The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (11 page)

"I'm sorry about this!"

I turn my back and march out of the restaurant. The crowd buzzes around me. A few are reporters. A few are curious hangers-on. There are more questions but they're all a blur.
Kat, Blake, money, love.
It's all one big mix of that.

Money and love are the only two things people care about. Trading one for the other. Faking one for the other. It would make a great tabloid story. At least their instincts are on base.

I pick up the pace until I'm running. For ten blocks, I run and I don't look back. The city blurs around me. The chatter turns into white noise. People scream
watch it
as I whir past them. They turn to look at the strange woman running in black jeans and a white oxford shirt, like none of them have ever been late before.

I don't stop until I'm at Bryant Park. It's busy. Always busy around lunch. Sometimes, I stop here in the late afternoon, and there's a certain quiet to the park.

Signs of spring abound. The grass is a soft shade of green. Most of the trees are spouting leaves. Flowers are peeking out of planters. It's warm today. Well, warmer.

I take a seat on the grass. It's damp, but it's not like I'm going to wear these clothes again anytime soon. Shana was right. I don't need the money right now. I'm not happy relying entirely on Blake, but that money is freedom. That money is security.

It should be easy. I sign a prenup. Anything close to fair will be a fortune. I marry him. His mother dies. We divorce. I walk away with all the money I need to start a new life somewhere else.

I cringe. I don't want to be somewhere else. New York City is my home. I was born here. I've lived here my whole life. The city is amazing and intoxicating. There are little bursts of green between the massive buildings. There is life on every street. The neighborhoods are so different.

Once upon a time, before the accident, I would spend weekends exploring the city with my friends. It was exciting just to get out of Brooklyn.

It felt like there was an adventure waiting around every corner. The last three years, I've been sorely lacking adventure. I work, I read, I play video games with Lizzy. Whatever happened to what I wanted to do? When I was seventeen, my life was wide open with possibilities. Art school to turn my doodling hobby into a career. A state university to study something practical. English or business, maybe. My best friend, Belle, asked me to take a gap year to travel Europe with her.

It was such an exciting thought. The two of us zipping around Europe, taking in the sights, flirting with different guys in every country. After the accident, all that went out the window. Everything I wanted or needed went out the window. Taking care of Lizzy and keeping us afloat came first.

What the hell am I going to do with myself now that I'm not giving all my attention to paying the bills? A chill passes over me, and I pull my coat a little tighter. I've ignored my hobbies, my friends, everything. There might be nothing left. When you strip away the girl desperate to get by, there might not be a Kat.

There might not be anything to me, not really.

I close my eyes and try my best to recall a typical week before the accident. School. Homework. I ran cross-country in the fall. I loved losing myself in a long run as the city whizzed by me.

I haven't gone for a run in three years. No reason. It feels like I'm running all the time, only I'm not going anywhere or racing against anything.

I used to draw. Not the way I do now—I used to draw every night for hours. I loved it. I annoyed the hell out of my friends asking them to pose as my models. In high school, I took every art elective I could. I was utterly indiscriminate. My parents discouraged art school. Wouldn't pay the bills. But the bills won't need paying soon. I can go to school, get a master’s, take a job I love that pays crap. I can ask Belle to give me another chance and pay for a year in Europe.

This money is options.

This money is freedom.

This money is security.

However hard this is, I have to deal with it. Not just for me, but for Lizzy. We've lost too much to lose this opportunity.

I spend the rest of the afternoon loading up on art books and supplies. The smell of sharpened pencils recalls so many nights spent drawing. I buy one of everything in every color. Markers, ink pens, pastels, watercolors, graphite pencils, acrylics, oils, canvases. Being in the store makes me dizzy. Something about it feels so right.

A call from Blake interrupts my bliss. When I answer, he's all business.

"We're meeting my family tomorrow. I'll send a car to your apartment at four-thirty," he says.

A surge of irritation passes through me. He could ask. He could pretend like he cares that I have my own priorities.

"You're supposed to meet my sister," I say.

"Don't subject her to mine."

Deep breath. I have to push back to get what I want from Blake. "Then meet her tonight. Come over for dinner."

"I'm entertaining a friend."

Since when does Blake have friends? I bite my lip. No backing down now. "Bring him."

"I'll make reservations for four. Eight o'clock. I'll send a car to pick you up at seven-thirty."

His voice softens "Fine."

"I'll see you then." I hang up the phone without a proper goodbye.

Blake make think he owns my time, but he doesn't. It's still mine.

I push my irritation aside. I'm going to have a life again. Whatever that costs, it's worth it.

***

Lizzy is not impressed by the car service. She sits with her arms folded over her chest, her eyes on the window.

"I wanted to go out with Sarah after dinner," she says.

"You still can."

She looks at me as if to say
yeah right
. "This is going to take hours."

"It will be better than anything I can cook."

Lizzy smirks. "True."

The car stops in front of the restaurant, and the driver helps us out. Lizzy doesn't even stumble in her heels. And she had several very tight dresses in her closet. Where the hell do her and Sarah go on their usual Friday nights?

I bite my tongue. Can't seem overprotective and uncool. She's an adult, and she can go to all-ages clubs if she wants.

"You think I'll get carded here?" She asks.

Oh, hell no. I shoot her a death glare. "That's not funny. Alcohol is dangerous. It can kill you."

She shrinks back, shakes her head, and moves backwards towards the restaurant. "I'm only kidding." She waves at the driver. "Thank you."

I do the same. "Thanks." I take out my anxiety on my purse straps. "Don't joke about that, okay? It's not funny."

"Okay."

I follow her inside. The restaurant is dark. Most of the light is front candles in the middle of the tables.

I nod hello to the hostess. "Kat Wilder. I'm meeting—"

"Of course, Ms. Wilder. Your party is in a private room." She grabs two menus and leads us upstairs through a set of double doors.

The room is impressive—a table big enough for eight people and tall windows that let in the dark blue evening light. Blake is sitting opposite Declan, the guy I met at the company party. That must be the friend. I guess he's visiting.

Blake stands. "We're fine, Cindy. Thank you." He takes the menus from the hostess.

She nods and disappears through the double doors.

He offers Lizzy his hand. "Blake Sterling. You must be Lizzy."

"Yeah." She shakes his hand. "It's nice to meet you. About time, really, with you engaged to my sister." She raises her eyebrow.

"I agree." Blake motions to Declan. "Declan Jones. Too much of an ass to introduce himself, apparently."

Declan makes his way to Lizzy and offers his hand to shake. "Nice to meet you." He motions to me. "And nice to see you again, Kat. It's rare Blake wants to introduce me to anyone for personal reasons. I can't say I'm used to it."

Lizzy laughs. "Yeah, Kat either."

Lizzy and Declan share a knowing look at our expense. A good sign. Hopefully.

"I almost had a heart attack when Blake asked me to change our plans," Declan says.

"They get the point." Blake pulls out my chair for me.

I sit. "Have you ever met one of Blake's girlfriends?"

"Blake has never had a girlfriend." Declan shoots Blake a wink. "Maybe not even a girl-space-friend. You should have seen him in college. He was eighteen or nineteen by the time I met him. Not as handsome as I am, but not bad."

Everyone sits as Declan continues his story. Lizzy even stares at him with rapt attention.

"The girls went crazy for him. He was something of a legend with his company in the works, and he had a reputation for being untouchable. There was this ongoing bet—it must have been at least ten or twenty women in our lit class—who could seduce Blake first. They would come up to him with these gaga eyes and make the most obvious come-ons, and he would shake his head
I'm busy
and go right back to programming."

Blake's cheeks flush red. He's embarrassed. God, I never thought I'd see him embarrassed again.

"That's not quite accurate," Blake says. "But it's not appropriate dinner conversation."

"He wants you to know he got plenty of tail when he wanted it," Declan says.

Blake motions to me as if to say
hello, that's my fiancée
. Declan shrugs like it's no big deal.

Lizzy laughs. "Kat is the same way. She's shocked when guys flirt with her. She insists they're only being friendly. Cause New Yorkers are usually
so
friendly."

"When has anyone ever flirted with me?" I ask.

"How about the waiter at the brunch place—"

"That's server to server solidarity."

"He gives you free drinks."

"Still."

Lizzy shakes her head. "Flirting."

She and Declan share another knowing look. They suppress a few giggles.

It was not flirting. I know flirting. And this look going between my sister and Blake's player friend. This is flirting.

I swallow hard. Can't be over protective. My sister is old enough to flirt with guys. And it's only flirting. It's not like she's going to sleep with him tonight.

No way in hell.

There's a knock on the door. A waiter steps inside and takes our drink order. Lizzy sticks with her usual Diet Coke. She doesn't even make a snide remark about how she could order a cocktail if she really wanted.

I relax into my seat. Like this is a normal dinner.

Blake turns his attention to Lizzy. "Kat tells me you're a programmer."

"Nothing of your caliber, but, yes," she says.

"What languages?" Blake asks.

"Woah, we're not talking work at dinner," Declan says.

Lizzy blushes. "Java and Python mostly. I'm learning C++."

Blake leans to pick something up. He unzips a bag, pulls out a laptop, and brandishes it like it's an amazing piece of art. "You want to see any of the Sterling Tech code?"

Her eyes go wide. "Uh, yeah. I mean, if you're sure that's okay."

"We'll call it a family secret."

She nearly jumps out of her chair and kneels next to the laptop. "The chat bot has always been my favorite thing."

"Kat told me you're interested in A.I."

She nods. Her attention is rapt as Blake boots up the computer and navigates through a bunch of security. I know the code is on the screen from Lizzy's loud sigh. She's in heaven.

I look to Declan for consolation. "Are you a programmer, too?"

"Software engineer and CEO."

Blake clears his throat. "His first two start-ups went bankrupt."

"Technicalities." Declan smiles. "This one is doing well."

Lizzy is still in her own world, staring at the screen with every ounce of her attention. I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable. I wouldn't have guessed that I'd be the one out of place. The no education, no future girl in a room full of people with skills.

Blake offers his hand. I squeeze it tightly, and the knot in my stomach dissipates. There is something soothing about him.

I have to get used to being outclassed.

The waiter arrives with our drinks. I take a long, long sip of my gin and tonic. This is going to be a long night.

***

Programming talk slows to a minimum. Blake offers Lizzy an internship for next summer. Declan matches the offer. It takes everything I have not to throw my drink on the floor and scream
no way in hell is my sister working with a flirting player,
but I manage to keep my mouth shut. The guy is nice. Flirting isn't a crime.

And it doesn't stop. Lizzy and Declan take turns sharing stories that make fun of Blake and me, respectively. I focus on my drink and my food. The point of this dinner is to get Lizzy on board. That's all that matters.

After dinner, I make an excuse to leave. Lizzy's attitude shifts once we're alone. No more high from coding secrets—just as likely it's from Diet Coke.

She looks at me with concern. "I can see why you like him." She takes a slow breath. "But you have to be careful. He'll rip your heart out like it's nothing."

I nod like it's news. Like I'm not painfully aware that Blake will tear me to pieces and toss me aside.

Chapter Ten

Blake's apartment is empty. The sun is still bright enough to illuminate the den. It's even more grey like this. Sleek, yes. Masculine, yes. Homey, no way in hell.

It doesn't even look like someone lives here. Everything is perfectly clean and organized. No stray coffee cups on the table. No spoons in the sink. Not a pillow out of place on the couch. Well, not a pillow on the couch at all.

I fish my new sketchpad out of my purse. It's a small thing, only big enough for little doodles. I take a seat and draw the view. The light falls over the park softly. From here, I can see clear across the park, all the way to the East Side. All the way up to Harlem and down to, well, Downtown.

In my drawing, the buildings across the park start as rectangles. I add detail—the shadows, the windows, the satellite dishes on the roofs—until they start to resemble themselves.

The door opens. Damn, Blake, breaking my concentration again.