Billionaire's Amnesia: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #9)

by Claire Adams

  I headed across the street and around the block to a great little pizza joint that I didn't go to often enough. Mainly because pizza was definitely a cheat food and not technically allowed in my strict diet and exercise regimen. Still, after three days of intense physical labor, I figured I could get away with a cheat meal—or three.

  Just as I stepped into the pizza joint, I saw Lilah there, by herself, sitting at a table and eating a slice of pizza. She looked up at me and a strange look flashed across her face. She smiled, though, and the look was quickly gone. Still, something in her smile seemed kind of off.

  I sat down across from her.

  “Hey,” I said with a wink. “Fancy running into you here.”

  “Yeah. Just thought I'd try somewhere different,” she said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin.

  She wasn't making eye contact for more than a split second. That gut feeling was jabbing at my stomach. I didn't like where this was going.

  “So, you were in Costa Rica the past few days?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Things got a little crazy down there. It was pretty tough work. I've got a wildlife sanctuary slash ecotourism place down there, and—”

  “I heard all about it around the office,” she interrupted.

  “Oh. There was no cell reception or internet down there, just satellite phones for communication. I did try to call, but—”

  “Yeah, I know,” she cut me off again. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but there was something lurking beneath it that had me on high alert.

  She looked up at me and looked intently into my eyes. When she began to speak her voice was soft, bordering on sad.

  “Look, Asher, I know you want to talk about what happened on Friday night. But please, just give me a chance to say what I need to say and respect my wishes on this,” her eyes pleaded with me as she paused. I nodded and let her continue.

  “What happened Friday night happened because we were drunk, because we were tired and not ourselves after a week of extremely hard work. It was just a way to release all the tension and stress that had been building up. I'm not going to lie and say that it wasn’t incredible because it was. But that said, I have to tell you that . . . Well, I think it was a mistake. A mistake that we probably shouldn't repeat.

  “The thing is, you're already at the top, Asher. But please try to put yourself in my shoes. I'm not at the top and I want to be there, but I have a long way to go. I want to get there entirely on my own merit. It’s something I need to achieve solely because of my own talent, not because I'm sleeping with someone who can pull strings and get me there,” she paused and looked at me with pleading in her eyes. “Please tell me you understand.”

  “I understand,” I said slowly, though I was still trying to process everything she had just told me.

  “Are you sure? Because the look on your face tells me even you’re not so sure that you do.”

  She stood abruptly, not waiting for my reply. “I'm done with lunch,” she half-whispered. “See you back at the office.”

  And with that, she hurried out of the restaurant and was gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lilah

  It felt like all of my nerve-endings were on fire as I rushed out of the pizzeria. Flushes of heat trickled across my skin, and all I wanted to do was to sprint away from there was fast as I could.

  But I didn't.

  I maintained my composure, keeping up my facade cool, calm, and collected. I strode purposefully down the street as if I was a woman in complete control, instead of the emotional wreck who was only barely clinging to the thinnest vestiges of sanity.

  All right maybe barely clinging to sanity was pushing it a bit but, it wasn't that far off the mark. I was feeling rather emotionally drained after everything that had happened. And, seeing Asher for the first time since what had happened between us on Friday night, after he hadn't called the whole weekend, had left me feeling like a bit of a wreck by the time Monday morning, and had rolled around.

  I'd felt as if he'd achieved his goal—that he'd conquered his prize and everything that had seemed so real between us had actually been a lie. It was bad enough I’d thought it was a mistake, but to think I was just being played was an entirely different thing.

  Needless to say, I'd been in quite the mood on Monday morning and had almost been ready to hand in my notice and walk out of there and never see him again. But then, I'd found out about the Costa Rican situation and that he'd had to rush there on short notice to save the wildlife sanctuary. His personal assistant had said there'd been no way for him to have gotten hold of anyone in the States.

  Except that he had.

  He’d called me. Those strange, foreign numbers that had been calling my phone all weekend had been him and I'd simply thought that they were scammers or wrong numbers.

  That led to all sorts of new, twisted feelings of confusion. Everything I'd assumed over the weekend about him and his motivations had been false—and that left me feeling like a fool. He had actually tried to get ahold of me, many times. And I'd been the jerk refusing to pick up the phone.

  Still, there was the whole career aspect to consider, and my career remained my priority. It wasn't as if anything I'd just said to him in the pizza parlor wasn’t the truth. I did want to get to the top on my own. I did want to forge a successful career entirely on my own merit. I wasn't sure if I would be able to achieve that if he and I became romantically involved.

  But looking into his eyes—just that brief connection—had crumbled so much of my resolve and brought all of those intense feelings I’d experienced on Friday night right back into the forefront. That made this whole situation even more difficult to deal with.

  Still, I'd made my choice, as tough as it had been to make— and I fully intended to stick with it. I would do my best to keep a respectful distance from him, and I'd decided that there was no way we could spend any more time together outside of work hours. I wasn't about to put myself—or him—in the path of temptation ever again. I would keep things cool and professional at work, as well. It was the only way I would be able to regain the crystal-clear focus I’d once had on my work. It was the only way to haul myself out of this emotional entanglement.

  My mind was made up—despite the emotions, the connection, or the doubts—and that was that.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Asher

  I sat at the table alone, reeling from the shock of what Lilah had just said to me. All this time I'd had her on my mind and, after opening up to her about my family secrets and after Friday night together, was hoping . . .

  But hoping for what? Hell, I didn’t even know what I’d been hoping for. A relationship? Was I even capable of that? I'd never been able to commit before. The world had always been my oyster, and I'd never had a problem with picking—or picking up—women before. It seemed to come with the territory when you're a masculine, attractive man who also happens to be a billionaire and a prodigy in the field of business, well, you can't help attracting women. I don't state that to boast or anything. I'm merely stating a fact. Even if I weren’t attractive, the money would be.

  But the fact is that when you're spoiled for choice or an object of fantasy and desire, your perception of things can get warped and twisted. I'd dated my fair share of physically beautiful women—models, dancers, pop divas, actresses. It hadn't taken much effort on my part because they'd always wanted me. That, in a way, is possibly what bored me of them pretty quickly. I'd never found a woman who challenged me. Who didn't go after me from the moment she knew I had even the slightest interest in her. Who treated me like just any other guy, rather than a billionaire.

  Well . . . not until now. Not until Lilah.

  So what the hell was going on here? Why was one woman causing me all this confusion and, as much as I hate to say it, heartache? Was it simply the fact that she was making herself out to be unattainable, and that I simply didn't believe there was anything in this world that I couldn't have?

  Or was there somet
hing more? I’d considered that for the last four days, I had no idea she was going to tell me it was a mistake and walk away. And for those four days, she was all I could think about, even in the midst of saving a wildlife refuge.

  So, what did that mean? It meant that my feelings for Lilah weren’t based solely on her being a challenge. It meant this was unfamiliar territory for me. It meant more. One word kept sneaking back into my head—a word I didn’t want to consider: love.

  The word scared me because I couldn't say for sure if I even believed in it. I'd had many things growing up, many things that other kids only dreamed of. I'd been a billionaire by the age of 20, but I'd never had love. I'd only had flings, affairs, and casual encounters—things that money, power, and prestige could buy.

  I couldn't buy love though, that had turned out to be true.

  So there I was, sitting in a pizza parlor with a slice of pizza dangling from my hand that I hadn’t even taken a bite of. I could have been sitting there for ten seconds or maybe ten minutes. Time seemed to have ceased its march leaving me spinning in the strange, surreal moment.

  I put the pizza down on my plate and called a waiter over.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said to the teenager, “do you think I could get this wrapped up, to go? I'm not really in the mood for it right now.”

  “Uh, sure,” he said as he took the plate away.

  He came back a few minutes later with the pizza slice packed neatly into a box. I smiled, left him a big tip, and then walked back to the office, wondering if I was in a trance. I paused as I got to the Sinclair Building and looked up at it, rising majestically up into the sky.

  “I own this,” I said to myself. “I own this building and most everything in it. It's got my name on it. Yet . . .” I trailed off and shook my head.

  This was a first. I'd had moments where I'd felt like I was losing my edge, losing my focus, but never like this. In fact, I'd always prided myself in how utterly focused, and often ruthless and calculating, I could be. I had always remained razor sharp like the Japanese katana that Colonel Tanaka had given me.

  Yet, at the moment, I felt blunted and dulled. I couldn’t go on like this—something had to give.

  I strode into the building—my building—with purpose. When the elevator reached my floor, I went straight to my office and told my PA to hold any incoming calls for the afternoon. I had a plan to regain my edge and that began with shifting into overdrive and powering through everything I needed to get done. In fact, I was going to stay here late—until midnight if needed—and then do it again tomorrow. I was going to need to take Friday and the following Monday off to make it a four-day weekend, so I needed to get everything done by the end of Thursday. It would be hard but, for a workaholic like me, it was doable.

  Before I jumped in, I needed to make a call—just to make sure what I was planning was actually possible.

  I took out my phone and dialed a number. It took a while to connect, but eventually I heard the sound of the other party's phone ringing. After a while, a familiar voice answered: an old, hoarse voice. The voice of a man who was now nearly 90 years old. I spoke in Japanese to communicate with him.

  “Colonel Tanaka, my most revered teacher. It is I, Asher Sinclair.”

  “Sinclair-san! It is wonderful to hear your voice again.”

  “I need your help, Colonel.”

  “You are like a son to me, Sinclair-san. I will do anything in my power to assist you in this matter that is troubling you.”

  “May I come to see you and stay at your estate?”

  “You are always welcome here, Sinclair-san. When do you propose to come?”

  “Soon. Friday, if that's possible.”

  “I will have my servants prepare a room for you.”

  “Excellent. I'll drive straight there as soon as my jet touches down.”

  “I look forward to seeing you, Sinclair-san.”

  “And I you, Colonel.”

  Without further ado I put my phone away and started on my work. There was a lot to get through by Thursday evening, and I needed my mind to be clear by the time my plane touched down in Japan on Friday morning. I needed it crystal-clear.

  ***

  I howled with pain and dropped my practice sword as the old master cut through my defenses and struck me a savage blow on my forearm. He was 89 years old, but age hadn't put much of a damper on his focus as a swordsman. Of course, he tired far quicker than a younger man did, and wasn't nearly as agile any more. But he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

  “Pick it up,” he said, pointing at the sword. “We are not finished yet.”

  “Yes, master,” I said, groaning with pain as I picked up the sword and prepared to fight.

  “Something is unbalancing you. This is why an old man such as myself is able to defeat you, who are but my grandson's age. You must clear your mind of whatever is plaguing it if you are to defeat me.”

  I breathed in deeply and slowly, doing my best to maintain a sense of clarity and focus.

  Still, try as I might, I could not get thoughts of Lilah out of my head. I hadn't seen her since Wednesday at the pizza parlor. She'd evidently been going out of her way to avoid me. Perhaps that had been a good thing. I wasn't sure what I'd say to her, anyway.

  I launched into a vicious attack, hoping that my superior strength and speed would be enough for me to overcome the dated man in front of me. I was wrong.

  He deflected my powerful, but inaccurate attack with ease and flipped the sword out of my hand. Then he tripped me up so that I fell forward onto one knee.

  I looked up, embarrassed, as I felt his wooden practice sword pressing firmly into the back of my neck.

  “If this were a real katana, your head would be rolling at my feet right now, Sinclair-san.”

  “If we were using real katanas, master, you would have beheaded me an hour ago,” I commented glumly. “And from then on, you would have kept beheading me over and over again.”

  The old man raised his sword from my neck, took off his mask, and smiled sympathetically.

  “Stand up, Sinclair-san,” he said. “I can see that something has caused you to lose your focus. We must speak of this. This is why you came here, is it not?”

  I nodded.

  “It is, master.”

  “Come, then. We will visit the hot springs, and there you will tell me of whatever it is that is attacking you from within.”

  A while later, we were soaking in the warm waters of the natural hot spring pools in the forest near Colonel Tanaka's estate and sipping on sake as we talked beneath the cool, starry sky above.

  “It is a matter of the heart that troubles you so, is it not?” asked the old man.

  “It is, Colonel, it is.”

  He nodded.

  “I gathered as much. Few things can alter one’s focus like the heart. Such things can weigh heavily on the spirit of the young—and the old.”

  “And, this one has been weighing heavily on my heart for some time.”

  “Tell me, Sinclair-san, in America, you are a powerful man. A man of prestige, respect, and immense wealth and standing, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  “And, you carry your grandfather's legacy of honor, do you not?”

  “I do. I whisper a prayer for him every day, as you taught me to.”

  “Good. One must honor one's ancestors. One way of honoring them is by behaving in an honorable manner yourself at all times. Have you conducted yourself in such a manner?”

  “Always, I try to. Although many times, I fail.”

  “You are young, and cannot expect to be infallible. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart, women, or love.”

  “Yes, and in this area, I fear that I have acted somewhat . . . dishonorably in the past. I have treated women poorly, used them only for their bodies and their beauty.”

  “Such is the way of powerful men, and it always has been, Sinclair-san. But there lies a true test of one's character.”


  “I understand that now.”

  “So, you have met a woman who is not like these others you have been with?”

  “She is nothing like them at all.”

  “And this is what has captivated your attention so fiercely, has it not?”

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  He nodded.

  “And unlike the women you pursued before, she does not seem to care about your wealth, power, and prestige. Is this correct?”

  “That's right.”

  “You are not able to control her. She is like a female samurai, is she not?”

  “There were female samurai?”

  “Oh, yes. They were fierce warriors, as skilled and courageous as any male samurai. They were rare, yes, but they existed. Their names live on in legend. This woman who has captivated you, I suspect that she is like the female samurai of old. Fierce, independent, strong-willed, intelligent. Yes?”

  I nodded. “She is all of those things.”

  “This is what frustrates you. With every woman that has come before her, you were able to win her without effort—your money, social standing, or power did that for you. But these things, they are not you. The female samurai knows this. She has these things herself or, at least, she is working toward them herself. So, she does not want them from you. She wants to earn them and take pride in her own achievements. In fact, those very things that have always worked for you in terms of winning over beautiful women are now working against you.”

  “That is almost exactly what she told me. So, what can I do, Colonel?”

  “There is only one thing you can do, and that is what every man who comes against a female samurai must do, whether he is a beggar or an emperor.”

  “And, what is that?”

  “Show her your heart and nothing else. Then it is up to her to decide if she wants it or not. You, I'm afraid, have little say in the matter.”

  I slumped my shoulders and sighed. “I'm not used to this, Colonel. I'm not used to this at all.”

  He chuckled and smiled sympathetically at me. “No man, even the fiercest warrior, is ever ready for the attack love wages on the heart. All you can do is embrace the experience and accept the outcome, whether it is in your favor or not.