Expose (Billionaire Series) (9 page)

What
had made no sense the night before made even less sense today
–
but
the sting of Mathis’ words had oddly grown in proportion to the enormity of the
encounter with the mob boss. I knew I wanted to talk to Sharon about all of
this as soon as possible, but I wasn’t going to be so unkind as to call her at
7am on a Sunday, so I set about cleaning my small apartment, doing laundry,
washing the few dishes in the sink, vacuuming the carpets and changing the
sheets on my bed – anything to help pass the time and stop me from thinking too
hard about the night before.

By
the time I had done every single task imaginable, my apartment was ridiculously
clean. I had done everything including reorganizing my silverware drawer and
dusting along the tops of all the doors. Now it was 9:30. I looked around my
apartment to find something else to work on, but no such luck. I guessed it was
about time to call Sharon. It was still early, but I might as well take the
risk. I didn’t want to give myself more dead time to worry and think about what
had happened last night.

Luckily,
she picked up rather quickly, almost as if she had been expecting me to call
her.

“Hey,
Amanda!” She sounded a little tired, but as chirpy as ever. “Some night last
night, huh?”

“You
seemed to have a lot of fun,” I said moving along the conversation.

“Yeah,
that’s because I did! How about you? You seemed sort of upset when you came
back from…wherever you went,” Sharon said cautiously. “Are you going to tell me
what really happened?”

“You
know I wouldn’t keep anything from you,” I said. “I just didn’t want to ruin
your evening or pull poor old Ryan into my problems.”

“Much
appreciated,” laughed Sharon, “but you can’t ruin my day – I’ve got five emails
in my inbox asking me to meet for a wedding consultation – all of them from
last night! So whatever you need to tell me, it can’t ruin my happy mood!”

“That’s
amazing!” I was truly happy for Sharon. It seemed like her career was taking
flight just as my life was turning into a bad TV drama. I couldn’t help feeling
a little bit jealous, but I was honestly delighted that her hard work was
paying off.

“Yeah
– the one guy wrote that his fiancée was thinking about a wedding in England –
imagine that! A free trip to England!”

“Wow,”
I said, truly impressed.

“But
anyway,” Sharon seemed to remember why we were talking, “what went on last
night that got you so upset?”

“I
bumped into Mathis,” I admitted. “Not on purpose,” I added quickly. “I was
coming back from the restroom and I heard him talking to someone. I didn’t mean
to, but I listened, and it didn’t take long for me to realize he was talking to
the mob boss.”

“Oh,
what!?” Sharon’s exclamation was part horror, part enjoyment – I supposed she
couldn’t help feeling that there was a bit of excitement mixed into it all. She
hadn’t been there – she couldn’t know what a cold, clenched feeling it gave me
in my gut even to talk about it.

“He
threatened Mathis and Mathis wouldn’t have any of it, but it really shook me.
He said next time he’d do something worse than threats,” I shuddered.

“You
should’ve gotten out of there,” Sharon responded.

“I
know, but I didn’t want them to hear me. I accidentally ran into Mathis
afterwards, and he was furious.”

“Oh,
Mandy, I’m sorry. That must have been hard,” Sharon said sympathetically.

“It
hurt,” I admitted. “But I think he was mostly just scared for me.”

“And
rightly so,” agreed Sharon, approval loud and clear in her voice. “You could
have been hurt – or worse – if that boss guy had seen you.”

“But
there’s something else,” I confessed. “Mathis told me…my Uncle Andy had
forbidden him to come near me.”

“W-what?”
Sharon hesitated, sounding almost as stunned as I had been. “That’s crazy! Are
you sure he wasn’t making it up to try and convince you to stay away?”

“I’m
pretty sure,” I said. “I remember the first summer when I met Mathis. He
disappeared one day without a word – right after Uncle Andy saw us together.
Now that I think back to it, Uncle Andy reacted strangely to the two of us
being together. He must have warned Mathis off. I didn’t put two and two
together back then, but now…it all fits.”

“I
wonder why he didn’t want the two of you together,” Sharon said, her voice
puzzled. “You couldn’t secretly be brother and sister, could you?”

“Ew,
of course not,” I said. “We look nothing alike! Besides, Mathis lived with both
his parents and so did I, so I know we’re not related at all. I think Uncle
Andy felt like Mathis was a son to him, but there was no blood relationship
between them.”

“Maybe
that’s it, then,” Sharon said. “He felt like Mathis was his son and you were
his daughter, so he had trouble letting the two of you explore your feelings
for each other.”

“I
guess,” I said. “It still seems extreme – to forbid us for all eternity and all
that.”

“Well,
he did make sure Mathis would be the one to tutor you once he died,” Sharon
said. “Maybe after all those years he had a change of heart and wanted the two
of you to make your own choices about each other.”

“I
don’t know – wouldn’t he have said something?” I said.

“Not
if he didn’t know if you would still hit it off,” Sharon countered. “He was
leaving it up to you.”

“It
could be,” I admitted, “but Mathis seems to have taken it to heart.”

“Well,
from what you’ve said it seems as if Mathis owes everything he is to your uncle
– it’s no wonder he doesn’t want to disappoint him,” Sharon reasoned. “In the
end, Amanda, you should follow your heart no matter what gets in the way.”

“I
know. But Mathis—”

“I
agree,” Sharon cut in, “you should keep yourself safe and not get in the way of
this mob boss, but that’s a different matter from never ever seeing him again.
If you want to, you should find a way.”

“Thanks,
Sharon,” I said.

I
hung up the phone feeling lighter and happier again. Sharon always had that
effect – sometimes I thought she knew me better than I knew myself. She was
right. No matter what happened, I couldn’t refuse to listen to what my heart
was telling me – and my heart was telling me not to give up.

The answering
machine was blinking when she walked in the door and she immediately pulled her
cell phone out of her pocket. Most people who called her only called the
landline when they couldn't reach her on her mobile.

“Shit,” Jennifer
swore. She hadn't checked her battery before work and it had died. She plugged
it in and then hit play on the answering machine as she kicked off her shoes.

“Hey, Jenny, it's
Brad. I called your cell a couple times and didn't get answer. I'm getting
worried. Call me.” He didn't sound too happy.

**BEEP**

“Jennifer, it's
Rachel. I'm guessing you forgot to charge your phone again. I won't be home
tonight. Remember the hottie from the restaurant? Cole? He asked me out after
work and I fully intend to take advantage of having tomorrow off.” Rachel's
voice grew serious. “Thing is, I'd like to talk to you before the next time I
see you because who knows when that'll be. Give me a call when you get home
from work. Thanks, sweetie. Love ya.”

**BEEP**

“It's Brad again.
I'm guessing you're at work, but I can't figure out why you haven't responded
to any of my voicemails. Maybe you need to give me your work number so this
doesn't happen. I'll try again later.” She could hear the edge to his voice
even though he was trying to sound pleasant.

Voicemails? Plural?
As in, he'd called more than once.

Jennifer sighed in
frustration as she went back to her phone. Sure enough, there were eight missed
calls from Brad and eight voicemails. She wasn't going to listen to them. She'd
already heard two of his messages. She didn't need to hear the same thing eight
more times. Besides, she knew it was an answer he was after and she wasn't
ready to face that just yet.

Jennifer deleted
the messages and told herself that she'd call him later. Right now, she needed
to talk to Rachel. Their conversation had gotten cut off last night and
Jennifer really did want her friend's perspective on the whole thing. It
shouldn't take long. Rachel had a way of putting things succinctly that most
other people would take hours to explain.

After she'd changed
out of her work clothes and into a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she
grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of pretzels to munch on. She had a feeling
she wouldn't be doing much of the talking in this particular conversation. When
Rachel was giving her opinion, she tended to dominate the conversation. Since
the cell was still charging, Jennifer took the house phone with her to the
couch.

“Forgot to charge
the phone again, didn't you?” Rachel's voice was dryly amused as she answered.

“Yeah, Mom, I know,
I need to pay better attention.” Jennifer grinned at the familiar exchange.
Even though she and her roommate were less than five years apart in age, Rachel
often took a mothering approach to their friendship. She said it was the result
of having been raised with all brothers. She mothered them and they were
extremely overprotective of her. Jennifer was of the opinion that it was just
Rachel's personality, but she didn't argue her point of view.

“Look, Jennifer,”
Rachel grew serious. “There were some things that I didn't get to finish saying
yesterday, but I need to know that you want to hear them.”

“I do.” Now she was
curious. Usually she only had to ask once for Rachel's opinion.

“You know how you
asked if I believed if people could change and I said I did? I was going to
offer a clarification at the end of that statement because I don't think it's
just some magical thing that happens just because time passes. At least, not in
the way you're talking about. When it's in someone's personality to treat
others poorly or to control other people, it's ingrained in their personality,
a part of them. They might want to change it, especially if it's hurting their
relationships, but it's hardly ever something they can do on their own.”

Jennifer set down
her bottle of water, her stomach tightening. Rachel was saying what Jennifer
had been afraid of, that she was being too hopeful about Brad being different.

“Did Brad say that
he'd gotten any help? Like from a therapist or a counselor?”

“No,” Jennifer's
voice was small. She didn't even have to ask Brad to know the answer to that
question, even if he hadn't said it. Brad had always said that people who
needed therapists were just too weak to deal with things themselves. “He just
said that he'd come to the realization that there’d just been a
miscommunication this whole time. That he never actually meant to say anything
hurtful.”

“Sweetie,” Rachel's
voice softened. “Did he ever actually admit that he'd done anything wrong or
did he claim all of it was a mistake or a misunderstanding?”

Jennifer swallowed
hard. She hadn't thought about that before.

Rachel took
Jennifer's silence as an answer and asked another question. “Would you believe
an alcoholic who said they were sober if they hadn't gone to rehab?”

“If they weren't
drinking anymore…” Jennifer could hear the hopeful note in her voice and hated
herself for it. “I could see that they'd changed.”

“And have you
really seen a difference in how he's treating you or is he just saying that
he's changed?”

Rachel fell silent
as Jennifer considered the question. Brad had listened to her, had given her a
metaphorical shoulder to cry on, but had there been an ulterior motive there?
Had he just been telling her what she wanted to hear so she'd be willing to try
their relationship again? Had she really fallen for his tricks again?

Her eyes fell on
her cell phone and she remembered the eight voicemails she hadn't listened to
and two from her answering machine that she had heard. This time, however, she
let herself hear and see what she hadn't before. She could hear the familiar
undertone that had been present in so many of his conversations before, the one
that meant he was annoyed at her but wasn't going to come out and say it.

And then there was
their conversation the day after he'd proposed, when he'd been pushing her to
make a decision. The things he'd said, at the time she'd thought that they'd
made sense, that he'd been presenting her with a logical argument, but now she
could hear the cruelty behind the statements. Then, of course, before he'd
claimed he'd changed, there had been the confrontation at the hotel where he'd
all but said that she'd gotten her promotion through sex.

“What do you think
I should do, Rachel?” Jennifer asked in a small voice. She was even more torn
than she had been before. She still wanted to believe that Brad had changed,
but everything that Rachel had said and everything that her own eyes and ears
were telling her said that he hadn't.

“Do you love him?”

Leave it to Rachel
to be blunt about it. “Honestly, I don't know. I did once and I thought I
always would, but now I'm not so sure.”

“And could this be
because of a Mr. Philip Haas?” Rachel's tone changed to one of curiosity. “Any
changes on that front?”

“I think so,”
Jennifer's thoughts shifted. “We had a good talk today at work.”

“So you being home
early isn't because he said something stupid?”

“No,” Jennifer
hurried to answer. “Philip sent me home early today because I'm probably going
to have to stay late tomorrow because we're getting some new files.”

“Sure, files.”

Jennifer could hear
the smirk that she was sure was on her friend's face. “Seriously, Rachel.”

“Sorry. I couldn't
resist.”

“There is something
else about Philip I need to tell you.” Now that they'd gone through the stuff
with Brad and moved on to Philip, it just made sense for Jennifer to share
everything else she'd learned. “The other day, he spilled some coffee on his
shirt and when I came back from getting some paper towels, I saw these
scars...”

Rachel listened
without saying a word as Jennifer explained what she'd seen, what Philip had
told her and her own suspicions regarding the origins of the scars that marred
his back. This time, she also included seeing Eloisa for the first time before
ending with her encounter with the French woman just a short time ago.

“Wow,” Rachel said
after nearly a full minute of silence. “That's…a lot of stuff.”

“Tell me about it,”
Jennifer muttered.

“It does make sense
though,” Rachel continued. “All of your theories about his behavior and all of
that.”

“But?” Jennifer
knew her friend well enough to know there was a 'but' coming.

“But I have to ask
you the same thing about Philip that I did about Brad. Do you love him? Not, do
you feel sorry for him. Not, is he a good boss. Not even is he a good lay,
though from what you've told me, that's not even a question. We're talking
serious ramifications no matter which man you choose. And they both have their
fair share of baggage, it seems. The only way any of that will work is if you
love him. And if you don't love either one, then you should choose neither.”

Jennifer was
startled by her friend's last statement. She hadn't even considered that as a
possibility. The entire time, she'd been thinking of it as a choice between two
men when, in reality, it was a choice between three different lives.

She was barely
aware that she was saying good-bye to Rachel and promising to tell her as soon
as a decision was made. Her brain was still trying to wrap around the fact that
she'd been coming at this from the wrong angle. Rachel was right. It came down
to who she loved. Brad, Philip, or neither. And each one had its risks and its
rewards.

Brad was
comfortable in his predictability. No matter how volatile he appeared to be,
his behavior was actually the easiest to foresee. She'd accept the proposal and
they'd have a quickie wedding after Brad convinced her that something big
wasn't necessary. He'd make her quit her job, claiming he needed her at home.
He'd pretend to want kids, all the while nagging her about taking her birth
control and giving excuses as to why it wasn't the right time yet.

She'd see her
family once every couple of years and Brad would barely let her stay more than
a couple hours after her parents' funerals. While he'd never leave her and
she'd never doubt where she stood with him, he'd continually cheat on her with
various surgically enhanced bimbos with IQs smaller than their freakishly
abnormal busts, all the while claiming that is was her fault that he had to go
elsewhere to find something with any type of skill in bed. She'd spend her days
at home, trying to figure out ways to keep Brad happy while he spent their
savings on strippers and alcohol. Every so often, he'd buy her a gift or take
her some place special and they'd spend several wonderful hours together,
reminding her why she'd chosen him in the first place.

Philip wasn't quite
so easy to predict a future for, especially with this whole situation with his
father. Jennifer could, at least, get a general idea. They'd keep sleeping
together while he trained her. Sometimes, she'd still wonder if she was
anything more than a living play thing.

Her doubts wouldn't
fully go away until she had a ring on her finger, and even then she'd ask
herself if she deserved all of this. Philip's reticence would return at various
intervals, always giving her more self-doubt. They'd have no kids since Philip
lived in constant fear of becoming his father and the majority of their
arguments would be about either him keeping secrets about his past or him not
being willing to confront his past.

If she decided that
she didn't love either one of them, she could also predict would happen. For
the first few months, Brad would keep after her to change her mind, but he'd
eventually find someone else and disappear forever. Philip would bury himself
in his business. He might continue to train her, but he might also decide she
wasn't worth the effort and either fire her or 'relocate' her. He'd give her a
stunning recommendation that would get her a job at pretty much any hotel in
the city, or outside of it if she decided to move. And while she might find
someone else, she knew that a part of her would always wonder if she'd made the
right choice.