The Billionaire's Secret (9 page)

“I will do my best, Ms. Manning,” Lizette
said, trying to sound hopeful.

“You always do. I know you won’t disappoint
us.”

Lizette hung up in disbelief. Maybe this was
just a terrible dream.
More like a nightmare.
Ms. Manning
had said the door was open—not quite. Lizette recalled calling Jon
a liar as she slammed the door in his face.
Really, could a door
be any more closed than that?

Throwing the covers off, she got up and said
to herself, “This weekend can’t get any worse.” At least, she hoped
it couldn’t—but since Friday nothing seemed to be going the way
she’d planned.

First things first, she had to find the
number Jon’s personal assistant had given her in case of emergency.
At the moment, she could not even remember his name. She wasn’t
even sure she’d kept it. When he’d given it to her, she thought she
was never going to use it. Of course, finding the number was only
part of the problem. What to say when she made the call—that was
another problem. First, find the number. She would call tomorrow
after she figured out how to explain her behavior last night. There
was no doubt it would come with a huge apology. And then she would
somehow ask for a donation. To pull this off, she was going to need
a lot of coffee, a lot of planning, and a lot of luck.

Jon was finding it difficult to concentrate
on work, as the battle between his mind and body continued. He had
already lost valuable time Friday and Saturday; he could not afford
to lose any more. The revisions needed to be completed within the
next two and a half weeks. For most people, Sunday was a day of
rest. A day you spend with family and friends. For him, it usually
meant a day in the office with no interruptions. Today, he wished
for an interruption that might give him something else to think
about, because he found keeping his mind on work difficult if not
impossible. He wasn’t about to let a little bit of chemistry with a
woman interfere with his work.
Who do I think I’m kidding?
This wasn’t a little bit of chemistry; it was pure fire when they
touched. His mind wandered back to Lizette. He’d never had a
problem focusing on work. But since she’d bumped into him Friday
night, he could not stop thinking of her breasts pressed against
his chest, the soft silken skin of her back, and her beautiful
green eyes that had darkened last night with his kiss. He wanted to
touch and taste every inch of her.

Closing his computer, he said, “This is not
going to work.” He needed to see her again, to hold her, touch her,
kiss her. He reached for his cell phone and began dialing Matt’s
number when an incoming call beeped in. It was Ross.

“Morning, Ross.”

“Hello, Jon. I’m surprised you answered your
phone.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, by the looks of the pictures in the
paper, you and Lizette seemed to have enjoyed yourselves yesterday.
I thought maybe . . .”

“Maybe what, Ross? And what do you mean by
pictures?”

“Well, I thought maybe you were too
preoccupied to answer the phone.” He laughed. After Jon didn’t
respond, he continued, “Let me guess . . . you’re at work on Sunday
morning and have not even turned on the TV or opened a newspaper.
Why am I not shocked?”

“Yes, Ross, I’m working. I have deadlines
that need to be met, and I don’t have time for—”

“Deadlines, commitments—Jon, I get it. We
all face similar challenges in our companies. But come on, that
woman is beautiful, really beautiful. I know you’re not blind. You
seemed to be enjoying her company Friday night. We thought she
might help you think of something other than work for a
change.”

Well, she definitely was doing that,
Jon thought. “What do you mean by ‘we’? Who is ‘we’? Don’t tell me
you three put Lizette up to this?”

“What? No. Well, not exactly.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“Remember back in college when the five of
us used to . . . let’s say, help guide situations along?”

Jon thought back to some of the crazy stuff
they had pulled on each other. Usually it was harmless pranks and
bets among the five friends. Mostly it was Drew, Trent, and Brad
who were the geniuses behind everything. How they never got caught
was beyond him. But they had been younger then. He had no time and
found no enjoyment in such things any longer. “Yes, I do. But that
was a long time ago. What does that have to do with me or
Lizette?”

“Well, let’s just say Drew has not lost his
touch.”

“What did he do?”

“You remember the good ol’ days when we bet
a couple bucks on a certain outcome? Well, let’s just say Drew just
won fifty thousand dollars off of Trent. Don’t worry, as always,
the money will go to charity.”

Frustration evident in his voice, Jon
demanded, “Answer the fucking question. What did Drew do?”

“I am not sure exactly how he pulled it off.
You know he was the master who never divulged his secrets.”

“And what did he pull off?”

“Really, Jon, you are too focused on work.
Did you really believe Lizette won that raffle by chance?”

Actually, yes
, Jon thought. What had
he been thinking? Nothing to do with that evening had happened by
chance. He wasn’t sure what part Lizette had played in this scheme,
but he was going to find out. He didn’t like the thought of her
being involved with his friends. Had the fire and ice all been an
act, all part of a bet she’d made with his friends? It had been a
long time since anyone was stupid enough to play a prank on him.
His blood boiled with anger. Ross was still speaking when Jon hung
up the phone. This wasn’t going to end well for Drew or
Lizette.

Jon hit the button on his intercom but got
no response. “Damn.” He’d forgotten it was Sunday. Matt wasn’t in
the office. Grabbing his cell phone, he called Matt.

“Good morning, Mr. Vinchi,” said Matt.

“Do you still have the number for Miss
Burke?”

“Yes, sir, I do, one moment while I retrieve
it. And how was the date Saturday? Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Just give me the damn number, Matt.”

“Yes, sir, sorry, one more moment . . . ah,
here it is.” Matt rattled off the number. “Is there any—”

Jon hung up and immediately started to dial
Lizette’s number. He did not finish. What kind of answers was he
going to get from her over the phone? No. This was going to have to
be done in person. He dialed Matt again.

“Yes, sir, what can I—?”

“Matt, I need the helicopter ready to leave
in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, sir. Will you need any other
arrangements?”

“Have the car waiting for me when I arrive
in Rhode Island. This is going to be a short trip so the pilot
should remain on standby. Understood?”

Jon looked at his watch. It was nine thirty.
He should be at her home before noon. Perfect. Settle this, then he
could return back to New York and concentrate on his work—without
distraction.

The doorbell rang again. She quickly jumped
out of the shower, pulled on her robe, and grabbed some money off
the counter.
The man said forty-five minutes for delivery, not
fifteen,
she thought as she opened her front door. She ordered
the same thing every Sunday at the same time, eleven thirty and it
had never been delivered before noon before. Her hair was half in
her eyes and dripping wet; she hadn’t had time to towel herself
dry. Without looking at him, she handed the man at the door twenty
dollars and said, “I thought it took more time to cook a pizza.”
The man took the money but handed her nothing in return.

“I’m disappointed. Here I thought you
answered the door half-dressed just for me.”

God, no
.
It can’t be
. But it
was.

Quickly pulling the robe tightly closed
around her neck, she asked, “What are you doing here, Mr.
Vinchi?”

“It’s Jon, and we have some unfinished
business from last night. I’m here to talk.”

She wanted to scream, “I have nothing to say
to you,” but then she recalled Ms. Manning’s words. The company and
community were counting on her.

“I agree, Mr. Vinchi. I would like to
apologize for my rude behavior.”

“Do you think you can invite me in first,
and then we can talk?”

Looking around, she saw her neighbors
staring as they walked by with their Jack Russell terrier. Now that
she’d made the local news, she was sure everyone was going to be
watching what she did for some time. Jon was right; they needed to
talk, and she did not want others to overhear her try to explain
her actions from yesterday. Which she hadn’t yet figured out how to
explain. She was still on the schedule she had set this morning:
plan today, call him tomorrow.

Moving so he could pass by her, she said,
“Yes, of course. Please come in. We can sit in the living
room.”

Jon entered and went to sit in a large
leather recliner near the fireplace.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

She could feel Jon’s eyes roaming over her.
There was no way she was going to have this conversation with him
while wearing only a robe. Even though she could see he was angry,
she could also feel the sexual tension in the room. “Can you please
excuse me for a few minutes while I make myself more presentable?”
Without waiting for an answer, she quickly scooted away to her
room. She grabbed a flowered maxi-dress out of her closet and
slipped it over her head.
Thank God for simplicity,
she
thought. Then she combed her still-wet hair and twisted it into a
loose bun, fastening it with a clip at the nape of her neck. Taking
a deep breath, she mustered up the courage to go back into the
living room and face Jon again.

When she entered, she saw the veggie pizza
she had ordered sitting on the coffee table. Jon was flipping
through a photo album that usually rested on that table. She did
not like the idea of him nosing around in her personal stuff. This
was a visit about business, not pleasure.

Taking a seat on the couch across from Jon,
she said, “Mr. Vinchi, as I was saying earlier, I would like to
apologize for my behavior last night.”

“Just last night? What about Friday?”

“Friday? I don’t remember being rude on
Friday. I actually think . . . ” Her tone was growing harsh.
Play nice,
Lizette
. “I’m sorry, I don’t normally
behave like that. I was just exhausted. But that really is no
excuse for the way I spoke to you and treated you yesterday.” He
just looked at her, not saying anything. What did he want from her?
She’d apologized. “I was actually going to call you tomorrow to
apologize. I didn’t want to disturb you on a Sunday after you’d had
to spend the entire day with me yesterday.” Still he just sat there
watching her. It was unnerving. “I don’t know what else I can say,
Mr. Vinchi. I do hope you can accept my apology.”

“Are you done?” He put the album down and
leaned closer to her. “The charade is over, Lizette. I already know
all about it. I am not the type of person you want to play these
games with. You and I both know you are not sorry. Well, let me
correct that—I’m sure you’re sorry you’ve been found out and your
little charade ended sooner than you thought it would. You can tell
your friend this game is over. Understood?”

Game? She wouldn’t call groveling and
begging for forgiveness so he’ll sponsor her company with a large
donation a game. And how did he find out? She’d never gotten to ask
him to sponsor Another Chance. He hadn’t given her the opportunity.
Maybe he bugged her phone or something. Nothing would surprise her.
That’s the way these corporate giants did things. Take what you
want and discard it when it is no longer useful. She was sure the
Date of Your Dreams was just a publicity stunt. He’d got what he
wanted. She wasn’t going to give up on getting what Another Chance
needed without a fight.

“Mr. Vinchi, I know you are upset with me.
Friday was my first time. I am not used to doing this, but there is
no one to blame but me.”

“Lizette, I don’t believe in coincidences. I
should have known when you ‘bumped’ into me something was up. And
yet you say that was your first time? Well, you really had me
fooled. And the dinner at Ma’s house—very impressive, Lizette. Now
I understand why you didn’t want us to get to know each other
better. What I don’t understand is, what do you get out of this?
What were you promised, and just how far were you willing to go to
get it?”

“I don’t personally get anything out of
this. As I said, I did not do this for me. It’s my job.”

“Do you work for Drew?”

“Drew? I don’t know who Drew is. My boss is
Ms. Manning, Ms. Elaine Manning. As I told you Friday night, I work
for Another Chance.”

“How do you know Drew?” he demanded.

“I already told you, I don’t know any Drew,”
she said, her voice also rising.

Once again Jon just stared at her, analyzing
her.

“I’m not sure what you think is going on
here, but I assure you Ms. Manning runs a very respectable company.
When she asked me to speak to you about becoming a sponsor for the
agency, I had no idea you would have been so opposed to the idea. I
mean, you attended the event Friday night. And then, after helping
us at the park, I thought you were different, that you might want
to help us, help the community. But evidently I was wrong. You are
exactly what I thought you were.”

“What are you talking about, Lizette?”

“I am talking about asking you for a
donation, asking if Vinchi Medical Engineering would be willing to
sponsor Another Chance. You said you knew what this was about. We
are in dire need of financial assistance, and if we do not find
any, we will be forced to close our doors. People will not only
lose their jobs, but we’ll be leaving the community without any
support. I understand you are upset with me. I was rude, and I have
not given you any reason to trust me, but I beg you, please at
least speak to Ms. Manning before making your final decision.”