Girl Meets Billionaire

by Brenna Aubrey et al.

  Alexander. He calls his father Alexander?

  “You were just…” Mac stops and sighs. “Just trying to get me involved again. And it’s not worth the bullshit, you know? Why bother?”

  “Why bother?” Senior asks. “Why bother? Do you have no feelings for the twenty-five thousand people who depend on Stonewall Entertainment for a paycheck? Do you really think you can just hide from your past? You can’t, Mac. And you, Miss Hatcher,” Senior says, redirecting to me. “I knew your father as well.”

  As well as what? I feel like I’m missing half of this conversation.

  “I liked him. He was a good man. And so when you came looking for an internship I gave it you. Not because of our relationship, but because the minute you sat down with me for the interview I saw him in you. So much. And I was right. You’re one of the best employees this company has. I don’t want you to leave, but if you’ve got bigger plans I certainly understand.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I say. “I do have plans. But I do like it here as well. I don’t really want to leave. I just don’t want to miss out on an opportunity.”

  “So you have another offer? Who is it with?”

  “No, sir,” I say. “Not another offer. I wrote a book. About the celebrities I help here at Stonewall. I’ve kind of started a small life-coaching business on the side. Like… a motivational speaker. I want to do that, I think. At least give it a try, you know? Take a risk and see what happens.”

  “You wrote a book?” Senior asks.

  “I checked with legal,” Mac says. “She didn’t violate her contract.”

  “When is your book being published?” Senior asks, ignoring Mac.

  “Well, I don’t know yet. I’m still trying to find a publisher to take it. No one seems very interested in some nobody celebrity coordinator. Maybe I’ll self-publish?” I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm,” Senior says. “Well, I like risk-takers, Miss Hatcher.” He looks at Mac for this though, not me. “Life is all about managing risk. Knowing when to take it and when to back away. Some people,” he stresses the word, still looking at Mac, “have an aversion to risk. Some people,” he goes on, “lose big once and then back off. Isn’t that right, McAllister?”

  “Look,” Mac says, “we can have that conversation if you like. But not here. Not now. Not in front of Ellie.”

  “Hmmm,” Senior says again. And then he looks at me. “Miss Hatcher, your resignation is not accepted. Stay here with us. We need you. Go part time if you like. We’ll get you an assistant. Make you the president of celebrity relations. Delegate things if you need to. But stay.”

  He gets up from the desk, both Mac and I rising with him, and then comes over and extends his hand to me. “It was good talking to you again. I hope you and Mac work out whatever it is the two of you have started and I hope you stay with Stonewall.” He turns to Mac. “We’ll talk about your plans later.”

  We watch him walk out and close the door behind him.

  “Holy shit,” I say. “That just stressed me out so bad. Are you really going to leave the company, Mac?”

  “Are you?” he asks back.

  “Well, I don’t know.”

  “He made a good offer.”

  “He did,” I admit.

  “Think about it at least.”

  “I will.”

  “OK,” Mac says with a sigh. “Well, we got through that minefield. Wanna get the hell out of here?”

  “Together?”

  “Of course together,” Mac says. “He’s wrong, you know. He’s wrong about me. I’m not against risk. I risked this job for you. That’s worth something.”

  “True. And yes. I really want to get the hell out of here. Like bad.”

  “Let’s go then. It’s Friday. Let’s have a nice weekend and forget about work until next week. We have time to make decisions. Plenty of time.”

  He takes my hand and leads me out of the office. No one is really around when we come out. Maybe Senior threatened everyone when he left? But Jennifer is, because she’s been holding my phone for safekeeping since Mac texted her. We don’t stay for small talk, just tell her thanks and I make our way down to the parking lot and I get in my car to follow him over to a local restaurant for lunch.

  But I can’t help wondering about his last statement up in the office. About risk. Did he really risk his job for me? Or did he never want the job to begin with? It kind of nullifies the risk if you don’t really want one of the two things you’re taking a chance on, right?

  Who am I to question his risk? I mean, look at me and my book. I’m already hedging my bets thinking about Senior’s new offer. I’d probably get a fat raise too. I’d get everything I thought I wanted. But I don’t really want the job, do I? I want to publish this book and be a life coach. So is staying at Stonewall while I take a half-hearted shot at a new career really risk?

  I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it anymore, so I drop it and just get out when Mac is there at the restaurant opening my door.

  And after the morning I’ve had, I just have to agree with his last statement. No more thoughts about work until Monday.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ELLIE

  The restaurant is not one I’ve ever been to before. It’s past lunchtime now, so there’s only a few people still hanging around. Mac and I are seated at a large semi-circular booth in the back and it’s nice because we’re sitting next to each other.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again.

  “I know. You don’t have to keep saying that.”

  “No, I mean I’m sorry that all the plans I had for this weekend got messed up. I wanted us to have a nice time. Do things together. I was going to fly you to Aspen where my family has a house. Make it real romantic. But now…”

  “You’re having second thoughts?”

  “No,” he says. “Not that. Not about you, if that’s what you were implying. I’m having second thoughts about the weekend I planned though. I just want to know more about you and I thought we needed time away. But this trip today, that meeting, everything. The mood is just all wrong. Maybe we can just stay home?”

  “You know how I love to stay home.”

  “No, Ellie. I mean, we can stay home. Me and you. At my place. My home. Just forget about everything for a couple days, take some time to get to know each other. Make no decisions until Monday.”

  I get a thrill up my arms. “A weekend away, only not away.” Yes, I quite like the sound of that. I’d like to snoop around his stuff. Peek into his fridge. “When do we start?” I laugh.

  Mac’s blue eyes are smiling at me. They are bright and happy even though we just had the most fucked-up morning ever. “You’re incredible, you know that? Most women would’ve walked out after that whole Brutus fuckup. Most women would not have even given me a chance after I accosted them in the stairs that first day. Most women would’ve hated my guts if I embarrassed them—humiliated them, as you said—in front of all their peers. But you’re so forgiving.”

  “I just like you, Mac.” I shrug. “That’s all there is to it. When you like people you forgive their faults and look past their mistakes. It’s not as big a deal. And yeah, I was pretty pissed off at you that first day, but not nearly as pissed as I was at Brutus this morning. I don’t like him. Hating him is easy. Not forgiving him is easy. But you, well… I’m just not interested in hating you, Mac.”

  He leans into me, places both his hands on each side of my face, and gives me a kiss. It starts off small, but once I open my mouth, it’s more demanding. His fingertips slip under my hair and grab a fistful. “Thank you,” he whispers into my mouth. “For liking me.”

  He pulls back when the waiter comes and clears his throat. “What can I get for you folks?”

  Mac sighs as he bumps our foreheads together and then reluctantly pulls back and orders us wine and water.

  Once the waiter is gone, things get less tense. The anxiety of the morning fades and the excitement of spending this whole wee
kend with Mac at his house takes over. I think he feels it too. Because we spend the rest of lunch laughing and smiling.

  No one can touch us right now. Not Brutus and his stupidity. Not Ellen and her jealousy. Not Stonewall Senior and his accountability.

  This is it, I think. This might be the man I will fall in love with.

  McAllister Stonewall is a risk worth taking.

  We go home after lunch and agree to meet tonight at his place at nine.

  God, I smile so big at that thought. Date. I haven’t been on a date in so long, I’ve lost count. I take a shower because this has been one hell of a day. I don’t usually take day trips to a different state.

  After that I call Ming.

  “You bitch,” she says. “I’ve been waiting all day for this call.”

  “Sorry. But holy hell, I had the worst day ever. And even so, it might turn out… OK.”

  “Spill, chick. Like, now.”

  I start with my morning. Of course, she’s heard all about the sex Mac and I had because it was all over the office. What Mac didn’t tell me is that Ellen actually put the video up on the community TV’s.

  I want to die.

  “I heard Jennifer Sluts-around went off, Ellie. Like flipped out and yelled at every single person who stood in front a TV in the Atrium. It was only up for like two minutes, and it was only in the Atrium. So I hear. But the whole place was in an uproar. I didn’t see you leave. I had no idea you were out of town so I went over there to find you and came in on Jennifer’s epic threats. I think I love her now.”

  “Yeah, me too. But Ellen, just what the fuck? And just wait until you hear about what happened with Brutus this morning.” I spill all the details about the meeting and then slump back onto my couch with a sigh. “What a day, huh?”

  “Who cares, right? You’re out of there. If I were you I wouldn’t even bother to show up Monday. Why come half a week?”

  “Um…”

  “You’re still quitting, right? Please tell me you didn’t let Mac sweet-talk you into staying. The office sex can’t be that good.”

  “Well…”

  “Ellie!”

  “Just listen. Stonewall Senior came in to talk to Mac and me today and he told me he’d give me a fat promotion if I stayed. Let me work part time and delegate, he said. It’s kind of a sweet deal, right? And I could work on the book part time too. It’s a win-win, right?”

  “Win-win? No, it’s a trap, Ellie. I’m not saying he’s doing it on purpose, but it’s a trap. You’re never going to take the risk necessary to change your career and be successful unless you really want it. And working a part-time well-paying job doesn’t make someone hungry for change. It makes them complacent.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I’m weighing my options.”

  Ming is silent after that.

  “Don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad. I just think you’re selling yourself short. I think your book is great and you could really make a go at this. But it’s a full-time job, Ellie. You shouldn’t have time for another one. Both will suffer and since you’re getting paid to do the one for Stonewall, that’s the one you will make first priority.”

  I know she’s right but the offer was a good one. I’d be stupid not to at least consider it. “Well, I didn’t say I’d take it, Ming. I’m just giving things a second look, that’s all.”

  She sighs. “I just want what’s best for you, Ells. You know that, right?”

  “I do. But it’s not as simple as it sounds. Anyway, I’m going to go. Mac and I have a date and I’m pretty excited about it. All this stuff can wait until Monday. In fact, I’m all about living in my little delusional bubble about everything until Monday.”

  We say our goodbyes and hang up after that. I can’t help but feel the wind has been taken out of my sails. And maybe that’s not a bad thing. This was the day from hell and all I’m thinking about is seeing Mac. Aside from the lunch today, everything we’ve done so far has been during work. I’m dying to find out what he’s like in real life. Away from the job. When he’s not my boss, just my lover.

  I pack some clothes and stuff. Not work wear, for once. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s anxious to learn more about me too? We don’t know much. And what he does know is mostly from my delusional textual relationship with his brother.

  God, that’s so embarrassing.

  But it’s all real. That’s the thing. It’s the real me. Maybe the real me on steroids, but that’s me.

  And he’s still interested. I think that counts for something.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ELLIE

  I get to his building and pull up to the front doors because the parking garage has a gate and I have no key. A valet comes to my window while the doorman appears with a smile. “I’m here to see Mr. Stonewall in the penthouse,” I tell the valet.

  “Yes, Miss Hatcher,” the doorman says. “He called down and told us to expect you. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you up and let you in.”

  “Isn’t he home?” I ask, getting out and going for my bag in the backseat.

  The doorman beats me to it and says, “He stepped out a few minutes ago, Miss Hatcher. But said he’d be right back.”

  Well, that’s interesting. He trusts me in his home. Alone. Tsk. Men. I hope he is not expecting me to sit demurely and not snoop through his place. That’s probably beyond my capability. I’m consumed with curiosity about this man.

  I follow the doorman into the lobby, which is ridiculously luxurious. There’s a large modern fireplace as the center point of a sitting area that’s big enough to host a party. The furniture is modern too. All fancy lines and curves that tells me it’s probably hand-made and more expensive than anything I’ve ever owned, and my stuff is not cheap.

  There’s a piano in the corner in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, which go up at least three stories. My flat shoes click a little across dark marble floors that are shiny enough for me to see my reflection and I’m suddenly sorry I wore jeans. I knew this place was fancy. It’s a landmark here in the Tech Center. And an architectural original. But I didn’t think about doormen and valets when I put my weekend casual outfit together. At least I didn’t wear shorts.

  The elevator we take is off to the side. “Penthouse only,” the doorman says, like he’s in charge of impressing me in Mac’s absence. It makes me smile.

  “I’m Ellie,” I say, sticking out my hand.

  “George,” the doorman says. “I like Mac. He’s… unusual. Not like the rest of the people who live here.”

  “Oh, really?” I say, leaning in with interest. “What’s he like? I just met him last week.”

  “Pleasant. Generous. He’s a great tipper. Whenever he needs help, he rewards me even though it’s not expected here. And he smiles a lot. Especially when he talks about you.”

  “He talks about me?”

  George laughs as we get in the elevator and he uses a key to make the penthouse button light up and the doors close. “Yes. He’s come down in the middle of the night a few times talking about you this week.”

  “Oh, God. I hope none of it was embarrassing.”

  “Nothing too personal. But he did admit he was slightly obsessed with you, Miss Hatcher. And as a father I’d usually be concerned about a remark like that. But it came off as, you know…” He trails off.

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “Like a man who made a mistake and regrets it. Like he thinks you’re something special.”

  Well, well, well. I smile and sigh at the same time. That’s a wonderful little piece of information. I’m glad to know I wasn’t the only sleepless one this past week.

  “I’ve known Stonewall Senior forever. Worked here since the building opened. But I never knew he had two sons. Not until Mac showed up.”

  “Really?” That’s… weird. How could a doorman, the guy who should know everything about everyone, not know about Mac? It’s like he’s some kind of s
ecret. Maybe he’s the bastard child?

  I almost snicker at that. No, Mac doesn’t come off like the product of an out-of-wedlock tryst.

  When we reach the top floor George twists the key again and the doors open straight into Mac’s penthouse apartment. “Wow,” I say. The first thing I see is a view of the city. It’s dark, so the lights are just breathtaking. We are high up and I can see all the landmark buildings downtown. The windows are framed in sheer white curtains that probably cost more than my car.

  “Yes.” George nods, waving me into the massive room. “It’s really beautiful at night. Where would you like your bag, Miss Hatcher?”

  “Um…” I look around, decide I have no idea, and just point to the foyer floor. “There is fine, thank you, George.”

  “As I said, Mr. Stonewall should be here in a moment, so make yourself at home.” George steps back into the elevator and, just before the doors close, gives me a wink that looks a little conspiratorial.

  “Thank you!” I call.

  Then I turn back to Mac’s penthouse. There’s a gleaming chrome and glass staircase that leads up to a second floor and just like the Atrium over at Stonewall Entertainment, there’s a wall of water. It’s very subtle though. Just a sheet of water that falls so softly down the white tile, it sounds like a trickling brook. Very soothing. Very Zen. Very relaxing.

  I walk over to the window to take in the view but then stop short when I see a silver envelope propped up on the white marble coffee table in the sitting area. I step onto a rug that would cover every square inch of my bedroom at home, and it might in fact be made of luxurious sheepskin. My feet sink down several inches.

  I slip my shoes off as I walk over to the card. It says Miss Eloise Hatcher on the front. Engraved, like a fancy invitation one might get to a wedding. My heart thumps a few times and then I carefully pick it up and take a seat on the couch, pulling my legs up as I flip it over, open the flap, and remove the card.

  The whole thing is engraved in fancy type, just like the front of the envelope. “Wow,” I say. “What are you up to, Mac?”