Cruel Billionaire

by Luma Rose

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here, Harper. Do you want a drink?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No, I’m good for now. Ford invited me.” She gestures to the stage just as raucous applause breaks out.

  I’m assuming Ford just officially announced his candidacy. The four of us join in, clapping.

  “I can’t believe he’s going to run for mayor,” she says, looking back from the stage to us again.

  Ford takes a few pictures with his parents and then they exit the stage, Isla and the other man following them.

  “He was practically born to do it,” Ryker says.

  “Yeah, but I never really thought he was happy being Colorado’s political prince,” Harper says.

  I shrug. “He’s made his peace with his place in this world. Just like the rest of us.”

  No one contradicts me. Instead, the four of us down the drinks in our hands and watch as Ford takes one for the team.

  4

  Chapter Four

  Isla

  So far so good.

  A few people have looked at me with more than veiled interest as Ford’s press secretary for the campaign, but no one has outright brought up why I left town so abruptly.

  The only person who was outwardly aggressive with me was Garrin, which took me by surprise. I didn’t expect a hug and tears of joy at my return, but we’d been lab partners our senior year, and I had naively thought we’d formed a friendship. At one point, I’d foolishly thought he was flirting with me and I’d developed feelings for him. Until my dream cloud had popped, sending me plummeting back down to reality when he asked Tara Westover to prom.

  So, I can’t imagine what his problem with me returning to town is. Then again, he wasn’t called cruel for no reason. Maybe I was just lucky not to be on the receiving end of his hostility in high school.

  “Care to dance?”

  I whip around at the sound of the deep voice behind me. Garrin is the only one there. His stone face and dark eyes devoid of emotion don’t immediately give away that he’s the one requesting to dance with me.

  Taking a hesitant glance at the dance floor, I look back at him just to double-check he’s the one asking me to dance. Maybe he’s decided he should apologize. So I smile and say, “Sure.”

  His hand slides into mine, and I swear his thumb runs along the inside of my wrist right before he leads me out to the dance floor. The heat from his hand runs up my arm until it coalesces as a warm feeling in my chest. The last word I’d use to describe the adult version of Garrin is warm. More like cold and unfeeling.

  He walks me to the other side of the dance floor but not too close to the edge. Gripping one hand in his, placing his other low on my back, he pulls my body closer to him. The inches between us make me wonder how his body would feel flush to mine.

  He leads me expertly across the dance floor, a result of his good breeding. He’s probably known how to dance like this since he was old enough to walk. His masterfulness on the dance floor loosens me up, and I relax in his arms. The scent of his expensive cologne acts like a pheromone and desires I’d long thought were dormant come alive.

  “Why are you back here?” I tense under his rough tone. So much for the apology I’d thought might be coming.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” I glance around to make sure no one is paying us any attention. Every time we get within five feet of a couple, Garrin whirls us around in the other direction. He seems hell-bent on keeping us separated from everyone else.

  “Everything that happens in this city is my fucking business. Now tell me why you’re here.”

  Even if my father didn’t want to keep his illness private, I wouldn’t pour my heart out to this cold version of Garrin. He’s nothing like the sweet boy who had to run out of the classroom on dissection day in high school.

  “I thought Ford made it clear to you that I’m his press secretary for the campaign.” He twirls me around until we’re on the edge of the dance floor, isolated in our own little corner.

  “Maybe, but I’d bet my bank account that’s not the real reason you’re back.” He pulls his head back a couple inches and spears me with a caustic look.

  “Why I am or am not here isn’t your concern.” His hand twitches on my back.

  “It is if it’s going to affect my friend’s chances of winning.”

  “Your friend hired me. He obviously believes I’m talented enough.”

  “The only reason you’re on his arm is because he’s paying me back for fucking his date.”

  His sentence shouldn’t feel like five buckets of ice-cold water to my face, but it does. The image of him and some socialite going at it accosts my brain. Both heat and fury swirl around inside, a toxic combination that not only makes no sense but that I don’t have any right to feel.

  I stop dancing and stare up into his flat and indifferent eyes. “Why would enlisting me to help him be payback at you?”

  He stares down at me with barely contained fury on his face. Eventually he moves us around the dance floor again.

  “You’re not exactly the ideal person to work on this campaign. Or did you forget the reason you left here so quickly a decade ago?”

  My nose tickles and tears brim in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Part of being here is to confront my past and not let it rule my every action and emotion anymore.

  “I’m well aware of why I left, and I certainly don’t need you to remind me. It’s something I’ve had to confront, even if only on the inside, every day since then. But I am not my past, nor am I whatever some arrogant, rich asshole thinks I am.” I stop dancing and step out of his hold. “Now if you’ll excuse me, as lovely as this reunion has been, it’s over.”

  I spin on my heel and walk away with a relaxed stride, my head held high, my back straight as if he didn’t just cut me open and spill my insides out all over the dance floor.

  What the hell happened to him since high school?

  One thing is for sure, I’ll be keeping my distance from Garrin Stone while I’m here.

  5

  Chapter Five

  Isla

  I knock softly on the large wooden door and fall back down on my heels. I don’t want to wake my dad if he’s resting. After a few seconds, my dad’s scratchy voice says to come in, and I push open the door with equal parts hesitation and eagerness.

  I want to see my father—it’s the reason I came back—but I don’t like what I see when I go into the room. He’s sitting up in bed, the large TV on the other side of the room tuned to the business channel with the volume turned down low. The scene at first glance seems normal. But upon closer investigation, I can see the sallow color to his normally olive skin, the way his brown eyes that match my own appear duller, and the sagging skin on his face and arms from all the weight he’s lost.

  “Hola, Papi.” I smile and walk across the silk Isfahan rug at his side of the bed. I saw my mother earlier in the dining room when breakfast was served and know that she’s off to a charity event this morning, so I want to keep him company until her return. Ford said it would be okay if I met him and the rest of the team at the office around lunch.

  “Princesa, come in.” He smiles up at me and I’m thankful that despite all that he’s going through and the damage the treatments are doing to his body, his smile has remained intact.

  When I reach his bedside, I lean in and kiss his cheek. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Never better.” He pats the spot next to him on the bed.

  I raise a brow and give him a look that lets him know I don’t believe a thing he says. Then I crawl up beside him and lean against the headboard.

  “How was the party last night?”

  My thoughts instantly go to Garrin and I inwardly curse.

  I hadn’t had some romantic notion of seeing him again. I thought it would be nice to catch up with one of the only people who seemed to understand me in high school. The guy who filled my stomach with butterflies right
before fourth-period science class. He’s not the Classhole I thought would make me regret my coming back. Asher was the one I’d figured would make some crude comment. Apparently, I don’t know either of them well.

  “Ford seems to have a lot of support behind him, and we were able to secure a few large donors for the campaign. Not that he needs the money, but you know how it is around here. Money talks, and when people hand it over, it says something about their confidence in you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s true, princesa.” When he moves his hand over to pat my knee, the tendons on his hand push up from under his skin and his knuckles appear swollen, as if arthritis has them in their grip. The skin itself is marked with age spots, the normally olive skin darker in some places than others.

  I blink a couple of times before I look away.

  “How are you really doing, Papi?” I force the tears to stay put when I cover his hand on my knee with my own and look over at him.

  “You worry too much.”

  “You’re sick. Of course, I worry.”

  “I should be the one to worry. Your mother tells me that you still haven’t found a nice man to share your life with.”

  I barely suppress the urge to roll my eyes. My parents were lucky to have found each other when they were freshmen in high school and can’t fathom that a twenty-seven-year-old like myself isn’t making it her life’s mission to settle down.

  “I’ve been kind of busy with law school.”

  My dad guffaws. “An excuse.”

  “Not an excuse.”

  “I haven’t even heard one peep about you seeing anyone the entire time you’ve been gone.”

  He’s not wrong. Ever since the sex tape incident I’ve had a hard time trusting men. Sure, I’ve gone out on dates over the years, but the men I’ve allowed myself to go to bed with have been virtually nonexistent.

  Let’s just say that men aren’t big fans of women who don’t make them feel like a hero in the sack. Things always eventually broke down not long after.

  I squeeze my dad’s hand lightly. “I haven’t met the right person yet, that’s all.”

  He flips his hand over underneath mine and links our fingers together. “You deserve the best. Don’t settle like your mother did.”

  I laugh and lean into him, letting my cheek rest against his shoulder.

  “So, what’s going on in the stock market today?” I ask, changing the subject to one where we can pretend it’s just another day and he isn’t lying frail in his bed.

  My dad launches into his analysis of what looks promising and what people should be dumping from their portfolios while I listen and feign interest. The stock market, though it has made my family very wealthy, has always been like a member of the family. Usually it’s either on or discussed at dinner every night. It’s not my thing, but I’m happy to listen if it makes my dad feel like this is any other day in his life.

  I’m so angry at myself for missing these moments because I was too scared to confront my past. My dad has always been the most important man in my life. He wasn’t like my friends’ fathers growing up. Their dads were always off traveling for business or had their staff do most of the child rearing. But my dad was always engaged with me as a child, and I always knew he had my back. When I was small, he was the one who used to read me a bedtime story. I’ve always been aware of how lucky I was to have him as a father.

  And now there’s the possibility that I could lose him. I vow never to let my own issues keep me away from him again.

  6

  Chapter Six

  Garrin

  I read through the latest acquisition contract that Legal sent me, but the words grow fuzzy in front of my eyes, just like the first five times I tried to read through it. There has to be something wrong with my vision because I refuse to admit it’s about Isla.

  She’s been stuck in my head since I saw her last week. It’s been five days and I swear her scent is still wrapped around me. I can still feel the way her small hand fit perfectly into my own when we danced. I can still see the flash of pain in her eyes when I said that shit to her.

  I toss the contract down onto my desk in frustration, then press the button on the phone to connect me to my assistant’s desk.

  “Yes, Mr. Stone?”

  “I want to see those numbers for the new drill sites we’re testing before the end of the day.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Stone,” Roslin says. “I’ll track them down for you.”

  She disconnects the call, knowing I prefer action and efficiency over meaningless words.

  I push up out of my chair and step over to the minibar in my office, pouring myself a scotch. Unbidden, the look on Isla’s face flashes through my mind again as I swallow past the burn of the drink.

  It’s her own fault. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I was just looking out for my friend. Having someone with a reputation like Isla’s working on his campaign can’t bode well for him, and there’s nothing I can do about that—it’s just a fact. The worst of all is its true. There are no mixed messages in that tape should someone more talented than Lincoln dig it up.

  I shouldn’t give one shit about why she’s back here, but that’s what is haunting me every night. I get Ford wanting to hire her for payback, but is his plan to really keep her on staff? That’s taking our little bets and games too far.

  I haven’t seen him since the party last Thursday, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of tracking him down to ask. I assume he’s been spending every waking moment at his campaign office, getting his run for mayor off the ground.

  I white-knuckle the glass in my hand and walk over to the window that separates me from the forty-story drop down to the street below. Patches of snow still dot the top of buildings below, but it’s clear that spring will be ushered in soon.

  Will she still be here come summer? How long is she planning to stick around? Surely not forever.

  I think of the first moment I saw her walk in wearing that blue dress. The blow felt like someone had shot a cannon at me. The bigger blow had been the look on her face when she first saw me. Those few seconds before I laid into her, she appeared almost… excited to see me. Her smile was instant and welcoming as if she had been hoping she’d run into me.

  But why would she? She didn’t care in high school, so why would she now?

  Then again, she always was a good liar. Maybe she’s perfected her craft by now.

  “Mr. Stone?” Roslin’s voice sounds through my speaker.

  “What?” I bark out, my mood souring further with more thoughts of Isla kidnapping my brain function every damn minute.

  “I should have those reports you requested in about an hour.”

  “Bring them to me as soon as you have them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I turn and walk back over to my desk, determined to get some work done. I will not give Isla an ounce of power over me. I’m as controlled and disciplined as they come, and I will not allow her to change that.

  “Also, sir, your father’s assistant just called and he’s on his way down to see you.”

  I grip the glass and place it down before it shatters. “Fine.”

  She disconnects the line, no doubt having picked up on my true feelings for my father since she started working for me.

  So, the old man is coming down from his perch in his ivory tower, is he? Must be important. Rarely does he make an effort to come see me, instead preferring to summon me to the top floor of the building to visit him. He’s like a lion, welcoming people to his den.

  I only cooperate about half the time. I’d never cooperate if he didn’t have something to hold over my head. Clearly, he’s not willing to take the chance that I’ll ignore his request today.

  Taking a seat behind my desk, I’ve just hit refresh on my email when he slithers in like the snake he is, shutting the door behind him.

  “To what do I owe this great honor?” I push my chair away from my desk, propping my ankle up on my knee. />
  His shrewd gaze tracks the half-drunk glass of scotch on the corner of my desk. “Drinking before noon. How vice presidential of you.”

  I ignore his shot and narrow my eyes. “What do you want?”

  “Can’t a father just come to visit his son?” He steps up to the opposite edge of my desk but doesn’t take a seat. No, that would put us as equals, and there’s nothing my father likes to remind me of more than the fact that he’s my superior.

  I lean back into my seat as if unaffected, placing my elbows on the armrests and lacing my hands together in a casual pose. I perfected my don’t-give-a-shit attitude from a young age when it comes to my father.

  “Want to go catch a ball game or play catch out in the parking lot?” I ask.

  His face sours.

  “Don’t act like our relationship isn’t what it is. You want something. Now tell me what it is so I can get on with my day.”

  He chuckles like he enjoys my humor, and I clench my jaw.

  “How right you are.” He knocks his knuckles on top of my desk. “I’ve been thinking over Isla Flores’s reappearance since last week.”

  Isla? The one game changer, so I try not to show the surprise on my face, but I doubt I’m successful.

  “What’s your relationship like with her?” he asks.

  “I don’t have a relationship with her. She’s been gone for the past decade after she got caught fucking Asher on video. You heard about it, so I imagine everyone else in this town did too.”

  Nothing much happens in high society that those in the upper echelons of power aren’t aware of. Much to my own detriment.

  “I don’t care about any of that. What I asked was what your relationship was like with her. She was your classmate at Forest View Academy, correct?”

  “She was.” I try to leave the bitterness out of my voice. I have no idea what my father is up to, but I won’t willingly give him any kind of advantage over me. And if he knew of my distaste for Isla and the reasons why, he’d only get pleasure out of it. Something that I’m determined to keep from him. I want him to be as miserable as he made me after my mom died when I was nine.