Cruel Billionaire

by Luma Rose

  “What’s his prognosis?”

  “The doctors are optimistic. They caught it fairly early, stage two, so between radiation and chemotherapy, they seem to think they can get him into remission.”

  Her hand reaches over and covers mine. “That’s great. Your dad is a tough man. He’s got this.”

  God, I hope more than anything that she’s right.

  “I think so, too. Please don’t say anything to anyone. But to answer your question, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. Right now, I’m here as long as my dad needs me for. Once he’s better, we’ll see what life has in store for me.”

  “Well I hope you decide to stay for good. I haven’t been able to find any girlfriends who like to put Nutella on their Eggos.”

  I buckle over in laughter at the memory of the two of us sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night during our middle school sleepovers to make ourselves our special treat.

  “I haven’t had that in so long.” I close my eyes, imagining the hazelnutty-chocolatey taste of the Nutella on my tongue.

  Everly gasps in mock astonishment. “We’re going to rectify that soon.”

  I grin. “Absolutely. So, tell me all about what you’ve been up to? What are you doing with your time? Do you work? Are you married?” I glance at her left hand but don’t see any ring there.

  “Watch reality television, sort of and hell no.”

  Shaking my head at her, I say, “Let’s take those one at a time. What do you mean you sort of work?”

  She shrugs. “I work with computers. Have my own business. I do okay.”

  Before I can ask her what exactly she means by “she works with computers,” the waiter appears with our meals. They both look delicious, and the scent causes my stomach to rumble. After the waiter has set the plates down in front of us, he backs away. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

  “We’re fine for now, thank you,” Everly says, reaching for her wineglass, then turns her attention back to me after taking a sip. “As for marriage… I’ve never even come close. As far as I’m concerned, we’re still too young. There’s lots of time for that.”

  I smile like I agree with her, and in principle I do. I don’t think there’s any rush for a woman to get married, but I wouldn’t mind having someone to share my life with. I was always so busy in Washington—kept myself busy, I suppose, in an effort to push the desire away, even if I didn’t know why I always volunteered for special projects. Since I’ve been home, I’m remembering what it’s like to have people I care about in my life.

  “What about you? Anyone who sets your heart aflame?” she asks.

  An image of Garrin comes to mind, though only because he acts like he’d literally like to set me aflame every time I see him.

  “No, there’s no one. To be honest, I haven’t had a serious relationship… ever.” My face heats and I stab at my steak to avoid having to look at her.

  “Never? There’s been no one since you left here?”

  I risk a glance, and rather than judgment on her face, there’s only concern. Like I’m some injured puppy on the side of the road.

  Shaking my head, I spear a vegetable with my fork. “Turns out I can’t trust men after the tape and all. I was in therapy for years before I’d even agree to try and go out on a date with someone.”

  “Babe, I’m so sorry.”

  I shrug. “It is what it is. I’ve been on dates in the past few years, but nothing that’s developed into anything special.”

  Everly picks up her wineglass and raises it in front of me. “I say we have a toast since we’re both single. If you aren’t happy single, you won’t be happy taken. Happiness comes from within, not from men.”

  I laugh and clink my glass with hers. The laugh dies in my throat when I spot Garrin and a date being led across the restaurant by the hostess. She’s attractive if not a little young, probably early twenties, with a petite frame and lithe figure. Her strawberry-blonde hair is set in waves and accentuates the copper color of her dress. She looks like she belongs on his arm.

  Though Garrin doesn’t look particularly interested in her as he walks ahead of her. Typical arrogant asshole. Which is why jealousy shouldn’t still stab me in the chest.

  “Oh God,” I groan.

  “What’s wrong?” She whips her head around to follow my line of sight.

  “No, don’t look,” I whisper yell.

  “Garrin Stone? I thought you guys were friends in high school.”

  “Yeah so did I. But apparently our budding friendship did not translate into adulthood, because he’s been nothing but an asshole to me since I returned.” I down a healthy gulp of my wine.

  “Well, he does have a reputation for being a prick. In the Stone family, all the apple trees are bad, including their surrounding friends.”

  I chuckle. “Is that so?”

  I wonder what happened after high school. It wasn’t like he was a saint in high school—far from it—but he wasn’t the cruel and calculating man he is today. He pranked and challenged authority, but never in a malicious way that I ever saw.

  “Totally. I don’t run in the same circle as those guys anymore—by my own design, by the way—but even so I’ve heard stories about Garrin. Apparently, he’s not to be messed with.”

  Great.

  I chance a glance over Everly’s shoulder and find him seated on the other side of the restaurant, thankfully with his back to our table.

  “I’m just going to try and keep my distance as much as I can.” My libido does a slow whine at my decision.

  “Probably for the best,” she agrees.

  I cut through my steak with my knife and place a piece in my mouth, chewing as my eyes continue to stray over Everly’s shoulder.

  “I love the hair, by the way. What made you decide to go platinum blonde?” I ask once I’ve swallowed.

  A veil of sadness falls over her expression. “Truth?”

  I nod.

  “I got tired of seeing my sister staring back at me in the mirror every day. My parents did too.”

  I set my cutlery down on either side of my plate. Guilt weighs me down like a vessel filling with water. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard what happened. I wanted to reach out, but I was such a mess myself. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  Everly’s twin sister was murdered on the night of our senior prom. I had already left town by then and didn’t have it all together. I’ve felt guilty about not returning for years but could never get up the nerve to call and offer condolences. As more and more years went by, it felt like a bigger and bigger hurdle to leap over until it was insurmountable and easier to just let it be.

  “We’re just all doing our best, and you had your own stuff to deal with. I understand.” A sad smile tilts the corners of her lips down.

  “Is it something you don’t like to talk about?”

  She ponders her answer for a second before responding. “It depends who I’m talking to. Back when it first happened, there were all kinds of people who tried to befriend me just to get the inside track on the gossip. But when it’s with people who genuinely cared about her, I don’t mind.”

  “They still haven’t arrested anyone all these years later?”

  Poor Nova. I didn’t know her nearly as well as I knew Everly, mostly because she dated Garrin’s friend Lincoln and I didn’t hang in that circle ever.

  “The police never even had any suspects, according to them.” The anger in her voice says she’s not over it. Not that I blame her.

  “That’s unbelievable. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you and your parents not to have closure.” I press my lips together, not sure what else to say.

  “The not knowing is almost worse than the fact that she’s gone. Back when it first happened, I always used to wonder what her last moments were like. Was she scared? Did she cry out for help or beg for her life? Did she think of me and my parents, or was she in a panicked hysteria? I’ll never get the answers to those questi
ons. But I want the answer to the question of who killed her.” Her eyes fall to her plate and don’t come back up for a second or two.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what else to say.”

  “There’s nothing much else to say.”

  We stare at each other with fondness for a moment.

  “I’m so glad you reached out to me,” I say. “I really did miss you.”

  “Same. Let’s not lose touch again, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  We clink our wineglasses together again and laugh, drawing the attention of a few tables around us.

  Shit. I forgot for a moment that I was sharing airspace with Garrin Stone. I need to keep it down if I want to stay under his radar.

  We chitchat for a while longer while we finish eating, and when the pressure builds from the wine and water to pee, I attempt to push it off until I can’t stand it any longer. I excuse myself to use the restroom, wishing I’d declined the second and third cup of coffee this morning.

  The restrooms are directly to my right, in the opposite direction of where Garrin is seated. Thankfully I don’t have to pass by Garrin’s table in order to reach the ladies’ room. I head down the hall and enter the ladies’ room and do my business. As I wash my hands afterward, I study myself in the mirror for a second and then head out of the restroom, only for my feet to halt.

  Garrin stands in the hallway. His hands in his pockets, his back against the wall with his ankles crossed.

  My hand flies to my chest. “Oh, shit. You scared me.”

  I wait for some eviscerating comment to leave his lips, but an egotistical smirk lands on his face. “I was hoping we could talk. Maybe I could swing by your parents’ place tomorrow morning?”

  My mouth hangs open. It’s not like he declared his undying love for me or anything, but he was almost… cordial.

  “Um…” I glance around the hallway. For what I’m not sure but having his undivided attention on me is unsettling.

  Is this a trick or something?

  “What’s this about?” I ask.

  “I’d really rather discuss it tomorrow if that’s okay with you.”

  Now he’s deferring to me to make a decision? Something is definitely going on.

  “Okay, sure. I’ll be there. Should I put on my bulletproof vest?” I cock an eyebrow.

  He shifts his weight and chuckles. “I suppose I deserve that.”

  “Just a little.” I don’t inflect any lightness into my voice. I might deflect with humor, but I’m not the gum on the bottom of his shoe like he’s been treating me.

  “Right. Well, I’d better get back to my date.”

  I swallow down the cringe I desperately want to give back.

  “Sure, yeah. I need to get back to Everly anyway.”

  “I thought that was Everly Brookes you were with. I didn’t realize you two were still close.”

  “We just reconnected since I’ve been back.”

  He nods, but it almost feels as if he’s feeling out whether he believes me or not.

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to your date. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a quick nod myself, I dart out of the hallway and back to my table.

  “Did you see Garrin in there?” Everly asks with wide eyes after I seat myself. “I saw him go in there a minute or so after you.”

  I arrange the napkin back in place on my lap. “I did, and the weirdest thing happened.”

  She leans in toward the table. “What?”

  “He wasn’t an asshole, and he asked if he could come by my parents’ house tomorrow to talk to me.”

  “What does he want to talk to you about?” The way her eyes light up, she’s thinking it’s much more than just a smoothie recipe.

  “I have no idea.”

  I glance over at Garrin’s table. He’s pulling back his date’s chair and helping her up. That was quick. Are things too hot at the table to get through a meal?

  As soon as the thought enters my brain, I inwardly cringe.

  I need to get a handle on my conflicting feelings over Garrin Stone and decide whether I want to kill him or sleep with him.

  10

  Chapter Ten

  Garrin

  I squeeze the steering wheel of my Lamborghini Urus one more time, staring up at the Flores home. I need to get my ass out of this car. The guard at the entry to the community would never have let me pass into the neighborhood without alerting the Flores family of my arrival.

  I undo my seat belt and push open the door.

  Fuck my father and his demands. I hate being beholden to that man.

  And the fact that I have to do this with Isla of all people is an extra dash of salt in the wound. Why her? I’ve spent plenty of time around women I don’t like—last night, for example. My date was a means to an end. Something to get my mind off this bullshit with my dad and Isla. And when I pay for their time, they can be whatever I want them to be. Hence why I chose a lithe, fair blonde rather than an olive-skinned beauty with dark eyes and curves. That didn’t work out too well for me either, though.

  I walk to the front entryway, trying to push back the resentment toward Isla that has grown twofold over the years. For a decade, I’ve told myself that I wouldn’t have done what I did if she hadn’t slept with Asher. That what happened on prom night, wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been hating myself for what I’d done. That it was her who set in motion a series of events that changed all of our lives.

  I swallow down the hatred, which tastes like a toxic ball of tar in my throat and ring the front bell.

  A stout woman in her fifties wearing a gray-and-white maid’s uniform answers the door. “Garrin Stone, I presume?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m here to see Isla. She’s expecting me.” I put on my most charming smile.

  “Come on in. I’ll get her.” I step into what would be referred to as a modest home compared to the Mastersons’ mansion next door. Although Isla was never seen as the poor girl by any means, her family was new money in this city. Her father came from nothing and made a great life for himself and his family. Most would find that admirable, but Cherry Creek sees it as lucky.

  I’ve never been in the Flores house before, though I’ve seen it from the outside. Where my family home is austere and lifeless, this house is the opposite. Rich woods and colorful art fill the sitting rooms on either side of me, and photographs of the Flores family cover the tops of the furniture. The floor is stone, but the gathering areas are all adorned with expensive area rugs that make the space feel comfortable and welcoming. Just another sign that they’re new money. They don’t want people to be intimidated when they step into their mansion.

  “Why don’t you wait in the library and I’ll send her down to you?” the housekeeper says. She leads me through the large foyer with oversized dark iron wall sconces into a room further back in the house on the left.

  Huge ornate double doors sit open, and inside is a two-story library filled with books and a rolling ladder on each side. I step inside and soak in the space, envisioning a teenage Isla doing her homework in here. She had great grades. One of the reasons I forced Devon Pierce to be lab partners with Neha Patel was so I could slide in as Isla’s lab partner senior year. I needed the grade that I knew Isla could get me, and she succeeded. If only she hadn’t been so damn irresistible with her innocent naïve ways when I flirted with her. Then maybe I wouldn’t have spent the last decade hating myself.

  “She’ll be along shortly,” the woman says before turning to leave.

  I nod and walk to the other side of the room to check out the shelves. I’m not a big reader myself, unless you count drilling reports and summaries for the board.

  There are an array of classics and rather than being pristine like they’re new, they’re weathered and worn like they’ve been read a dozen or more times. I run my finger along the spine of Gone With The Wind, plucking it out from among the others, vaguely remembering her rambling on about it senior year.

  “T
hat’s one of my favorites.”

  I spin at the sound of her voice, and the book drops at my feet. She’s dressed casually today, in a pair of fitted dark jeans and a cream sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a few dark tendrils hanging loose. It’s a contrast to the business attire she’s wearing every other time I’ve seen her since her return. The woman in front of me reminds me a lot of the girl I knew back in high school and I can feel myself soften toward her—and that won’t work for me if I want to continue to vilify her in my head. And I need to do that. If she’s not the villain, then that means I am.

  “No politics on the agenda for today?” I gesture to what she’s wearing.

  “We were supposed to be at a charity luncheon later, but something came up with Ford’s mom, so he had to cancel last minute. Do you know if she’s ill?”

  I keep a straight face, purposely keeping my expression blank so that she won’t wonder if there’s something more to Ford’s sudden cancellation.

  “I remember you talking about it,” I say, bending down to pick up the book and change the course of conversation.

  She chuckles. “I had a mild obsession for Rhett Butler for a while. The will-they-or-won’t-they seemed romantic as a teenager.”

  “Are you still a romantic?” I ask, finding myself eager for her answer. Is it something I ruined for her?

  She shrugs. “It’s nice to think that you’re meant to be with someone and that maybe you’ll get more than one shot to get it right. But as an adult, I think Rhett and Scarlett probably just weren’t right for one another.”

  She steps further into the room and sits down on a deep green leather couch. I join her, leaving enough room between us in an effort not to intimidate her.

  “So why are you here?” she asks.

  Her bluntness surprises me, but I can’t blame her given the one-eighty I’ve done with my attitude toward her.

  “I’m here to apologize for the way I’ve treated you since you returned.”

  Her jaw slackens and her cocoa eyes grow wide. “Wow.”