Southern Charmed Billionaire

by Frasier, Kristin

  Cause I wanna know what makes your world spin

  I wanna know what treasure lies in

  The heart

  That fell

  Across my boot

  Didn’t know what to do

  And now I need to see you more

  See you more

  The words flew out of me more smoothly than any lyrics in my life with a soulful melody that invoked wonder and that feeling of “what if” paired with nostalgia. I grabbed my guitar and quickly strummed out a few notes, feeling the jive from John Mayer’s freshman album Room for Squares, and the song “Why Georgia Why.” My head nodded to the groove; this was killer!

  “God, yes! Finally!” I called out. Writer’s block sucked, and I’d had for longer than I could remember. But music was my outlet. It let me be someone else for a while. I recorded the melody on my phone so I wouldn’t forget it before I was due on stage in five minutes for my small meager set of cover songs. Which was miracle in itself, but money does wonders, and so does a famous last name.

  After singing cover after cover, my blood boiled and yearend for inspiration like this, where I’d write about something that mattered, something interesting. Something that made you want to know more. It actually sounded coherent, and somewhat clever sounding.

  That girl, the perfect stranger. She ran into me like a freight train the other night. She was in such chaotic turmoil and obvious pain with her frantic choice words. I caused her phone to get banged up, and felt horrible about it. I wish I had had cash on me to fork over an immediate replacement.

  I thought of her dire choice of words: “now I don’t have a job!”

  Well, I knew one thing for certain. If I saw her tomorrow, she’d have herself a new job.

  The way she earnestly sought to fix things, that passion was something that shown about her like a halo.

  I hope she’d come by my office first thing in the morning.

  I needed to see her again. That was for sure.

  If she didn’t, I’d have to track her down. Kate Longhouse was her name.

  When the muse lands, you don’t let it go. You hold on tight.

  But when the muse is a sexy little curvy number, with a different air about her, well, you make plans, alright.

  I just knew today was going to be a lucky day.

  Kate

  After finally phoning Claire down from a kind stranger’s phone, I took an uber to the hospital where she was waiting in the emergency room to be seen. The $60 ride was an excess expense I desperately did not want to make, especially now since the band was falling a part.

  “I’m really sorry, Kate, but I’m not going to be able to pay you for this month.” She slid her cellphone to me, showing me dozens of e-mails of angry fans demanding their money back.

  “And I don’t have insurance. I don’t know how I’m going to pay for this visit.”

  But I knew.

  I’d pay with the money I was owed for a job I busted my ass for.

  “Well, looks like I won’t make this month’s rent then. Sorry.”

  Atticus

  Sweat poured down my back beneath my sweatshirt as I sprinted the last stretch of my run before slowing to a cool down. It was an abnormally chilly March, but the cold air was exactly what I needed.

  I inhaled the crisp morning air and felt alive and free in moments like these, with the view of the rolling mountains in the distance. Out here I was just another man in the woods. Instead of zooming traffic and horns outside my office high rise, bald eagles soared, bears roamed, deer galloped, and I was a man in his castle here. It’s where I belonged.

  My moment of peace and tranquility was soon interrupted as my cell phone buzzed. Kim. My publicist.

  It was not even 7am. This couldn’t be good.

  “Hi Kim. Bad news, is it?”

  “Well, good morning, Atticus. I have good news and bad news,” her cheerful voice cooed.

  “Let me have it.”

  “Good news is you’re on the best-dressed list again for Charleston Luxury Magazine.”

  “Yay,” I commented sarcastically.

  “Oh Atticus, it’s an honor to be voted well-dressed. The names are dropping today. The bad news is, I hate to tell you this, but there is a colorful rumor going around about you.”

  “What rumor?”

  My heart sank. Was it my music? Were people saying I sucked?

  “Well, the rumor is going around that you’re gay.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes as my running shoes hit the gravel.

  “Going around or printed around?”

  “It’s both. We have to do something to combat this rumor. Especially if you want to cultivate your brand correctly. I mean, it works for you if you really are gay. But I know that you’re not. And you’ve hired me to take care of these things for you. So, I’ve come up with a plan.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let’s have you hire an assistant to accompany you this gala season. Same girl on your arm for every picture. Then, we can spin the story that she had to go away on business. And there is your long-distance relationship. Which, honestly, Atticus, you’re so handsome. If only I were ten years younger.”

  “Kim, you look amazing. You don’t need to look ten years younger.”

  “You’re good looking, well-dressed, and sweet. Why on Earth are you still single at almost thirty?”

  It was a question I got a lot. Especially from Granddaddy and my cousins practically every week. But it’s complicated.

  And our newfound life in the public eye thanks to my narcissistic, attention-seeking twin sister Brittany only grew more complicated. She just had to do this ridiculous reality TV show a few years ago in Charleston that exploded into a cultural phenomenon.

  Before that, I could have attended events with the Branch name being admired, but now, I attended events to basically keep my sister in check. I made it known from day one that I was to not be featured and filmed. But when sister dear is making a ridiculous scene, a simple slap on the wrist via text message was not going to do the trick. I had to physically step in quite often because I was the only person in the world she would listen to. Somewhat. Besides Granddaddy, and he just looked at her with disappointment.

  But she didn’t care.

  She lived in Brittany-world.

  Thanks to her, now people not only knew me in Charleston for my family’s money, but they knew me from my sister’s show.

  Americans all over the Internet looked me up on Google as Brittany Branch’s brother. My name’s Atticus! Atticus the Third, for crying out loud.

  All this ruckus made me want even more to stay a recluse up here in Asheville, North Carolina in our country home. Just a short copter ride from the hustle and bustle of the smog found in Charleston, and I was just a regular joe. I took comfort in going into town dressed down in comfortable clothes. No one ever looked at me twice.

  Here in Charleston, people saw our money and our famous last name. They saw my loud sister, and everyone wanted a piece of our wealth or the attention my sister brought. The Socialite of the South, a nickname Brittany wore proudly, she caused more PR fires than I could handle. And as her twin brother, I was often the one who kept her in line. Living for the next party, the next event, she didn’t care much about responsibility. So for every scandal she caused in the press, I had to play the responsible brother to remedy the bad with something good. To her, charity events were just another event in which to be seen, gossiped about, and admired from afar. To me, they were important functions and ways to spend our company’s revenues appropriately. When Granddaddy retired at seventy-five a few years ago, he passed the job to me. At twenty-seven, it was a position I took seriously. With great wealth comes responsibility, especially when you’re the only male Branch heir left.

  Brittany’s made so many enemies with her catty behavior that I’m sure it bled into my own gossip camp of haters claiming I’m gay.

  The truth is, I couldn’t care less if people thought I was gay. B
ut I cared a heck of a lot about my Granddaddy, his health, and his thoughts about my life.

  Having a wealth of money certainly drew interest from girls, but all for the wrong reasons. And if my parents were still alive, they’d be able to help me sort through the fake ones.

  But they weren’t.

  And a part of me knew that they’d be extremely disappointed by Brittany’s behavior.

  To be honest, I was convinced one reason I was single was that my sister craved all of the attention. Any girl on my arm would be her immediate rival. And every girl who was ever interested in me was scared away by her actions.

  “This is my last season, I think, Kim. I’m getting tired of all of this. I don’t think this is any way to meet my future wife anymore.”

  Grandfather insisted I keep rotating in the social scene to represent him, but to also find a good match, but it just wasn’t happening. I was sure I could find a good woman in North Carolina. And if I couldn’t, I’m sure I could enlist a matchmaker. I was at my wits’ end. No more drama. No more craziness.

  “But these foundations need to see a Branch face. You know it’s important.”

  I sighed.

  “I think I’m just going to move permanently and stay here. I’m tired of covering up Brittany’s antics. It’s become a full-time job. If she wants to live life in the fast lane, I’m giving her the full green light to do so now.”

  “But what about the company? You’re so good at mingling at the events. No one knows it like you do.”

  “I can run it up here. I’m tired of fake pretention in Charleston.”

  “But your music?”

  “Well, let’s just talk about that all later.”

  “Alright, well, do you have anyone in mind to accompany you this season?”

  The girl with the green eyes I accidentally tripped last night at the venue flashed through my mind. She would be perfect. Oh yes, indeed.

  “Actually, Kim. I do.”

  “Well, fantastic. Let’s get her at the Berkeley Foundation gala tonight.”

  I moaned. I knew I was forgetting something tonight.

  “And Atticus, remember, America’s watching your every move. And that also means, your new assistant’s every move.”

  Five hours later…

  When I told her I may have a job for her, I never in a million years thought it would be what I was about to offer. I was going to give her an office position of some sort, with the secret hope that I could catch inspired glimpses of her here and there.

  But now I was about to get more glimpses of her than just the occasional stroll through the office.

  I paced back and forth wondering if she was even going to come in today. After all, I only gave her my card. I knew she needed a new phone. Surely that would be reason enough to come today?

  Feeling cornered into a stuffy place by media and PR responsibilities, I unbuttoned my suit jacket and shirt to burn off some steam with some pushups. I shut out the world as I slid my earphones in and blasted my music. It was my way to reduce stress. A healthy habit that turned my body over the years into one chiseled and nearly perfected. I wasn’t much of a dieter and chocolate cake was my weakness so I didn’t have an eight pack. But I did have a six-pack, baby!

  I don’t know what number I was on when I saw pea-green heels in the window’s reflection mixing with the ocean’s view. I threw off my earphones and walked around the cement pillar, panting.

  “Kate?”

  Chapter Three

  Kate

  The sound of a man panting stopped me in my tracks. Draped over a desk chair were a jacket and a shirt. The grunts and sighs were rhythmic and after five seconds of listening, I feared I had just stumbled upon Atticus’s “happy hour” visit with some woman bent over behind that stone pillar. Feeling completely embarrassed, my cheeks flushed with heat as I determined to turn around now and walk out the door. But the sounds immediately stopped. Oh no, I was caught.

  Walking out behind a stone pillar in the corner was the stranger I met last night, Atticus. Covered in sweat with one earphone hanging out his ear, the other dangled down his perfect chest. My jaw hung wide open at the sight of him.

  Dressed in pale, powder-blue slacks, he was shoeless and shirtless as he wiped away the sweat dripping down his face and over his athletic, chiseled muscles. Whoa. I definitely was not expecting this.

  “Fuck me.” I accidentally said out loud as he wiped the back of his neck with a nearby towel and then spritzed the most delicious smelling cologne over his body as if teasing me with the very act.

  His eyes darkened.

  “What did you just say?”

  “I…was…just…uh, taken back by this view. This incredible view of this suite. It sure is open and spacious.” Phew. I recovered. Hopefully he hadn’t realized I was staring at him with eyes of lust.

  “Ah, well, thank you. I like an open concept. One that allows me to feel like I have some space up here in the city.” His hand rested on his neck as he turned to face the glistening waters shimmering below the tower. I caught a perfect view of his flat, washboard abs, his cute butt, and then gulped, seeing a hint of white Calvin Klein boxer briefs as he gazed out at the sea, lost in some deep thought.

  I found it hard to speak with him looking like Ryan Gosling.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  He spun around and smiled at me. “Ah, where are my manners?”

  He walked toward me and held out his hand to shake my own. “Nice to see you again, Kate.” There was something about his grasp. It was firm but gentle, and I finally got a closer look at those dark eyes. They were brown, yet they were accented with specks of hazel and gold. And he still didn't have his shirt on. My eyes drifted down south to oh, naughty land, but I quickly met his gaze again. Good god, this man was ripped. I definitely was not expecting any of that. Mesmerized by his hotness, I shook myself out of my daze.

  I was blushing. I could feel the heat on my cheeks. Looking almost pleased, he lifted his hand towards me directing, me to sit down in one of the two chairs that faced his desk.

  “Please, sit. Sorry, hope you don’t mind,” he said as he began to button his shirt. His voice echoed off the walls of the high ceilings. “Sometimes I like to do pushups to clear my head. I’m not that much of a desk person. It’s never been for me.”

  “I understand that, actually.”

  “I need physical activity to keep my mind level, you know?”

  There was something incredibly sexy about this man and his exercising. I welcomed the relief of a brief second of recovery as my back faced him while I turned around to place my purse on the ground before sitting down to face him.

  I sat down in an antique French chair. It was one of three chairs in the entire top-floor apartment. The whole floor had to be at least a thousand square feet. It was a really roomy space, I thought. This would be a great place to host a party!

  He took a seat a few feet in front of me casually at the top of his desk as he slid his arms through his shirt and began to button it over his muscles.

  Oh, I wish you’d keep that off!

  My eyes diverted to his bulging package, and I swear, a light whimper of longing escaped my larynx, and I quickly cleared my throat to cover it up.

  “That was some evening last night.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah. For sure.”

  “I’m sorry about your phone.” He handed me an iPhone box.

  I stared at it a moment, caught off-guard. “You really didn't have to do that.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s my fault your phone stopped working, and I feel awfully bad about that.”

  I lifted the box to see a shiny new rose-gold iPhone. “This...this is a new model! You really didn't have to do this. My phone was like from the dinosaur age.”

  But then again, he looked like he was man with a lot of money. He shrugged his shoulders and leaned thoughtfully over his desk, studying me. Feeling uncomfortable with any long amount of silence, I quickly asked, “You
said there may be a job opening here?”

  I gulped. He clearly was like a VIP, if not the VIP of VIPs. But he looked so young for such a big position.

  “Oh, something like that.”

  “Okay.”

  “I actually have a some what unconventional job I think you will be perfect for. And judging by your tenacious willpower last night to save your cousin from that bombing, I’d say you have the guts to do the right thing when the time is needed.”

  “Oh?” I said very quickly.

  “You’re an eager one aren’t you?”

  “Eager?”

  “Eager.”

  “I’m from…well, I’m just used to a very fast pace of life.”

  “Ah, well you see, Miss Longoria, here in Charleston—in the Deep South, well, we like to take things reeeeeeeal slow sometimes. As in, molasses slow.”

  Like molasses slow everywhere? My pussy clenched thinking about the tease.

  “Fuck…” I heard myself say again.

  “What was that?”

  Shit, did I just say that out loud? Again?

  “That’s quite a word there.”

  “Sorry, I hadn’t realized I said that out loud.”

  “Too much business going on in your head? You make it a habit of using that word a lot? Because you know what it means.”

  “I know what it means.”

  The heat on my face was fiery hot and the heat down below matched the intensity. What was going on up in here?

  He cleared his throat and looked at his watch, pursing his lips together, taking a beat.

  “What type of job are they looking for?”

  “When was the last time you let someone lead a conversation for once?” He winked at me with his southern charm, and I was silly putty in that chair.

  “Never.” I smiled.

  “Excellent. Then you’ll do just fine. And…how do you handle a little cattiness among coworkers?”

  “I can be a bitch right back. I’m…I’m from…well, I can hold my own, and snide office talk doesn't rattle me at all.”

  “Excellent.”