The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4 (5 page)

And Greer was going to give this child the best, happiest life she possibly could, she thought fiercely. No nannies and tutors. No squirreling her child away to the back of the house because it was inconvenient. Greer’s baby would be loved and know it was loved at all times, even if it didn’t have a father in the picture.

But it would be a change. A big,
big
change. Holy crap. She got a little faint just thinking about it.

She went to her room in a daze and took another nap. When she woke up, she was mentally refreshed, and convinced that the tests were right. Of course she was pregnant. Asher hadn’t used a condom. She was getting sick at all kinds of smells, and her stomach acted up in the morning. Her breasts were tender, and her period was due in about three days, but she suspected it’d be a no-show. Greer googled pregnancy symptoms and it seemed that one could start getting sick as early as three weeks after conception.

Well, that certainly fit the timeframe for her sex with Asher. Actually, she couldn’t even call it that. She’d refer to it as an
unwanted sperm donation
at this point, because sex implied she might have gotten some pleasure out of it, and that certainly wasn’t the case.

For a moment, she thought about unblocking Asher’s number and texting him. Telling him he got her pregnant and reveling in his panic. She could force him to pay child support, and wouldn’t that be ironic? He was a billionaire, but he was a billionaire only because of her; back when his business had nearly collapsed, she’d secretly given him five million dollars and pretended it was from her father. Milking him for child support would have a vicious sort of justice to it.

But she discarded the idea as quickly as it came. She didn’t want her baby to be a problem. She certainly didn’t want her child to be a weapon between angry, battling parents. Been there, done that. She didn’t want to mess with Asher. Actually, she never wanted to see him again. This would be her child and hers alone. Her hands went to her flat stomach, imagining what her body would look like when the baby started to round it out.

A knock sounded at the door. “Miss Greer?” One of the butlers.

She sat up. “Yes?”

“Mr. Stijn’s returned home if you wish to talk to him.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” She smoothed her hair and straightened her sweater and slacks. She did have to talk to her father. Not only about the party she was going to plan for him, but the baby she was going to have. As her parent, she supposed he deserved to know.

Greer slipped her flats back on and then headed down the stairs and into the main part of the castle, looking for her father. Finding a person in the Dutchman castle was sometimes like finding a needle in a haystack, but her father had a few favorite haunts. He wasn’t in the movie room, the library, or taking laps in the indoor swimming pool. She found him in his study, seated at an enormous glass desk, going over proofs of the next magazine issue.

“Hello,
Vader
,” she called out as she entered.

“Little Greer,” he greeted, putting aside the folder and getting to his feet. “I’m glad you made it. I have a lot of ideas for the party.” He extended his hands to her and she put her hands in his and they exchanged air kisses on their cheeks. “Come sit down, and I’ll go over my checklist.”

That was about as warm as Stijn Janssen got with her, Greer thought wryly. She was treated more like an old business associate than a daughter. There was no asking how one was doing, what she was up to, how her wedding planning business was going. It was always—and always would be—about Stijn and Stijn alone.

At sixty-five, her father was still an impressive figure. Over six feet tall, his hair had finally faded from pale blond to silver, but his shoulders were as broad as ever and his face just as tanned. His cheeks were unlined, but the set of his mouth got a little thinner every year, and he was starting to get a gut. Not that Greer would ever say that to him. “You look well,
Vader
.”

He shot her an unreadable look. “I should. Those women are working me to the bone. So demanding, all three of them. You met them? My triplets?”

Ah yes, nothing like getting reminded that her father didn’t really think of her as a daughter. As if she wanted to hear about his sexual conquests. “I did. They seem very nice.”

“They’re stupid,” he said bluntly, sitting back down in his chair and digging through a few folders. “But they’re enthusiastic.”

Calling them
stupid
seemed cruel. “You do have a type,” she said lightly.

He shot her another look, and this time it was irritated. “I do not. Your mother was nothing like them.”

Yes, and you discarded her and me.
But she bit those words back. “Speaking of mothers . . .”

Stijn pulled out a piece of paper and then put on his reading glasses, perching them on his broad nose. “Now let me tell you my idea for the theme. I was thinking something with ice. Something elegant, though. This is a showpiece of a party. There will be very important people there and we don’t want to look trashy. So, ice. Ice can be elegant. Maybe diamonds. I think—”

“
Vader
,” she interrupted. If he got started on work, she’d never be able to broach the subject of her pregnancy.

He paused and angled his head so he could stare at her over his reading glasses. “What?”

“You should know that . . .” She sucked in a breath, and then forced herself to admit the words. “I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. “Can you work? Is it going to be a problem with planning my celebration?”

“No, it won’t be a problem—”

He tapped his glasses, pushing them farther back on his nose. “So I was thinking diamonds. An elegant theme. Like satin and diamonds. Or does that make you think of strippers?”

She bit back her sigh of disappointment. Why had she expected her father to show any sort of emotion? He never called her unless he needed something. He never remembered her on holidays. He didn’t care about family. Of course he wouldn’t care about her baby. Maybe she was still reaching for that dream of family after all. Hope sprung eternal, and Greer had always been an optimist. She idly touched her stomach. She’d just have to be enough family for her baby without anyone else.

“Greer? Diamonds?”

She sat forward in her chair and pulled a blank piece of paper off his desk, and picked up a pen. “Perhaps we can tweak the idea,
Vader
. Maybe not satin and diamonds. How about black tie and diamonds? Or perhaps just call it a
black tie affair
?”

“Good idea,” Stijn said, grinning. “See, this is why I wanted you to do it. You have good taste.”

And Greer kind of hated that she got a little inward thrill at her father’s approval.

Three Months Later

The Dutchman castle was crawling with people. Some were photographers, some were celebrities, some were rich stockholders like Asher himself, and some were just skimpily clad girls looking to capitalize on their hotness.

So basically, it was like any other Dutchman party.

Asher flashed his invite as he entered, heading for the gardens. He strolled in, put his hands in his tuxedo pockets, and surveyed the area. An enormous draped awning had been set over one portion of the gardens, and the rest was open-air tables nestled snugly on the cobblestone patio that encircled the enormous swimming pool. The pool itself was covered in huge floats shaped like diamonds and blow-up swans. Tacky, but again, typical for a Dutchman party. Each table had wooden folding chairs, a floral centerpiece, and creamy white tablecloths edged with black ribbon. The party was a strange mixture of classy and tawdry. For example, the table settings were gorgeous, but strolling between them were the unmistakable Dutchman girls, carrying flutes of champagne.

One wandered up to him with a tray in her hands. Her wench costume was cut so low that her breasts were bare and spilled out, and the skirt barely covered her thong. She wore the sky-high wooden shoes that were the Dutchman brand, along with the white cap. And she gave him an interested smile that looked as if he were her prey. “Can I get you anything? Drink? Lap candy?” She winked at him.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You let me know if you want any . . . service.” She licked her lips suggestively and then sauntered away.

That wouldn’t be happening. Tonight, he had two missions: to discuss business with Stijn, and to find Greer and apologize for being an ass. Those things were the only reasons he’d taken time out of his busy schedule to pop in to Vegas and show up at this party.

The entire thing was a sham.
Prospectus
magazine’s Businessman of the Year? It was well known among elite circles that it was a lot like one of the Hollywood “Walk of Fame” stars—you paid to play. They’d write puff pieces about how incredible his company was and how business was booming, and it was all to raise the profile of a company that was otherwise sagging and in trouble.

Asher knew this, because he had done it last year as a last-ditch effort to save his company, OutSource Everything. He’d taken a chunk of the money Stijn had sent his way, bought a ton of PR, and made a few risky investments in the hopes of a quick payoff. It had all worked out beautifully, and his company was now doing better than ever. Asher had doubled his fortune.

Now that he knew Stijn was in trouble, he was here to help. It was the least he could do after the man had bailed his ass out, no questions asked.

And then there was Greer. Greer, who’d woken him up from his self-destructive spiral. Whose sweet offering at the party had turned into a nightmare. He’d lost her friendship, and he hadn’t even realized how much it had meant to him. Losing her made him realize he was pissing away friendships he cherished and valued, and that it was time to sack up. He’d eased off the throttle at work, no longer spending sixteen hours a day at the office. He’d stopped drinking entirely, and he was working on rebuilding friendships that had become strained over the past two years, since he’d broken up with Donna and things went into the crapper.

He didn’t even miss Donna anymore. Now, Greer? Greer he missed. He hated that there were no more Monday lunches. He hated that he missed that soft, shy smile of hers, as if she were sharing something special with him when she was pleased. Yeah, Greer he missed, but not Donna.

That was probably the strangest part of all. Donna had been a big part of his life for over ten years, ever since he was sixteen. Her sudden betrayal had gutted him, along with her casual declaration that she no longer loved him and the fact that she moved to Australia to be with her new lover. He’d felt completely hollowed out, as if there was nothing left inside. He’d felt that way for over a year, and every day waking up without Donna at his side had seemed like an exercise in pain.

Somewhere during the past few months, though, that pain had gone away, and he hadn’t even realized it. Donna wasn’t the person he’d fallen in love with anymore, and he’d been too wrapped up in other things to notice it. Now, oddly enough, when he thought about happiness, instead of Donna’s flaming red hair and boisterous laugh, he pictured Greer and her small, quiet smiles that seemed almost reluctant to show themselves.

She had to be here tonight. He wanted to talk to her. If nothing else, to apologize for the way he’d acted. He knew she was avoiding him, and it bothered him. It bothered him that he’d taken advantage of a friend, and that he’d been such an asshole to someone who was nothing but kind to him. Who’d been supporting him since day one, and who’d always had time for him even when the entire world seemed to want to forget his name. She’d always been there for him, and he wanted to be there for her.

He wanted to fix this thing between them.

And, okay, maybe take her out for lunch or get their Mondays scheduled again. But that was pure selfishness talking because he missed her. Most of all, he just wanted to know that Greer was okay with things and he didn’t want her to hate him.

Asher walked the party, looking for a small figure in plain clothing and big glasses. Everywhere he looked, though, there was no sign of Greer. She was Stijn’s daughter, wasn’t she? Surely she’d be here for her father’s award. He mingled for a bit, chatting with acquaintances and scanning the crowd. Lots of scantily clad Dutchgirls. No sign of Greer. That was . . . fucking disappointing.

He was just about to circle through the party again when he saw Stijn Janssen off to one side, talking to a politician. Stijn had his arm around a perky blonde in purple, two identical girls flanking them. Now was as good a time as any to talk to the man. He finished his bottle of water, set it on a nearby table, and approached the small group. As Asher moved in, the politician left, and Stijn’s gaze went to him.

“Mr. Janssen.” Asher extended his hand, putting on his best people-love-me grin. “Great party. Thanks for inviting me.” He nodded at the blondes, one of whom had started twirling her hair and eyeing him with a hungry look. “Ladies.”

To his surprise, Stijn gave him a cool look. “Do I know you?”

“I should hope so.” Asher’s friendly smile remained in place, though inwardly he was wondering what the fuck was up with that. He pulled his hand back, noticing Stijn hadn’t bothered to shake it. “Asher Sutton. I’m one of your stockholders and the owner of OutSource Everything. I was
Prospectus
magazine’s Businessman of the Year last year.”

“Ahhh.” The look in Stijn’s eyes grew cunning, and he held out his hand. “Mr. Sutton. A pleasure to meet you. These are my girlfriends, Bunni, Kiki, and Tiffi.”

Tiffi continued to twirl her hair, smiling at him. Yikes.

“Lucky guy,” Asher said smoothly. He shook Stijn’s hand, trying not to feel distaste for the man. Cold bastard, but he’d saved Asher’s ass, so he couldn’t hate him. “Listen, I wanted to come and thank you personally for what you did for me last year.”

“Girls, give me a moment.” Stijn turned to his girlfriends and made a shooing motion. One dared to kiss his cheek, and then all three scampered away like naughty children. Which, given the age difference between them and their boyfriend, they very well could have been. Jesus. Once the women had left, Stijn’s calculating gaze returned to Asher. “I’m sorry, but I’m confused. What exactly did you say that I did for you?”

This was damned odd. How could the man not remember giving him five million dollars? “I was having some financial trouble last year and you gave me an endowment to bail my company out.” When the man’s face showed not a flicker of recognition, Asher began to wonder if he’d somehow gotten the information wrong. The letter he’d received had come from Dutchman letterhead, though. There was no mistaking the company’s rather lewd logo of a woman with legs spread over the M in Dutchman.

“I do not recall this,” Stijn said slowly. “What was the amount?”

“Five million.”

The elder man’s eyes narrowed at him. “I would know if I gave five million out to a young upstart company.”

His distaste for the man grew, and Asher had to fight to keep the friendly smile on his face. “Nevertheless, I wanted to thank you personally and let you know I was willing to do the same for you.”

That got a reaction from him. Stijn’s pale eyes flickered with interest. He glanced around at the partygoers to make sure no one was close by, and then leaned in. “What is it you think you know about me?” The man’s accent grew heavier.

“I imagine since we both received the
Prospectus
award, that you need it for the same reasons I did.”

Stijn’s nostrils flared. “This is not a good place to talk. But I am interested in your proposition. Shall we meet tomorrow?” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Asher.

He took it, slightly mystified as Stijn nodded at him and then abruptly left, off to greet another man in a tuxedo. Immediately, the three Easter-egg-colored girlfriends flocked close once more, though one kept shooting him longing looks. Well, that was damned odd. Asher tucked the card into his pocket. It was almost as if the man had no idea what Asher was talking about—

Oh, fuck.

Gretchen’s voice wafted through his mind. S
he’s carried a torch for you since, like, grade school.

Greer.

Stijn’s only daughter. Other than an employee of the company, she would be the only one with access to Dutchman letterhead. The money hadn’t come from Stijn after all. It had come from his daughter, who had ample money of her own sitting in multiple trust fund accounts from both parents.

Asher wiped his mouth dry, shocked.

He was such an idiot. He’d never questioned why Greer’s father’s company—a fucking titty magazine—would send a telecom company five million dollars to help him out. He’d just been awash in his own misery, his life falling to pieces around him, and hadn’t stopped to ask questions. He’d taken the money and righted his sinking ship and never questioned the gift.

Greer had never said a thing.

And how had he repaid her? A drunk fuck in the gardens. No wonder she wouldn’t return his calls. He’d hurt her feelings and destroyed their friendship, and until this very moment, he’d had no idea just how much the friendship meant to him. Until they were gone, he hadn’t realized how much their lunches had been such an important part of his week. He’d always thought of Greer as sweet and pleasant to be around, and he liked her as a person. She was quiet, but smart and quick. She’d always made him think, and her observations had made him smile many a time.

Now that he knew what she’d done for him, his affection had grown only deeper. Now that she was no longer in his life? He missed her with a strange ache that he had no idea how to fill.

He had billions now, thanks to her help. It wasn’t the amount of money that humbled him—though that was pretty fucking impressive on its own—it was that she trusted in him enough to fork it out, no questions asked. Greer had been such a true friend to him in his time of need.

It only reinforced his need to find her. She had to be at the party tonight. He’d watch and wait for her to arrive. Her father would be giving a speech soon, and Greer would surely be present for that. He found his place card at one of the tables in the center of the room, a few hungry-looking women already seated there. This party was full of girls on the lookout for a sugar daddy. Again, not surprising given the man they were there tonight to celebrate, but the avid, calculating looks in their eyes made Asher’s skin crawl a little. He plucked his card off the table and switched it with one at the far end of the cluster of tables so he could watch for Greer.

An hour passed. The party was in full swing, people crowding in and getting tipsy. The Dutchman girls were everywhere, breasts exposed as they passed out drinks and posed for photos. How had someone as quiet and unobtrusive as Greer managed to come from an environment such as this? It didn’t make sense. People stopped to chat with him, but he kept the conversations brief, his gaze scanning constantly for the one person he wanted to find. Eventually, people migrated to the tables and the editor of
Prospectus
moved to the podium and began to speak.

Asher’s gaze moved over the crowd. Stijn was seated at the front table with his three girlfriends, all gazing raptly up at the speaker. There were a few other people Asher didn’t recognize at Stijn’s table, but not his daughter. Damn it, where was she?

As one speech ended and people began to clap, Stijn moved toward the podium. As he got up, Asher’s body stiffened. There was Greer, seated directly behind her father at the next table. There was no mistaking the long fall of dark, silky hair and the big, chunky glasses that swallowed up so much of her face. Her brown skin seemed to glow against the pale blue of her low-cut bodice, and her arms were bare.

Immediately, he had an inappropriate boner. Damn it. Asher mentally willed his body to behave, but all he could think about were his few flashes of memory from that night—her soft body welcoming his, the adoring look in her dark eyes, the delicate swells of her dark-tipped breasts. She hadn’t noticed him thus far, and he was able to drink in the sight of her, unobstructed. She smiled and nodded as someone next to her spoke, but her expression seemed to be guarded. Wary. When her father spoke, her expression was attentive, but not beaming with affection or pride. A memory niggled at Asher, of Greer spending holidays back at her apartment rather than going home to visit family. Her expression changed as someone said something to her, and he watched a genuine smile spread across her face, and his body reacted again.

It seemed that now his type had gone from redheads to, well, Greer.

This was not a problem for him.

The speech droned on, Stijn taking his time to talk himself up as he spoke of his company and his many accomplishments. Asher watched Greer through the entire speech, noting when her expression grew distant, and when she truly smiled. Odd that he could tell the difference, given that she tended to mask her emotions well.