The Billion Dollar Sitter (13 page)

"Marci?"

I trembled in place.
So what if you're just his grief squeeze. You know how many girls would jump at the chance to be in your position? To be at the side of a billionaire even for a day?
"I, uh, you know," I continued to stammer.

"Are you okay? I can send for a nurse." He reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder. I glared at it.

"I'm uh, um,"
Why rock the boat? What kind of selfish person are you? He gives you all this and you still want more?

"Marci?" His hand massaged my shoulder, his attempt to calm me.

"I'm, uh, um, I can't, uh,"
You know he couldn't really love a girl like you. You're the peasant to his king. If you didn't look like her he'd have nothing to do with you. You want to throw his grief in his face? Tell him you don't want to be his comfort in tough times? Break his heart? What do you expect to happen? You'll be lucky if he gives you a coach ticket back home from France.

"I'll get the nurse."

No more high life. No more wonderful sex. No more Tyson. That's all that will come from telling him how you really feel.

My hand grabbed his. "I'm fine," I managed to say. "I'm fine. Everything's fine." I breathed steadily.

"You sure, Marci?"

I nodded. "Uh huh."

"Now tell me, what's wrong?" He knelt before me, my eyes meeting his.

"I, uh, um." Tell him. Tell him everything. I couldn't stand to be stuck in this lie of a relationship. "I can't wait to get to Paris." I forced a smile. "I'm so excited. I always wanted to go."

Tyson raised an eyebrow. "That didn't look like excitement to me, Marci."

"I'm sorry. I'm just so excited that I can't contain myself. It's making me incoherent." I nodded wildly. Even my mind screamed at me for being such a coward.

***

Paris. I watched as the lights rushed by the window of the limousine. Again, I smooshed my face into the glass in wonder.

"Margaret always loved Paris. We visited it once a year, and she knew the place like the back of her hand," Tyson said. After my freak out, I ran to my personal cabin. I sobbed into pillows, and did my best to clean myself up to make sure it didn't look like I was crying. A night of flight, a night of rest calmed me down a bit. Even with all that time with him so close, I made no headway in telling him how I truly feel. "Perhaps you'll learn to love it too."

"Yeah, maybe," I said. I turned my eyes back to the lights we were passing, my enthusiasm drained. Hearing him speak about his wife killed any desire to play my part as ditzy easily distracted girl. Every time I thought about Margaret, I was reminded about how inferior I was. How I couldn't possibly be her replacement, no matter how hard Tyson pretended.

The limousine arrived at the local high class restaurant that people needed to reserve about a decade or two in advance. Unless, of course, there's money involved. Money is literally magic and Tyson just had to say a few words to the man at the door and he was let in. We followed the waiter to a fancy table, a beautiful chandelier hanging over head. Live music played, but I couldn't tell what it was. It had violins, bigger violins, and the violins people had to stand up to play. There were people with trumpets and other trumpet like things standing around, but they weren't actively playing.

"Ah, some big band stuff. She used to love this so much."

"Uh huh." I nodded. It was white noise to me. We sat across from one another. I didn't hold eye contact with him.

I was handed a menu which was printed on excessively fine paper. I tried to read it, but I couldn't make heads or tales of it. Le? La?

Pressing a finger on what I was trying to read, I vocally tried to sound it out. "En? Tro? Cot? Tee?"

"Ah, sorry. I forgot. You don't speak French. Margaret was fully fluent."

My eyes hit the floor away from him. Yeah, Tyson, I'm not as smart as her.

"I'll order something for you. Something that used to be her favorite." He took the menu away from me.

"You know I'm a vegetarian, right," I said. I still didn't look at him as I spoke.

"Yes. So was Margaret, mostly. Meat was a special occasion food for her."

I didn't protest any further. More cold silence. Our eyes barely met. It was as if he was avoiding mine as much as I did his. My freak out on the plane made him pay attention. He had concern for me, but beyond that, he didn't want to face me as much as I didn't want to face him.

The food came. My tongue told me it was exquisite whatever it was that was in front of me. Delicious, but I couldn't really enjoy it. Or the wine that came along with it. Apparently it's fine for me to drink wine here before twenty-one. Not that I couldn't have it anyway. Money is magic and makes such minor laws disappear.

As we finished our food, he offered me his hand. "Come, Marci. Follow, I have something I want to show you that you are sure to enjoy. You seem to enjoy the sights and views a great deal." I smiled. He actually noticed something I liked. He was paying attention to Marci, not Margaret minus ten years. "Margaret did too." The smile faded and my gaze hit the ground again.

Back into the limousine, we drove toward the thing in the distance. The first thing anyone associates with Paris. The Eiffel Tower. I never had thought I would see it in person. Chivalrous, he guided me out of the limo, and stood by as I gazed up in wonder at the structure.

"Would you like to go on top of it?" Ear to ear grin as I turned to face his own face.

"Uh huh." I nodded enthusiastically. If even for a moment, the marvels distracted me.

A guide to the elevator, more nods, more slight of hand with a different shade of paper this time than he usually had. Alone, we rode the elevator to the top. A long ride, the silence between us was deafening. My mind was still calling upon myself to talk to him. To spill my heart.

Damn the consequences, Marci. Just do it.

It wasn't going to happen.

Stepping out of the elevator, we emerged at the top level of the tower. Tyson stepped out first, and I followed him, gazing out onto the amazing sights that were below me.

"The very top levels of the tower are typically not available for public use. That is, of course, unless you pay the right people the right fees."

It was beautiful, my hands on the railing over the city. I could stare at this marvel for hours. Every detail below me helped silence the loud thoughts inside me.

Tyson, though, had other ideas besides viewing the scenery. From behind, his heavy hands wrapped around my waist and he began to pull down and undo the sash underneath, letting the bottom part of my dress fall loose.

"This is a majesty I wish everyone could truly enjoy. So many memories made here."

"Uh huh." I was too captivated by the sights. His warm fingers rubbing over my abdomen, though, were catching my attention quickly.

"Shall we, my young beauty? Make beautiful love as we enjoy this view? Conceive our child somewhere memorable?"

The looser fabrics gave him free reign to touch me, him molding the silken fabric over my breasts, tickling me. The tingly and wonderful sensations, I felt my sex start to stir with passion. I wanted him to take me now, right on top of this world marvel. For it to be something I'd never forget. I nodded blankly. "Uh huh."

"So many memories here. This is where I proposed to her."

It all came crashing down inside of me. Am I just going to sit here and forever accept my place as a dead woman's stand in? A comfort object for a grieving man to use to make the family he felt robbed of?

You'll lose everything. All because you want him for yourself.

His hands roamed down toward my pussy. It ached for him so much, wanting his touch. I hated that my hands had to close around it and pull it away. "No," I said.

"Hmm?"

"No. I can't do this anymore, Tyson." A tear formed and rolled down my cheek.

"What's the matter?" He didn't break his grasp on me.

I wrestled myself away from him, only our hands remained together. "I'm, I'm - I'm not -"

"You're not...?" He paused, waiting for me to finish.

My stomach churned. I had the courage to stop him, but the courage to spill it out wholly was harder to come by. Deep down though, I managed to find it. More tears began to follow as I spoke. "I'm not Margaret."

"Marci?" His eyes opened wide as he never took his gaze off of me.

"I'm not! I'm not as smart as her! I'm not as pretty as her! I'm not her! I'm not Margaret, Tyson. I'm not your wife."

He took a deep breath, his eyes shooting away from mine.

"I can't replace her. I'm Marci. My only work experience is as a babysitter. I'm a nineteen-year-old girl from nothing. My mother worked two jobs to make sure we didn't starve. I didn't go to some stupid ridiculous high class school. My highest ambition wasn't to conquer the financial world with my husband. No, my dream was to become a kindergarten teacher. I wanted to work with small children. That's all I wanted to do with my life, Tyson."

Thicker tears formed as I sobbed. He kept his face turned, but I saw the pain in his face as clear as day.

"I'm not Margaret. I never will be. No matter how much you try. No matter how much you try to make me like the things she likes, dress like her, take me places she loved. Nothing can change the fact that I'm just not her."

I fell to my knees, and buried my hands in my face. Silence followed for a time. I pulled my gaze up to him.

"I think you're wonderful. You're so kind, I love the things you do to me. I think I'm in love with you, I've told you this. I might just be a foolish teenaged girl. I want to be with you. But I need to know."

He face turned to mine, question on his face.

"I need to know if you can see Marci when you see me. Or if all you'll ever see is someone that I can't possibly be. If I can't be Marci to you - I. I uh."

My entire body was trembling in fear.

"Don't want to be with you anymore. I don't want to hope for a future that isn't there anymore. I don't care about money. Just, all the pain I feel from the uncertainty is too much."

I sat in silence, as did he.

I pulled myself to my feet, turning to look over the city again. "I know. It's hard to get over your wife. I want to help you. But not as her. As me."

"Marci." He placed a hand on my shoulder, and turned me to face him. Tears still flowed from my eyes, and he laid my face on his breast, holding me close.

"So sorry that I've made you feel this way. Yes, it's hard dealing with her memory. Yes, I think I've been seeing you as her too much. I just - just thought it was fate that presented you to me in my moment of weakness." His fingers combed through my hair. He was fighting tears.

I hugged him right back.

Tyson kept speaking through it all. "I'm so sorry. You're right. You're your own person, my young beauty. I should treat you as such, and I shouldn't be letting myself stew in the past. I should move on, and forget."

"You - you shouldn't do that. You love her," I said. To suggest he forget someone he spent so much time with made me feel like a monster. "No, I don't mean that, Tyson."

"I know you're right. I couldn't if I tried to. Marci, thank you. I was being a fool. A horrible grief stricken fool." He lifted my chin and planted a kiss right on my lips. There was something different about this kiss. It was still a kiss, it still had passion, but it was as if it were the first time. The first time he was kissing me as me. The kiss broke with his small smile. "You are here now. Is there anything else you wish to change about our arrangement? I want you to be more than just a teenaged girl who takes care of my son. I still want you to be the mother of my children."

His finger caressed my face lightly. Our eyes met. The tears started to dry up. I was in his hands, and it all seemed a lot more okay.

"Do you not wish to carry my child anymore, Marci?"

His body heat radiated against mine. The passion of his touch before my outburst still radiated inside of me. He was asking me, putting me in control. I had a chance to walk away from this. I knew more than anything he was an honorable man, if he asked me a question and I said no, he would push no further.

"I can understand it. You're young. It's a lot to put on a girl like you."

My eyes closed and I took a deep breath. He was a man who wanted love so much and couldn't stand to have such a void in his life. I wanted him to love me, so much. If he were still willing after seeing Marci, not Margaret, my hope, that one year would become forever, was still alive. That I wasn't just a naive babysitter he wouldn't want to breed and then throw away.

I nodded. "I want to be yours. Make me yours. Please, Tyson, please." His hand stroked down my hair, a gentle breeze washing over the two of us. The fingers continued their journey down to the straps of my dress, continuing the job he started before I finally told him how I truly felt. The dress fell to the ground, and his hands caressed the fine undergarments that were tailored fit to me.