The Billionaire's Call Girl: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (12 page)

Mariah raised one eyebrow and looked at Felicia carefully. "Do you love him?" she asked as the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile.

Felicia nodded. "I do. I haven't really told him yet, either, though."

Mariah shrugged. "Don't worry, it'll happen for both of you. He is head over heels for you, my dear. More than I have ever seen him love any other woman, including me."

Felicia looked and felt horrified for a moment, but Mariah patted her hand and laughed."Don't you worry about that. That is a good thing. I couldn't be happier for you both."

If someone had told Felicia that she was going to find a new friend in Mariah Johnson, she would have thought they were insane. But there they were, the two of them, talking about life and family and Jake as if they had been friends for a while, as if Jake wasn't married to Mariah, but to Felicia. It was the strangest conversation ever.

What neither one of the women realized was that it was not a private conversation.

Chapter7

Isaac Roberts had become a regular patron at the little cafe down the street from the hotel when he happened to see Jake and Felicia walking out of a private screening of a hot new movie release.

He had been at the theatre to write a review of the movie and when he'd seen Jake Johnson, he had recognized him immediately. The tall, beautiful black woman at his side was a mystery, and Jake was holding her hand. Before he could grab his camera, the couple vanished into a limousine, and, while Isaac might not have been fast enough to grab his camera, he had been fast enough to hop into his car and follow them to the hotel down the street, watching them as they slipped inside.

His camera was ready then, but the hotel staff and the limo driver had blocked them, and he hadn't gotten a clear shot. The photographs he took were no good because no one in them could be identified. He made up his mind right then and there that if he was ever going to get out of writing movie reviews and get into real journalism, this was the story he needed to break.

He had planted himself just down the street from the hotel, hidden in different cars, sitting there for hours and hours on end, just praying to get the one shot he needed to show that Jake was having an affair on his wife and blow the story sky high.

For all of his hard work and time sacrificed waiting outside, all he ever got was shots of Felicia, but never of them together. It was certainly not the shot he had hoped for, the one that would get his real career going. He wanted something that would launch him out of the movie review pit he’d been stuck in for so long.

Since he didn't see Jake at the hotel that often, he began to follow Felicia, hoping to catch her meeting up with Jake. Most of the time he followed her to school, to her family's house further out of the center of town, or on shopping excursions, which he loathed. Nothing was worse for him than sitting in a shopping center, a mall, or a store parking lot waiting for her to come out.

His boss told him to find another story, but he had become obsessed with breaking this one. He was adamant about making this one the story that set fire to his career. Now, every day he camped out in the little cafe, waiting and watching.

He was there that morning, sipping his coffee and waiting, knowing that she would come in at some point, and, as he sat there waiting, he saw none other than Mariah Johnson stepping out of her limousine and walking into the hotel. He almost had a stroke thinking of the story that lay ahead.

He fully expected that she found out about the little mistress and, at any moment, some of them or all of them would come tumbling out of the hotel in pieces.  He begged to the Gods of Journalism to be able to photograph a glorious cat fight. Getting shots of Felicia with Jake was one hot thing, but getting catfight shots of the wife and the mistress in the street was another thing entirely and it had gone to his head in moments.

Isaac even imagined himself winning a Pulitzer for it. He waited, cameras and video recorders at the ready; he was going to pounce on them. The only thing that happened was Jake coming out, alone, getting into his limo and driving away. Stay with the scene, Isaac told himself, waiting for the real action when the furious women would boil out onto the street.

Nothing could have surprised him more at that point than to see Felicia and Mariah walking out of the hotel as amiable as you please, heading straight for him. He knew something was up and he glanced at all of the tables around the cafe; most of them were empty, but there was one in the corner, more secluded from the rest, and he'd be willing to bet his exorbitantly priced Nikon that they would take that table if they stayed.

It was a gamble, but he took the table nearest them, sitting at such an angle that he could record them both without any problem at all. The women sat down right where he hoped and his gamble had paid off ten times bigger than he ever imagined. He started recording their conversation on video from the moment they sat together and it was all he could do not to jump up from his chair as he learned the truth about what was really going on.

Isaac could taste that Pulitzer; it was so close.

He sat there sipping his coffee and recording every single second of it, even when they stopped talking about the intimate details of Jake's pseudo marriage to Mariah and Mariah's search to find a lover for Jake. It was better than candy wrapped in real gold. He couldn't have dreamed of a better story. He recorded the whole thing, sipping his coffee and pretending to read the same page of the newspaper for forty-five solid minutes.

When the women got up and left he flew to his car and rushed back to his office, calling his editor, Bissey, on the way.

"Stop the presses!" he yelled into the phone, using the old saying.

"Roberts, what the hell are you calling me for? I'm right in the middle of a meeting with the Mayor's press-" his boss was blathering on, but Isaac interrupted him.

"I got it,” he said, grinning madly as he drove like a wild man toward the office.

Bissey was quiet for a second. "You got
what
, exactly?"

Isaac had waited a long time to say something this cool to his editor who was never impressed with anything, ever.

"I got a video of Mariah Johnson talking to her husband's mistress in a coffee shop, and they spilled all of the beans.
All
of them. Their whole life story is on this video."

Isaac didn't want to give too much away, he wanted to relish every single second of this triumph.

There was silence for a split second on the other end of the line and then his editor started yelling. "Get your ass in here! Get that video up yesterday! What the hell are you waiting for?"

He could hear Bissey covering the mouthpiece with his hand. "Hank! Get that damn video editing program fired up and ready, Roberts has a hot one coming in! Mal, get on the phone to all the stations, including the big ones, and tell them we've got a story to sell!

Five hundred thousand and they can live simulcast with a seven-second delay! Get on it! Now!" he hollered.

Isaac was grinning like a fool. He could hear all of it, even though the mouthpiece was partially covered. He'd be at the office in less than three minutes, but he still wanted to hear everything.

Bissey came back on the line. "Roberts!" he yelled.

Isaac laughed deep in his chest. "Yeah, boss?"

"I swear to the Almighty, if you're pulling one over on-" Bissey threatened him all the time. If Bissey followed through on his threats, Isaac would have be in little pieces at the bottom of a cave in the darkest part of Mexico and would never see the light of day again.

"It's the real deal, Bissey. I'd be willing to bet my next paycheck that you actually crack a real life smile when you see this one, and when I win my Pulitzer, I might even remember to thank you." Isaac cackled and laughed, standing on the gas pedal and twisting the steering wheel around.

"Go to hell, Roberts, but get your ass in here first and bring me that video!" Bissey yelled and then hung up his phone with a bang.

Minutes later, Isaac came dashing into the pressroom, his heavy belly hanging over his belt as he gasped and laughed in between coughing fits.

"Hank! Hank where the hell are you?" he called out. A tall, thin man who might have disappeared altogether if he had turned sideways, popped up like a prairie dog from his cubicle.

"I'm here! I'm ready for you. Bring me the video!" he called out.

Mal came out of nowhere and took a spot directly behind Hank while Isaac dragged a chair over and plopped himself down on it.

Bissey came flying out of his office, red faced and blustering. "Where in the hell have you been? I want this on the air in ten minutes! I want this sold to every single form of media that we-" he stopped talking as the video began to play.

"Nice shooting." Hank whispered as the forms of the ladies sat down and their audio came out loud and clear over the din of the cafe. Hank began to work through his editing program, removing static and background noise, adjusting volume and marking places in the video that he wanted to keep.

All of them watched it in silence, staring at it as it played out, but the second it was done, Bissey was yelling at them again. "Well? What the hell are all of you doing sitting around here? Mal! Get on the phone and go sell that video! It plays live in five! Hank! Get the damn thing edited now!"

"I'm on it, boss!" he muttered as his fingers flew over his keyboard and his mouse zipped around the screen.

Bissey turned on his heel and glared down at Isaac.

"Roberts! You lost your bet. I didn't crack a smile, but it's not going to cost you your next paycheck, because that was damn fine piece of journalism. Well done."

Everyone in the room turned and gaped at Bissey, who leaned close to Isaac.

"Now go get your ass on the phone and get some statements from the Johnson family and that girlfriend of Jake's! GO!"

Isaac's feet didn't even touch the floor as he ran to his desk and grabbed his phone. He was ready for just such an occasion as this one, and he had the Johnson press people on speed dial. He dug as deep as he could and just couldn't get Jake or Mariah's personal phone numbers, but he was one level down from them, and he had their press people in his hand, ready to go.

He was dialing the number when Hank yelled out, "Done! I'm done! Let's get it on the air!"

Bissey was standing in the middle of the room, waving his arms and shouting orders at his team.

Isaac grinned and rubbed his fingers over the back of his neck as the phone he held against his ear began to ring.

"Johnson Incorporated. Public Relations, may I help you?" came the answer.

He grinned for the thousandth time in half an hour. "Yeah, this is Isaac Roberts at the
Times
. I just wanted to know if I could get a statement from the Johnson family about the video that's airing right now in which Mrs. Johnson is talking to Mr. Johnson's mistress."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment and then the lady on the other line spoke indignantly to him.

"There is no such video out, and you need to stop calling us, Mr. Roberts, or we may be forced to resort to legal action against you for-" she stopped suddenly as someone near her began talking to her.

Isaac could her his video playing in the background behind them and he chuckled to himself.

"Miss? If I could get a statement from the family, please?" he asked hopefully.

The young woman stammered for a moment and then said, "I'll have them get back to you, Mr. Roberts."  She hung up the phone and the entire world stared in horror as the truth about one of the country's favorite couples came to air in the public eye.

*

Jake rushed into the hospital and up to the floor where Christopher was. The doctor saw him coming and met him in the hall.

"Doctor! How is he? How are things going for him? Is his fever gone?" Jake asked fervently.

The doctor raised his hand and set it on Jake's shoulder to calm him down. "He's resting quite comfortably right now. There hasn't been any change since your wife was here. He still has a very high fever and we are monitoring that. When his fever drops a few more degrees and both you and your wife are here, we will operate on him. Speaking of which, is she here?" the doctor asked, looking around for Mariah.

Jake shook his head. "No, she had some business to take care of. I'm here, though, and she will be back again soon. What can we do to help you?" Jake asked in desperation.

The doctor tilted his head. "Well, we need some blood donated by one of his parents for the surgery; just in case it's needed. If it isn't used, we contribute it to the blood donor bank. Your wife was going to contribute it, but then she rushed out of here to get you when she couldn't get reach you on your phone. Are you interested in donating it for him?" the doctor asked hopefully.