Billionaire's Princess: A Standalone Novel (A Royal Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (Billionaires Book 2)

by Claire Adams

  "What? You don't think I noticed?" he asked. "You don't think I asked if she wanted to get help?"

  "I think maybe this conversation really has nothing to do with me," I said. I pushed out of the kitchen corner, but Owen grabbed my arm.

  "I'm trying to tell you how much I care for you and you're walking away?" he asked.

  "You're drunk and you're hurting me. I'm leaving," I said.

  I yanked my arm free and dodged through the crowded apartment to the door. I thought the fresh air would help, but as soon as I got to the front steps and took a deep breath, I felt a sob rise up from my chest.

  Owen had not meant any of it to come out that way. He had drunk a few beers, let his guard down, and his filter was gone. I knew if I just went home, I would probably hear drunken apology messages all night. It would be best to just wait and see him tomorrow.

  I started down the sidewalk but turned around after two steps and jogged back inside Owen's apartment building. Trent was on his way up the driveway. The fact that Jasper had found out Trent's connection to Owen and myself and still invited him creeped me out. He had to be up to something. I decided I had to go back upstairs and try one more time to get Owen out of there.

  I headed up the back staircase and almost laughed out loud at myself. I was being ridiculous and tiptoeing. Maybe Owen was right and I was acting paranoid. I was debating heading home again when I came around the corner and stopped dead in my tracks.

  Jasper was standing at their downstairs neighbor's door. The old man that lived there had always been very friendly. He had lived there for eight years and was close friends with the landlord. Lately, I knew he had told Owen about his car breaking down. He was retired and on a fixed budget and had asked Owen and Jasper if they could help him shop for a cheap car online. Owen had been happy to help him out.

  Jasper and the neighbor were whispering back and forth. The neighbor had his phone out and the two checked their watches as they talked. Then Jasper handed him an envelope. The neighbor tucked his phone back in his pocket and checked the cash contents of the envelope.

  I slipped back around the corner and stood there with my heart pounding. What on earth had I just seen?

  "Hiding from me?" a voice asked.

  I stifled a scream. When I whirled around and saw it was Trent, I slapped his arm hard. "Why are you sneaking up on me? What are you doing here?"

  "Jasper invited me. Didn't he tell you we met? How's that for a coincidence? Though, I'd like to think maybe it was fate," Trent said. His normally flamboyant energy was subdued and even his smile was a lower wattage than normal.

  "Fate? What are you talking about?" My heart was still in my throat.

  "I miss you, Quinn. I know you've moved on and you don't really want to forgive me, but I have to know we can at least be friends," Trent said.

  I peeked around the corner and was relieved when Jasper was gone. The neighbor's door was shut tight. "Alright, friend, help me figure out something," I said. "Let's say I have this other friend who keeps getting his apartment searched by the cops. Then I see his roommate paying off a neighbor with an envelope of cash."

  "So, the roommate's setting up your friend," Trent said.

  "But why?"

  "You know you're sounding crazy, right?" Trent asked.

  I pushed my hair back. "Yeah, I know. How about you just tell me how you and Jasper met, instead?"

  "It was the night of that awful dinner party at your parents' house," Trent said.

  I stifled another scream, this one of frustration. "You mean the dinner party that you brought your 'boy toy' to? You are the one that made it awful."

  Trent shrugged. "Well, anyway, my 'boy toy' as you call him wanted to go out clubbing. Then it turns out he likes to get high too. Before I know it, he's off dancing with this group of locals. Turns out one of them was Jasper. I mentioned Summerlin and he talked about living here with Owen. I put the rest together. Crazy, right?"

  "Where did Nicky get the drugs?" I asked.

  "Who?"

  "Your 'boy toy,' Nicky? Where did he get the drugs?" I asked again more slowly.

  "From the locals. Good stuff too. Maybe you should try some pot, it might mellow you out. Though I have to say you are looking really good."

  "Do you think he got it from Jasper?" I asked.

  "It wouldn't surprise me." Trent smiled, catching on. "Wait, is Owen your friend and Jasper the shady roommate that's paying off the neighbor? That makes so much sense."

  "How does that make any sense?"

  "If Jasper really is a drug dealer, then he has a built-in scapegoat with your boy Owen. It’s easy for people to believe a 'professional gamer' is a pothead that probably sells to his friends. So, when Jasper starts to feel a little heat, he moves on and leaves Owen to take the blame," Trent said.

  "Oh my God, I have to find Owen," I said.

  "Right behind you," Trent said. I waved him away, but he was never one to turn down a party invitation or the possibility of a scene.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Quinn

  I tried to ditch Trent at the door to Owen's apartment, but he would not be put off. So, it was almost a relief when Jasper came over.

  "Trent, good to see you again. Isn't it crazy that we all know each other?" Jasper asked.

  I laughed. "What a coincidence. And thanks for inviting my ex-boyfriend to your party. That's not weird at all."

  Jasper held up his hands. "Whoa, I thought you were friendly. Trent said it was a mutual breakup."

  "Of course, he did." I gave Trent a look. The whole situation was a farce, but I had to go along with it. "Trent was just telling me he'd love to see some of your work. He knows a lot of students at UCLA that are thinking about starting their own businesses over the summer. Maybe he can recommend you to do the website design."

  "Oh, you're into website design? I didn't know that," Trent said.

  "I know you're starting a new job and all soon, but go ahead and show him your freelance work," I said.

  Jasper nodded, his eyes cool. "Sure, sure. But how about a drink first?"

  "Speaking of drinking, have you seen Owen?" I asked.

  "Yeah, he does seem to be getting into the party spirit," Jasper said. "I think I saw him head outside. I thought he was chasing after you. Good thing he didn't see you two walking in together."

  "Thanks," I said and turned around.

  I stopped in the stairwell and considered my choices. I could just knock on the neighbor's door and confront him with my suspicions. He might break down and admit to calling the police and trying to frame Owen for drugs.

  Or I could head back up to the party and continue asking Jasper's so-called friends how they met. He would catch on to me quickly, but that was the best way to force the strange situation to a head.

  Maybe I could even ask Anya what she knew about Jasper. If he thought she was trying to make Owen jealous, he could have tried to involve her in his set-up plan.

  I was halfway down the stairs again when I realized it did not feel right. Why did I believe anything that came out of Jasper's mouth?

  I turned around and dove back into the crowded apartment. Owen's height made him easy to spot, but I could not see him anywhere. The only other place besides the bathroom that he could be out of sight was his bedroom. I headed down the short hall. His door was ajar and I pushed it open, calling his name.

  "Owen?"

  He was stretched out on his bed with Anya draped over him. Her black hair draped over their faces, but I could see what was happening. Owen's hands roved up her body then froze as my voice registered.

  "Wait. Quinn? Quinn!" he called.

  Anya sat up and smiled. She did not move out of the way and Owen fumbled to sit up around her.

  "I thought you left," he said.

  That was the last thing I needed to hear. I should have left. I should have gone home and left this entire mess behind me. Why did I keep thinking this was a good part of my life?

  I rushed
down the short hallway and into the crush of people in the main room. In a panic, I moved to the right so Owen could not see me. A group of Jasper's strange acquaintances were chatting by the windows and I slipped behind them. Owen dodged drunkenly out of the hallway and towards the door. My only thought was to make my way around to the kitchen. If he came back in, maybe he would assume I had locked myself in the bathroom and I could slip out.

  The only wrench in my tearful plan was Trent. He met me in the living room. "Are you okay? What happened?" he asked.

  "You are the last person I want to talk to right now," I told him.

  Trent caught sight of Anya sauntering out of the bedroom. "No way. Please tell me he didn't."

  "Didn't do what?" I skirted around a few more partyers and into the crowded kitchen.

  Trent followed me and grabbed my elbow. "Tell me he did not cheat on you with that chick in the green dress."

  "He's drunk. I don't know what I saw. Maybe he went to lie down and she kissed him," I said.

  "Honey, no matter what, you know it’s not okay," Trent said.

  "This coming from you?" I asked. I pushed past more people and slipped around to the wall near the entryway. If Owen came crashing back in, I could slip out without him seeing.

  "That's why I came tonight," Trent said. "I get it. I was so full of myself that I thought I could do whatever I wanted. Then, you broke up with me and I used it as an excuse to go wild. Now it’s been long enough that it’s all worn off, like a giant hangover. I feel terrible. I want to make it up to you."

  "You understand that now is not the time, right?" I asked. I blinked back my tears hard. I stood flat against the wall as if it was the only thing holding me up. I was not strong enough to elude Owen and get away from Trent.

  "Please, honey, just let me be your friend," Trent said. He peeled my hands off the wall and kissed my knuckles. "What do you want me to do? Beat the shit out of him? Get you out of here? What?"

  "Yes, please, just get me out of here. Without him seeing."

  "Without him seeing what?" Owen asked. He had appeared in the doorway while Trent was tugging on my hands.

  My throat closed up. Owen scowled at our joined hands.

  "You didn't want me to see you with your ex-boyfriend?" he asked. His eyes were more glazed than before.

  It was more than I could take. I shoved Owen hard in the chest and marched out the apartment door. I knew both he and Trent were chasing me down the hallway, but I refused to run.

  Owen caught me at the top of the stairs. "You're with Trent?"

  "No. But I am the one that caught you kissing Anya in your bedroom or did you somehow forget about that?" I asked.

  "That wasn't what it looked like."

  "Oh, you alone on your bed kissing another girl doesn't look suspicious, but me talking to Trent in a room full of people is something to get angry about?" My voice was too loud, but I did not care.

  "Owen, are you okay?" Anya appeared in the door of his apartment.

  "You've got to be kidding me," I said. I crossed my arms and waited to see how Owen would act.

  "I'm fine, everything's fine," Owen said.

  "Yeah, sure, everything's fine," I said. "Oh, by the way, Jasper is paying one of your neighbors to rat on you to the police. He's a drug dealer and is planning to blame you so he can make a clean getaway and set up in some other town."

  "Quinn, it sounds like maybe you've had a little too much to drink," Anya said. She came down the hallway and took Owen's arm.

  I felt my heart tumble down the stairs when he did not pull away from her. "Owen, I'm serious. Let's just get out of here. Let's go to the trailhead and cool off for a while."

  "And get a DUI?" Anya asked. "Seriously, Quinn, are you looking out for him or trying to get him in more trouble?"

  "She's right," Owen said. "I drank too much and I should just stay here."

  I had nothing else to say. I tried to look in Owen's eyes, but he looked tired and drunk. Anya tugged on his arm, and he started to turn around and follow her back to his apartment. I wanted to grab him, to shake him, to make him see that I was not the one acting crazy, but I couldn't. It hurt too much.

  I was tired of chasing after everyone else's problems. When I looked around, I saw Anya pining after a man that did not really want her. Owen was being set-up by someone close to him. Trent was wanting to fix a mistake he could not take back. None of those problems were mine.

  I could just walk away.

  So I did.

  I walked across the front lawn and wondered how long ago I should have done it. My whole life I was always tied up with Sienna's problems or plans. Or I was helping my mother cope with hers. Or I was trying to please my father. Or I was loving someone I did not think would ever love me back.

  I should have just walked away.

  The thought was freeing. I felt like walking out into the desert. There, at least, the cold and desolation would make sense. Freedom was supposed to be exhilarating.

  Then I heard footsteps crashing down the sidewalk behind me and my heart started to beat again. I did not want to ignore other people's problems, I wanted to help, but first I needed someone to need me.

  "Quinn, wait, let me drive you home," Trent said. He caught up to me and gave a sad smile when he saw my face. "Yeah, I know. You wish it was him chasing you. I wished you would have chased me to Vegas that night."

  "The night you embarrassed everyone and tried to flaunt your 'boy toy' in my face?" I asked.

  "I was trying to make you jealous, I guess. It was awful. I know," he said. "If it makes you feel any better, Owen's a wreck."

  "How is that supposed to make me feel any better? Here I'm trying to help and nothing helps," I said.

  "Quinn, sweetie, it’s not up to you to save everyone," Trent said.

  Sienna flashed through my mind so sharp that I bent over as if her memory cut me. The tears started, ones that should have been shed long ago, and I could not stop. Trent helped me into his car, got in, and locked the doors.

  "What are you crying about?" he asked. "It’s about her, isn't it?"

  "She was mean," I said. "No one ever believed it, but she could be really mean. Still, I loved her. I only wanted her to be happy. I spent my entire life trying to keep her happy. Owen understands that. Maybe that's all we had. Maybe it was all wrong."

  "I don't think any of that," he waved up to the still-crowded apartment, "has anything to do with your sister. I think that is a man who has loved you for a long time and let himself get scared."

  "How would you know that?"

  "Let me see, you two got close, like really intimate close and it felt really good. Then, a bunch of his friends came around and he felt good enough to cut loose. Then, he drank too much and freaked himself out. The more he drank, the more he felt for you and the more he drank because it was a scary feeling. Then, he did something he never intended to do and it screwed everything up," Trent said.

  "Yeah, maybe. That might be right," I conceded. "It seems like something that might happen. I just wish it wouldn't keep happening to me."

  Trent kissed my cheek. "How about I make you a deal? I'll drive you home and then I'll go back to the party and nut-punch Owen if he tries to do anything stupid again."

  I laughed. "What's my end of this honorable bargain?"

  "Just let me try to be your friend?"

  "I'll try, but I might have to see it to believe it," I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Quinn

  I got home and found a note from my father. They had gone out to their favorite pasta bar for dinner. He promised to bring me home shrimp linguini – Sienna's favorite. The silly mistake broke free another sob from my chest.

  The tears blinded me as I went upstairs. I ended up in Sienna's room, in the armchair where I had sat so many times and watched her get ready. My parents had shut the door on her room when she left for college. It was a shrine just waiting in case she ever came home. My room was almost the same except
for the addition of my mother's treadmill and two old dressers she had bought with the idea of renovating them into shabby chic masterpieces.

  "I miss you," I said to her perfect room. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to ward off the last image I had of her. "I hope you know I hate you. I hate you for leaving me with this whole mess."

  I opened my eyes and focused on the photographs on her wall. Sienna dancing in our backyard, Sienna in her cheerleader uniform, Sienna and I in matching dresses for an Easter party.

  "I know, I know, it’s my mess," I said. "You were never good with messes. I can't walk away, though. You always moved forward, moved on, but I can't."

  Sienna had moved on and left me behind again. She had made a mess she did not know how to clean up and her suicide was only supposed to be a cry for help. I knew that now. She had just cut too deep and waited too long.

  Now, Owen was in a mess and refused to help himself.

  "It just hurts too much right now," I told Sienna. "I'll help him. I know you would want me to, but right now, I just wish you were here."

  I could see her standing in front of her closet, her hands on her hips. Sienna would have told me to focus on myself, make a plan. What did I want tomorrow to look like?

  At least that was becoming clearer. The more I thought about becoming an EMT, the more sense it made. I had liked nursing because I liked helping people, but the idea of walking the same white halls day in and day out made me feel trapped. It was too settled, too stationary, and I wanted to move. If I completed my training and earned my certification as an EMT, I would have more freedom.

  Sienna had been right about looking to the future. It calmed me and made me feel better. I had a plan and there was something I could do towards it. I wanted to earn the money for my training on my own. All I had to do was log on and try out more of the new Mars game. It felt good to have a clear way towards what I wanted. It was much easier than thinking about Owen.

  I headed downstairs and heard my parents in the kitchen. "Quinn? Is that you? We brought you back some food," my mother called.

  I joined them around our kitchen island. My mother was looking tired, her mouth drooping at the corners, but she forced a smile as she poured herself a glass of wine.