Top Love: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Young Adult Stepbrother and Billionaire Romance Stories) (28 page)

But as he started to get closer looking deep into my eyes, I knew that this time I have gone too far and had no turning back…

***

Oh God, the next morning I remembered thinking.  What have I done?  Who did I just sell my body to?  Who did I sleep with over a traffic incident? Sure enough, I felt weird, guilty and somewhat shocked at how easy I gave into his power games.  I woke up in his guest room but he was long gone.  How strange it must be, to be so rich you’re just fine and dandy leaving strangers to their quarters, knowing full well they couldn’t rob you if they tried.

I got dressed quickly, the only thing worse than the hangover being my conscience which was on a constant loop of “What were you thinking?!”

After getting dressed I glanced around for Alfie—or Alfred as I formerly called him before acting like an idiot—but saw nobody.  I guess he was off to his next adventure.

I left the home, figuring some type of self-locking mechanism was at work.  I smiled as I saw a woman approaching the door, looking a bit maid-like, and probably used to seeing strange women walking around the premises, clothed or unclothed.

“Hi there.”

“Hi,” I said shyly.

“So how do you like Alfred?”

“Oh…well.  He’s great.  Yeah we uh…had a really good time last night.”  I nodded happily.

“I assumed,” she said with a perky grin.  “So does Mr. Banes just invite you over to his house or do you go after him?”

“What?  I mean…I don’t know.  I guess we met by accident.  We actually met because of an accident,” I laughed.  “He rear-ended me.  Er, before last night.”  I laughed hard.  He rear-ended me in a parking lot.  But I don’t mean—”

“I get it,” she said with a nod.  “Totally got it.  No worries.”

“Yeah.  So the staff here is friendly, I will say that.”

“Are they?”

“Uhh…aren’t they?  Are you uh…?”

The woman suddenly shook her head and raised her eyebrows.

“You’re not…?  Who, who are you?”

“Just a reporter for Ohio News Weekly magazine.”

“Oh God.  Oh God.  Did I say anything I shouldn’t have?”

“All I want is the truth,” the woman said with a shake of her head.  “Alfred Banes likes to sleep with a lot of women.  Including women he rear-ends in a parking lot.”

“Oh God!  Don’t print that!”

“That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Well…I mean…”

“Or are you just a groupie?”

“No!  No I’m NOT!”

“So he just seduces women everywhere he goes?”

“I…I don’t think I should be talking to you!”

I scurried out of the parking lot and back to my car, driving like hell away from the scene of the crime.  Did I say anything stupid?  Jesus Christ, I thought the woman was a reporter!

I correctly assumed I made a huge mistake.  Before sunset, I saw the local news pick up the story.  Alfred Banes—billionaire playboy and mind controlling genius.  Thousands of women seduced, or so the headline suggested.  Oh God.  I felt terrible.  Alfred Banes was guilty of nothing more than just a game, a role play with consenting adults and now the news had gotten hold of the story and…

The next morning I woke up and sure enough, Alfred left an irate message for me.

“Nice, Barbara.  So that’s my reward for being nice?  Telling the press I seduce thousands of women?  I score with women I meet in parking lots?  Jesus Christ.  I thought we had an understanding.  You know, from the moment I met you, I thought I was being taken advantage of.  I paid for you.  I dropped the damages.  I even took you out for a date when you were a complete BITCH to me.  And now this.  Just stay the fuck out of my life.  How’s that?  If you think ‘Barb’ was poorly written before, I’m going to write the shit out of her now.  I will make the entire world hate you!”

My heart was crushed.  He didn’t return my calls, of course not.   He was done.  I had used him and made him out to be a fool. 

I almost felt bad about it…before remembering that he was going to rake me across the coals in his next book.  Make “Barb” to be the dumbest, meanest bitch ever seen in literature.  I had nothing left to do but to take it.  Grin, bear it and take that mauling.

Sort of like what happened with our night together.  He just took me.  It’s not like we made love, and it was all his idea.  Shit, maybe this was all a mind control thing.  Maybe I was EXACTLY right about Alfred Banes and his dark side.  That’s when I decided, you know what…nothing to lose.  I might as well make this about me.

Dear Renee Mackers:

Hi, this is Barbara Adams, the woman you met at Alfred Banes’ house the other day.  I found your email address from the Channel 10 website.  Just to let you know, I’m not upset.  In fact, if you want a real story, I’m ready to give it to you.  Alfred is an absolute creep.  He did seduce me.  He is not a nice man at all and just loves to control and humiliate “ordinary women” for his amusement.  And worst of all…get this.  He writes about us in his books.  Yes, you read that right.  Call me for details.

              So that’s how my story ends.  Or at least, that’s what I thought, as I sent off the email, preparing for an appointment with the reporter that would destroy Alfred once and for all.  I gave her a story all right and I made it as graphic and horrible as possible.  I didn’t even feel that bad about it after a day or so.  Especially since I realized that Alfred was an asshole from the moment I met him, and then through that whole sex game, and then with that last phone call.  Complete cunt of a man—never even let me explain what I said to the reporter in the first place!  Just assumed the worst.  Well, if Alfred wanted to write me like a bitch, then that’s what he was going to get.

              And then that’s when I decided to be free of the bullshit.  I decided to go back to the store, mingle with my customers—in whatever safe way the manager allowed, as per the mission statement—and forget I ever met the asshole named Alfred Banes.

              And then…wouldn’t you know, the damndest thing happened. 

              The assistant manager Chrissy stopped me as soon as I walked in the door, readying for my morning shift.

“Got some news for you, Barb.”

“Oh?  Bad news?”  I waited nervously, putting my books down.

“Alfred Banes.  You know the billionaire guy?  He paid Kevin the store manager five grand to close down the store for two hours.  He also paid your paycheck for today.  He wants to talk to you.  And apparently he wants your undivided attention.  At any price, you might say!”

“Oh God.”

I walked nervously to the side of the store where a lone man in a suit was waiting.  The store was eerily empty.  Not a man or woman in sight, not a sound throughout the entire building.  Just me and this billionaire mystery man who I still couldn’t make heads or tails of.  Who are you Alfred Banes?  Why did you bring me here?  Why are you still part of my life?  And what could you possibly say to me now?

“Hi, Barbara,” he said evenly, meeting my eyes but void of expression.

“What is it?”

“Here’s the truth, okay?”

I waited, taking another gulp, as usual, my attention held captive at this man’s words…

Alfred Banes was just rich and bratty enough to do something like that.  Instead of writing an apology letter or returning a phone call he decided to buy out the store that I worked for, and force me to listen to an in-person speech.  Yes, I guess it was dramatic.  It worked in that, I have to listen to you so my boss doesn’t think I’m dating stalkers and psychos.  Maybe Alfred thought he was being romantic, I’m not really sure, but all I remember thinking at that moment was How does he expect me to respond?

              “I just wanted a chance to talk,” he said evenly.  “I hope I didn’t cause too much of a disruption.”

              “Yeah right, Mister Buy Out the Whole Store.  Just talk.”

              “The truth is…it wasn’t fair of me to write you into the story.  There, I said it.  The truth, well…the truth is that writing to me is like my therapy.  I don’t talk out my feelings or my thoughts, I just write them out and sometimes they manifest themselves in the characters that I create.  But the way that I treated you…it was wrong.”

              I raised my eyebrows, still not sure if I bought anything this odd fellow had to say.

              “I apologize for overstepping my bounds.  The Barb characters was just written to spite you, and it was just me throwing a tantrum.  You deserve better than that.  But I hope you understand that I never intended to hurt you.  If I did, and I’m sure I did, I regret that.”

              I shrugged, figuring as long as he stopped there, and didn’t completely bullshit it up, maybe he was something close to sincere.  “All right, Alfred.”

              “All right?  So you understand?”

              “Sort of.  Yeah, I guess so.  I said all along that you were in the right.  I guess…I guess sex just complicates things, you know?  That’s why I try to avoid sleeping with every nice guy I meet,” I said with a tight smile.

              “Right.  Yeah, that makes sense.  I was embarrassed, to tell you the truth.  To see my name all over the news.  Trying to call me a womanizer, saying I sleep with women I meet in the parking lot.  It was just too much.”

              “Well, yeah but just imagine how I felt, Alfie.  You wrote me as a complete idiot in your story.  At least when the whole world was talking about you, you got to be Mister Macho.  No one was laughing at you.”

              “You’re right.  I’m not here to argue you.  I’m here, hoping we can start over.”

              “What do you mean start over?” I said, lowering my chin and raising my eyes.  “I thought it was…you know, understood we don’t go well together, Alfie.”

              “I like when you call me Alfie.  It’s an expression of endearment.”

              I listened, cautious as always but feeling a bit of warmth coming from his eyes.

              “I hear that…so very little in my life,” he said with a pathetic forced laugh. 

              I started to feel a little sorry for him, but had to stand my ground.  “I just don’t think that we should be jumping into things like last time.”

              “You’re right.”

              “Maybe, you know, taking it slow is a good idea.”   I looked around the store noticing a few girls were gossiping about me in the break room.  The very idea that I was telling one of the richest men in the world to “slow down”, that’s got to bump up my bad ass points, right?

              “I agree, actually.  That’s a huge relief to me.  I want to take things slow.”

              “Yeah.”

              “So why don’t you come over later and we’ll talk?  You can come sample some new tea I got from Chile.  First time ever tasted by a US consumer!”

              “But…we’re taking it slow, aren’t we?”

              “Darling, we’re sampling tea.  Not flying to Chile for a honeymoon.  I won’t try anything, you have my word.”

              “Okay…” I said suspiciously, but still wanting his face, those mesmerizing eyes back in my life somehow. 

              “Fine.  Look forward to seeing you.”

              He fled the scene quickly, not wanting to “speed things up” by giving me another glance or pretending to be some mushy eyed nice guy with a heart of gold—because God knows that wasn’t Alfred Banes. 

              Instead, he just walked out of the store, a bit of pep in his step, as if he was king of the world again.  But taking it slow seemed right.  And yes, the lure of international one-of-a-kind tea was tempting.

              I showed up to Alfred’s manor punctual as always, wearing a black dress with scoop neckline and three-quarter sleeves.  I wanted to look nice for him but stop short of anything in the territory of “love slave.”  Yes, the fantasy was fun for one night, but that’s not what I wanted from the relationship.  I really wanted someone to respect me and I wasn’t quite sure if Alfie was capable of that or not.  I liked him again, I felt affection for him.  But he was more of a mystery now than he had ever been.

“How’s the tea?” he asked, sipping his cup and seemingly more excited about tasting the tea than tasting me.  Not that I minded.  I liked seeing him in non-billionaire mode, not a Top or a Womanizer, but just a guy enjoying life for a change.

“It’s…surprisingly bland, I said, smacking my lips.”

“That was my first thought too, he said, before taking pause so the taste could settle.  “But if you drink it slowly you can tell there is a very subtle taste afterward, which almost seems like champurrado but blended with something…hmm…maybe in the vein of nectar.”

You’re very smart about tea.”

“Well, even I keep hobbies.  When I’m not writing, that is.”

“And you are a great writer.  If nothing else,” I said with a wink.

He responded with a smile and the room seemed to brighten with the mood.  Alfred was a prickly pear at times but this was the real Alfie—the man who sipped tea and contemplated deep and wonderful things in between fun conversations. 

“Make yourself at home,” he said, getting off the couch and wandering over to his office a few rooms down the long hallway.  “I just have to check my email.”

“No problem.”

Indeed, how does a houseguest make herself feel at home in such a foreign environment?  The walls themselves looked like stone—empty and hollow.  The whole place felt like false emotion, a simulation of a rich man’s happy life.  I wondered who Alfie was or if he even knew what was real and what was an act.  Maybe he wrote dialog for himself, thinking this is how people expect him to act. 

Alfred took a while in his office so my attention drifted from the bland tea to the far more interesting coffee table near his easy chair.  I looked around the room, pondering the temptation.  It was surely rude to sneak into another man’s personal files, but was it unforgivable?  Was it so immature of me to want to know something real, something tangible about this guy who kept everything hidden? 

All I wanted was to peer inside his mind, his true heart, to see something that’s not part of his carefully crafted façade, or part of a book.

I hurried over to the easy chair and opened his laptop, quickly clicking on his Documents folder until I found a particularly interesting folder entitled “Victoria – PS.”

Victoria, sounded like a loaded name to me.  I clicked opened the folder and found something only a little scandalous.  A black-haired woman, roughly my age, and with a confident and proud look on her face.  No nudes.  Not even a smile, I thought to myself as I looked at the series of pictures, very professional, very controlled. 

Could this be his wife?  Or his ex-wife or maybe a long lost love?  Maybe it was just a character he was creating, a false alarm.  The folder had everything, from a scan of his marriage license to a decree of divorce.  He definitely loved and lost, but that’s no big surprise coming from the author known for his tragic love stories.

Then, I found the mother lode—Victoria, his wife, was just a memory.  He had written a tribute to her for the newspaper, stating that they once loved each other and that he would miss her.  Did that mean she died?  Or was it an amicable split?  The writing was brief, almost emotionally distant like a statement to the press—but how much emotion could a man summon for his ex-wife?

I also saw a letter entitled “Always” which I had to open.  I read in amazement as if I was immersed in a brand new Alfred Banes Novel that the world wasn’t lucky enough to read.

To Victoria:

Hello Victoria.  I really don’t know why I’m writing this letter.  But all I do know is that I’m in love with you.  I know you feel the same way.  I can feel it, every time we speak face to face.  You are who I’ve been looking for my whole life.  I understand that the situation is difficult.  I understand that maybe you don’t feel as strongly as I do.  But every time I look into your eyes, every time your presence enters a room I am happy.  I am finally happy.

So please don’t give up on me.  Give me a chance.  I will show you.  I will show you what a good person I can be.  I will make you so proud of me.  Don’t see me as the man I am now.  See me tomorrow.  Know that I will be on top, tomorrow.  I will be a king.  And you will be all I see, on that special day when I realize my dream, you will be the only person on my mind. 

Everything I do, everything I am, everything I aspire to be is for you.

Love always,

-Alfred

It was a passage worthy of one of his novels and true to character, it just made me want to know who this Victoria person was and what could possibly have gone wrong in that relationship.  How does love this strong grow sour?  What was the missing puzzle piece?

Whomever Victoria was, she was the driving factor of all of Alfred Banes—the source of his discontent and the taste in his mouth he was constantly trying to get rid of, with every sip of new tea. 

Just as my curiosity peaked a strong presence filled the room and a booming voice erupted, as subtly as a volcano!  I panicked and jumped back like a school girl caught cheating in class. 

“Well!  Did you get a good look, Barbara?”

“I’m sorry!” I said, talking with my hands more than my own mouth.  I felt terrible.  It was childish and like something an undercover police officer would do, but certainly not a mature woman in an adult relationship trying to make amends.  I honestly didn’t know what else to say and slapped my hands over my mouth to emphasize this embarrassment. 

He looked at the laptop and saw his ex’s name, quickly grabbing it from the table and taking it to safety. 

“Sorry…”  For a moment a sense of dread came over me.  But it’s not like he could kill me, right?  I had a flashback to the second grade, that terrible feeling of impending doom and being in trouble.  I broke the law, I invaded his privacy.  I went too far.

              “How dare you!” he said, for once showing some real emotion.  “This has nothing to do with you!”

              “I…I…”  I was confused. 

              “What’s the matter with you?” he said, raising his voice and protecting his laptop—indeed the very memory of his beloved Victoria—behind his back.

              “I’m sorry.  I crossed the line.”

              “This is type of shit that undercover cops do, Barbara.  Are you a cop or a reporter?”

              “No…”

              “So you’re just a complete psycho?  A stalker who goes through my stuff without any common respect or decency?”

              “I’m sorry.”

              “Oh my God,” he said in awe of my disturbing behavior.  “Get the hell out of my house.  I don’t want to see you.”

              “Okay…”

              I got up and scurried out of the house, just as scared for my life as I was hurt.  He knew just what to say to break my confidence and destroy any compassion I had for him and his psychosis. 

              “I was right about you!” he yelled, even as I hit the door and readied to run far away.  “Take, take, take Barbara!  God!”

“I’m sorry!” I screamed back right before slamming the door and letting the waterworks flow.  I didn’t understand him.  Apparently I had no respect for him.  I just didn’t KNOW how to deal with Alfred, at all.  Whatever he was, wherever his mind was, it was just beyond me. 

No fucking wonder Victoria divorced you!  That’s what I felt like saying.  But it’s probably a good thing I just made my exit at that point.

Yes, I was angry.  I felt abused by Alfred and yet, I also felt guilty since what I did wasn’t normal behavior.  I did feel like a journalist or at least a stalker, rather than a confident woman who could handle a billionaire’s mindset.  I failed miserably.  I tempered my anger at him with the realization that a lot of it was my own personal baggage. 

I hate secrets and yet crave them.  I want to know him so much and yet every new facet of him scares me.  Correctly assuming Alfred didn’t want to see my face anytime soon I decided to indulge my PI skills and get to the bottom of this Victoria story. 

Wouldn’t you know but Renee Mackers, that evil gossip columnist intent on character assassinating Alfred Banes, was also one of his biggest fans.  Funny how that works!