after another.

  So yeah, life has been turned upside down, and this letter was proof. It was literally ragged and tear-stained, I’d cried writing it like a heartsick adolescent boy.

  Me, Mason Carlton, crying?

  Pouring out my heart?

  To a woman no less?

  Totally unbelievable.

  But it’s the truth. Beth had me wrecked, I was so fucked.

  But it wasn’t her fault. It was all mine. Fuck book? That was on me. Fucking Players Club? On me. Worst mistake ever, bar none.

  And she hated me now, deservedly so. The female didn’t want to see me, hadn’t so much as called or emailed in the months since our blow-up. So yeah, it’s Costa Rica for the foreseeable future. Maybe getting out of town will help clear my mind, wipe the slate clean for a little. Maybe I’ll spend the whole trip on the beach, dreaming of Beth. But that’s better than being here. This fucking apartment, with her smell everywhere. The itsy bitsy pieces of lingerie still in my drawer, reminding me of our hot play.

  I’m fucked if I stay.

  I have to go.

  And there’s no telling when I’ll be back.

  Gordon’s in charge of Carlton Corp. now. He’s the new CEO. And I couldn’t give a shit.

  Because I have nothing without her.

  Nothing without my sweet Beth, librarian extraordinaire.

  Being CEO was so stupid compared to what had slipped through my fingers. The rough waters of Costa Rica were needed to scrub my guilt and pain away. Without Beth, all the cash and influence I had didn’t mean shit. I could make a billion more dollars, but what was I gonna do with it? Buy another plane? Another apartment? More girls? All that was fucking disgusting, bile rising in my throat.

  I grabbed my wallet and checked one more time to make sure everything was set. Costa Rican currency for the taxi. My ATM card.<
br />
  It was go time.

  God damn. Because leaving was so hard.

  Beth was still in this city, somewhere.

  But she didn’t want to see me.

  Fuck my life. Resolutely, I grabbed my keys, one hand already outstretched for the door.

  But then it swung open by itself, hinges silent.

  What? What was going on? The air in the apartment changed suddenly because she was here.

  I could feel it.

  It was her.

  My beautiful woman.

  The girl who owned my soul.

  “Beth,” came my low growl, eyes devouring that sweet female form as it stepped forwards. “Beth, what are you doing?”

  She looked down, biting her lip.

  “Hi Mason,” were her soft words. “Long time no see.”

  I growled again. A long time? Fucking eons by my book, but there was no sense in behaving like a maniac.

  “Come in,” were my rough words. “Can I get you something?”

  Slowly but tentatively, she made her way to the couch, perching on the white leather seat. Oh god, no one’s ever looked this good. Her breasts were bountiful, lushly displayed in a v-neck sweater. And fuck, but that ass sank heavily into the cushion, soft and huge as always.

  “Water?” I managed in a strangled voice.

  Her eyes meeting mine were mild, giving nothing away.

  “Yes please.”

  I strode to the kitchen, banging the cupboard while retrieving a glass. Fuck fuck fuck! She was here! Fuck, I better not fuck this up.

  “So this is unexpected,” came my low growl. “What gives, sweetheart?”

  She was tentative, biting at those rosy lips.

  “Well,” she began. “I wanted to talk about that last night.”

  Oh shit, the night in the woods, when we ran through Central Park. When I rescued her from Jonas, loser extraordinaire. After that incident, I shut down his business. Yeah, we were interconnected through a couple shell companies, and I put that motherfucker into bankruptcy. That’s what you get for attacking my girl. It’s lucky he wasn’t in Rikers, serving time with a bunch of burly thugs who’d make him scream.