Enchanted: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #8): A Fake Fiancée Romance

by Ainsley St Claire

  I forward this to Jim Adelson, the security guru at the company.

  To: Jim Adelson

  From: William Bettencourt

  Subject: Can you help?

  Jim,

  Can you have your experts look at this? They claim this to be my dad, but there are a few things that aren’t making any sense, and quite honestly, it doesn’t sound like him. Can you help?

  William

  It isn’t even two minutes later and my phone rings.

  “Sorry to bother you so late,” Jim says, “but I got your message and my team’s happy to work on this. First, let me tell you how sorry I am about your dad. I lost mine a few years ago, and it was really tough.”

  “Thank you. I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet.”

  “I know it’s late, but before I send this off to my audio team, I was hoping for a little bit of background.”

  “The FBI approached me while I was home in Philadelphia this week for the reading of my father’s will. They said he was participating in a Ponzi scheme. This voice mail was given to me by the company flight attendant. She was visibly upset on our flight to Philadelphia, and on the return flight she said she found this call that she had accidentally recorded.”

  “Accidentally recorded it? I don’t hear that very often.”

  “It does seem to confirm the claim about the Ponzi scheme and say that my father had an affair, but it seems a little off. Most importantly, it doesn’t sound like him. I’m hoping you and your team can dive into the recording and help me out.”

  “Do you have any voice samples of him?”

  “You can find copies on the company website and also on YouTube.”

  “We should have some answers for you in a few days.”

  We end our call, and I glance at the clock. It’s after eleven, and I need to try to get more sleep. The morning will be here quickly, and it’s back to work for us.

  Rolling over in bed, I glance at the clock. It’s just after three. My internal clock tells me it’s time to get up. I shut my eyes and think about Quinn. I love the way she smiles. Her whole face is animated. Her eyes sparkle like diamonds, and her mouth showcases her lush lips and perfect teeth. It’s infectious. Then there is her killer body. Just the thought of what she looks like underneath me makes me hard. She’s also kick-ass smart, and I love how quick she is with an important analysis, a witty retort, or just a senseless factoid.

  I can’t sleep. Thinking of her only reminds me that she isn’t with me, and I hate that. I justify that I’ve had nine hours of sleep and I’ll make it through today.

  I dress in workout clothes. It’s too early to go outside, so I head to my rowing machine today. I need a good ab workout. I start with my favorite voice mail. I just need to hear her voice. When it’s over, it reverts to my workout playlist. I’m sweating hard when I’m done. I can’t wait to see Quinn in a few short hours. I’m going to take her to lunch, and I’m going to lay out my plan for us and do whatever I can to sell her on moving in with me.

  Arriving early at work, I turn the lights on and start the coffee. I’ll probably be mainlining it by two today, but a few cups this morning would be nice. It’s relaxing being here before everyone else. It makes it easy to get a lot done. Before eight I’ve gone through all of the papers that were sitting on my desk and through my work email. I even manage to set up a few things with some of my potential investments. As the morning wears on, people begin arriving.

  Mason drags me into a meeting with the acquisitions team. We haven’t met as a group in a few weeks, and he likes to get a feel for what we’re working on. Dillon and Cameron usually join us because it affects their teams, but today it’s just Christopher, Cynthia, Mason, and me.

  “The former developers from Pineapple and Change Technology connected at the annual party we just had, and they’re looking for investment,” Mason shares.

  “That’s great. What are they proposing?” Cynthia asks.

  “It’s a finance piece,” Mason says, and everyone looks at me. That’s my area.

  I throw my hands up. “They’re your connection and a previous client. They don’t belong to me.”

  “I brought Pineapple in a few years ago with help from Dillon, and Change Technologies was just bought by one of the big five. I don’t have the bandwidth to take on a client. Would it bother any of you if I gave this over to William?”

  Christopher and Cynthia don’t even think twice, and now I have a new client. “You’ll have to go out and meet with them. This will be somewhat like what we did for Christopher’s new client company, and you’ll need to help them with their business plan. Both Tim Johnson and Dana O’Neil will each own a third, and we’ll own the final third.”

  I nod. Christopher’s new wife was part of a start-up where her original business partner brought a piece to the table that he stole. He attempted to push her out by stealing her work, but that didn’t work out. With our help, we put together the original developer of the stolen work and Christopher’s then-girlfriend and helped them build a new company. He’s been swamped getting it off the ground, but these are great deals for us. We invest in them, and they focus on what they are developing.

  Throughout the morning, I’ve looked for Quinn, but I haven’t seen her. So much for lunch. I text her.

  Me: How about dinner tonight?

  I don’t see the bubbles bouncing, so that means she hasn’t seen the message and she’ll answer me when she has time. I can’t help but be a little disappointed.

  An appointment shows up on my calendar, and I see Mason has scheduled a meeting with the new company for me tomorrow over lunch at one of the best restaurants in Palo Alto. I’m grateful for the handoff of what will be a very profitable venture for the company and me personally, but I can’t help but be disappointed that it takes time away from Quinn.

  What’s wrong with me? This is not how I am usually.

  As I slog my way through my work, the receptionist sticks her head into my office. “William, there are two guys from the FBI here for you in reception. Do you want me to tell them you’re not here?”

  I look at her and smile. “That would be great, but they won’t go away. It’s something to do with my dad. Are any of the conference rooms open?”

  “I believe the large room is open. Would that work for you?”

  “Sure.”

  She heads out, and I run over to the kitchen and grab a few sodas and head in to meet them. I’m stunned when I walk into the conference room and see it’s Agent Michael McGraw and someone I’ve never met. I notice he doesn’t introduce himself.

  “This is a surprise. What brings you to San Francisco?”

  “We still had a few other questions for you, and we wanted to talk to you a little bit further about your dad.”

  “Okay,” I say with reluctance. “I’m still not convinced this is a Ponzi’s scheme, but ask your questions.”

  “What do you know about Bettencourt Industries?”

  “It was founded by my great-grandfather as a mercantile business. In the late 1800s, he transitioned to the steel industry, which really took off for my grandfather. My father inherited the business and kept the steel part of it going, and as an amateur inventor, he started putting his inventions through the company. His biggest invention with the most commercial success was the levered trash can. While not glamorous, he invented the foot pedal and the pop top. It made the company an obscene amount of money.”

  “Do you have a seat on the board of directors?”

  “I didn’t before my father’s death, but I’ve inherited his seat. Why?”

  “When was the last time you looked at the company financials?”

  I think a minute. “I saw them last week when I was in town.”

  “And before that?” Agent McGraw insists.

  “I’m not sure. It’s been a while, but really, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a proper profit and loss statement from the company. Why?”

  “Were you given a recording of
a phone call between your father and his mistress?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Have you listened to the recording?”

  “I have. Why?”

  “What did it say?”

  “I’m not answering any other questions until you begin to answer mine.”

  “Mr. Bettencourt, we’re here to ask you questions, not the other way around.”

  I stand to leave. “Then you can direct all questions through my lawyer.”

  “Mr. Bettencourt, please take a seat. Tell us what you know about the recording.”

  I think for a minute. They’re here to throw me off balance. I know more than they do. I’m not convinced the recording is my father, but if it is, it incriminates him. “It’s supposedly a recording of my father and one of his employees. It begins with them having an intimate conversation, and then it talks about an embezzlement scam.”

  “What makes you think that it may not be your father?” the other agent asks.

  “To start with, it’s a little out of character for my dad to have somebody on the side. He was truly in love with my mother, and I know he never cheated on her.”

  “Yes, but we’re talking about today, and from what we can tell, your father and his second wife were estranged. Things can change,” Agent McGraw suggests.

  “Yes, they can, but I don’t think you understand. My father was an extreme introvert. He could probably go weeks without talking to a single person. And, not only was he an introvert, he was shy and sometimes had a hard time looking people in the eyes.”

  “He was the majority shareholder and CTO of a Fortune 1000 company. I find that hard to believe,” the other agent says.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that my dad was the quintessential nerd. He didn’t have good emotional relationships with people. He was all about his inventions and his company.”

  “But he had a suite at the Rittenhouse Hotel,” Agent McGraw insists.

  I sit back in my seat so that I answer this carefully. “Yes, but I think that was more because my father didn’t manage conflict well, and there was conflict with his second wife, Lillian.”

  “Have you heard from your father?” Agent McGraw insists.

  “No, I’m not usually accustomed to talking to dead people.”

  “Has anything odd happened?” the other agent interjects.

  “What are you trying to ask me?”

  “Will the government of Tanzania provide anything more than a certificate of your father’s death? Because to be perfectly honest, we’re beginning to wonder if it was an actual accident, or if he paid someone off with all the money he embezzled and faked his death.”

  I carefully debate my next answer. I’m sure they know all of this, but I feel like it needs to be put out there. “You do realize that my father left an estate of forty million dollars. I find it really hard to believe that if he was going to go hide in another country that he would be leaving forty million behind. Not to mention, he also never touched my trust, which he had full access to, and I’ve gone through all of the paperwork. My inheritance from my mother in cash alone is close to a billion dollars. He could’ve taken all the money, and I never would have been the wiser.”

  “I think it would have been a lot more difficult for him to get access to your trust.”

  “I truly had no idea about the money until I sat down with our estate attorney.”

  “We have an inside source that’s shared some pretty specific information, and we would like to get a copy of the recording that was sent to you.”

  “It’s on my phone.” I can make them wait and get a subpoena, but since I’ve already sent it to Jim and he’s working on it, they can have it. Jim’s lab will be much better at getting it figured out. Agent McGraw gives me his email address, and I send it over to him, and then we listen to the recording together.

  “What alarms you about the recording?”

  “It doesn’t sound exactly like my dad. For example, he pronounces our last name differently. There’s no chemistry between the employee and himself. Come on, you guys. The last time you had phone sex or had an orgasm, everyone was breathing heavily. These two seem like they’re reading a script, and they jump from phone sex to this supposed Ponzi scheme. And the amounts of money they are talking about are nothing compared to what he already had. I have my security team looking into this, and we’ll let you know what we find. I’m not convinced this person on the recording is my father.”

  “We’ll investigate. Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” I walked them to reception and wait with them for the elevator.

  The agents enter the elevator that Mason has just exited. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m not 100 percent sure.”

  “Come on back to my office and tell me what’s going on.”

  We weave our way through the office, and I can tell people are waiting to talk to Mason, and I feel silly talking to him about my personal life. There’s no room at work for personal lives.

  “Mason, it looks like there are a lot of people waiting for you. This can wait. It’s just stuff with my dad. How about drinks tonight?”

  “Hold on a second and just give me the overview.”

  I walk him through everything that’s going on, my concerns, and I share that I’ve sent the recording to Jim.

  “It sounds like the FBI isn’t sure that your dad is dead.”

  “I agree. The lawyer hired someone and got some confirmation, but my stepmother's behavior about the money is strange. It could be completely unrelated, but even her boys threatened Quinn when she tried to go out for a run.”

  Mason looks alarmed. “They threatened Quinn?”

  “They did. She shared that you two dated once, and it’s far in the past, but I’m sure you don’t want any harm done to her.”

  “No. I hear from Emerson and CeCe that I need to move her to partner.”

  “It would have my vote.”

  He sits quietly for a few moments, taking in everything I’ve shared. “Let’s call Jim and get his thoughts.” He pushes a button on his phone, and it rings one time before Jim answers.

  “What can I help you with, Mason?” Jim asks.

  “I know you’re working on William’s voice mail that he sent. We were wondering if you had anyone who could fly to Tanzania and help him out.”

  I walk Jim through the whole story. “My dad’s company hired a local investigator, and for all I know, they could’ve been paid off, but he was recommended by the lawyers. I’ll send you what I have right now.” With a few clicks on my phone, I sent him the report.

  “I got it, and I have Paul here who can head out tomorrow.”

  “I appreciate that. Something doesn’t add up, and I’m grateful for the help.”

  “I’ve got you covered. We’ll keep Gerald as your bodyguard with you until we get this figured out for you.”

  “Thank you.” We disconnect the call. Now I know that there are many people waiting for Mason’s attention. “I really appreciate your help.”

  “This is what I’m here for.”

  Chapter twenty-three

  Quinn

  I’ve been successfully avoiding William for the last three days. I know I won’t be able to do this much longer, let alone forever. He’ll eventually get upset and tell Mason about my second job. I’ve received a few text and voice mail messages from William but ignored them. I need to protect myself and my heart.

  I know he just wants to get together, have dinner, and pick up where we left off—friends who have great sex. And great sex it is. I honestly don’t think anyone has ever played me like he has. My body still hums every time I think of him. He’s probably ruined me for all men.

  I finally went through my bills last night. It’s depressing. For the first time, I’m receiving collection calls. I received eleven overdue bills while I was gone. I’m so far behind that I feel like Indiana Jones and the big boulder is ready to run me o
ver. I’m current with only one bill—my cell phone because I need it for work. I sent my last two hundred dollars to my landlord and explained I’ll have the rest soon, but I don’t get paid until Friday.

  I stand in my kitchen and look at what I have to eat. There’s nothing fresh in my fridge, and the pantry is pretty bare unless you want to eat oregano or garlic salt. For the next month, I’m left with only meals I can get at work.

  Dropping my things in my cubicle, I head to the kitchen in the office. I’m in desperate need of coffee. I’m out at home, and I was up late last night working my second job. I knew I wasn’t doing a great job when the tips were small or nonexistent, but I kept going. I make money every minute I’m on the phone.

  As I watch every drop of the extra strong Nespresso fall into my cup, my anticipation builds, as does my caffeine headache. “There you are,” William says as he saddles up to me.

  “Hi.”

  He looks and smells delicious. He’s wearing a blue, patterned shirt with the shirt sleeves rolled up and khaki pants and my favorite loafers and matching belt, and he smells like sandalwood and citrus. He’s oozing sexuality, and women literally stop and stare at him when he walks by.

  Under his breath, he asks, “Where have you been? I’ve sent you a few texts, but you haven’t responded. Can I take you to lunch today?”

  It’s tempting. “I wish I could, but I have meetings straight through today.” It isn’t exactly the truth, but it will placate him—for now.

  “Then tonight. Let’s go to dinner tonight. I’d like to update you on what’s happened, and… maybe catch up?”

  “I don’t know, William. I didn’t work my second job for over a week. My rent is late, and I desperately need to work. Maybe in a few weeks after I get caught up.”