Chapter Forty
Ethan
"Smile for the camera," someone said. I put my arm around Kayla and I stared into the lens with my best grin as she smiled radiantly beside me. The view of the ocean was behind us, with the sun starting to set on the horizon, creating a stunning background for the perfect picture.
"Perfect, thanks." The photographer looked at the image on his digital camera, and nodded with satisfaction. "This will be the new cover of Speed Magazine."
"I don't think so. I'm not the model; my wife is." I swiped at him, trying to grab the camera, but he moved just out of my reach.
Joey was one of Kayla's favorite photographers and followed her everywhere. She was as used to having her picture taken as she was breathing air, but I found it a little harder to get used to.
"That's what makes this perfect," Joey said in response to my objection. "The owner and CEO of the company Ethan Colson celebrating his one-year anniversary with the love of his life, supermodel Kayla Brandt-Colson. The two of you are one of the world's hottest couples and the media will eat it up.
“People will be clamoring to read next month's issue of Speed Magazine when they see this image of you and Kayla cheek to cheek on the cover. Now give me one more shot, this time of the two of you kissing."
"No way; our intimate personal time is private. No photography. Now get out of here before I'm forced to fire you and take your camera," I shouted out, but there was no anger in my voice, just love for my wife.
Joey was right; the public craved images of us together, and since we kept our private life well-guarded, images of us as a couple were rare, making them even more sought after. We had a contract with Joey that we would buy any photographs he took that we didn't want to go public. It kept him loyal to us and gave us control of all photos seen by the public.
"How do you deal with having your picture taking all day? It's exhausting," I said to Kayla as I leaned back into a reclining chair on the beach and a waiter brought us each fresh drinks.
"It can be, but that's why I'm careful to book plenty of relaxation time between photo shoots." She grinned at me, and her smile was even more radiant than it had been a moment ago.
Being with just one woman made her even sexier to me than a string of one-night stands. I knew Kayla's body better than anyone and could make her orgasm with just a touch. Nothing could be hotter, and as impossible as it was, I swear her breasts seemed to have gotten even bigger and her hips were definitely rounder. She was becoming softer and more voluptuous, and I wanted to make love to her constantly, and she responded to my touch with the same passionate desire. A full year into our marriage, and we were still fucking like newlyweds.
"What do you want to do for our anniversary tonight?" I asked her. "The sky's the limit."
"Well, you've already brought me here to this tropical island. We're staying in our own private bungalow right on the beach, and this morning, we made love under a waterfall in that secluded lake we found hidden in the jungle. We were serenaded by parrots and wild birds, and then served this fantastic lunch of fish caught fresh from the ocean this morning. What more could a girl want?"
"There has to be something special you want to do," I insisted. "You worked so hard last month, I only saw you a few days. You're becoming as bad of a workaholic as I used to be. I want to make sure you don't forget how to relax and have fun."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I plan on taking lots of time off very shortly. We'll spend days hanging out in the park, taking long walks, and just enjoying life."
"So, why were you working so much? I know that the year we were engaged, your modeling career far surpassed just being the ad-campaign girl for Speed Motorcycles. Within months of our engagement, you were being asked to model for the covers of major magazines and posed for some of the top companies in the country.
“Major corporations would fly you around the world, and offered you huge salaries, to pose with their products or to put your face on their magazine ads. Your rise to fame was unprecedented."
"That still drives you crazy," she teased me, and I leaned over from to chair to swat her ass playfully in mock aggravation. She raised up her ripe buttocks, allowing me to make contact with her round cheek, and when it vibrated under the impact of my palm, we both felt a thrill.
"No, it doesn't. I'm secure enough in my manhood to let my wife thrive. Besides, I'm proud of you."
"So why are you going on about it?" she taunted, making me grin. She'd gotten up from her beach recliner and straddled me on mine so she could tickle my chest with her manicured fingernails.
I put my hands on her waist and slid them up her pale body to cup her breasts. Fondling them gently, I said to her, "Because, you've been able to set your own demands and work schedule for almost two years straight now. You've always been really good about keeping your work schedule within reason so we'd have enough time to spend together. Having you out on photoshoots all day, every day for nearly a month was tougher on me than I'd like to admit."
"Sorry, but I needed to get in as much work as I could before my body starts to change and I can't model anymore. This last month may mark the end of my career for quite a long time."
"What are you talking about? Is this because you’re getting older? Don't worry, sweetheart. The shelf life of a model is short, but it's not that short. You still have plenty of years left to enjoy your career."
"Oh, I know that. But if I lose my skinny body, then I won't be as marketable. Besides, I don't think I'll want to work anymore, at least not for a few years. I think I'll want to stay at home, like my mother did."
"Don't tell me you’re burnt out on your career already? You've only been doing it a few years and you act like you really love it. Some days when you come home from work, you're smiling so big, I wonder if I shouldn't be jealous that you love your career more than you love me."
It was a joke and she giggled. Tickling my chest again, she said with a smile, "Don't worry, I don't love anything more than you. It's just that I'm pregnant."
"What?" I sat up straight so suddenly, I nearly knocked her off my lap. "I don't think I heard you right. Say that again."
"I'm pregnant." She was absolutely beaming as she smiled at me. I'd never seen her looking more radiantly beautiful.
"Are you sure? I thought you were on the pill." I gaped like a moron.
"I was, but it's not a hundred percent effective. I went to see my doctor when I had the flu last month, and she told me that it was morning sickness. I was six-weeks pregnant."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I was still in shock and didn't know how to feel.
"Because I knew you would worry and make me quit my job."
"Damn right, I would. You can't be on your feet all day in harsh weather conditions with nothing on but a bikini, keeping your weight down by starving yourself. My baby needs good nutrition, and his mother needs to pamper herself and relax." I was instantly protective and felt a glow in my heart I knew was pride and pure love.
"So, I told my agent, and he got my clients to compact their photo shoots into a one-month period of time. I was able to complete all the work I had committed to for the rest of the season in just four, short weeks, and now I'm officially on hiatus. I won't be accepting any new modeling jobs until after the baby is born, and maybe not at all."
"You're really doing this?" I could hardly believe how rapidly our lives had changed, and she nodded her head. I could see from the smile in her eyes and the glow in her cheeks that she was really happy, and I was, too.
Just over two, short years ago, I'd thought I was living the dream life with my secretary blowing me under my mahogany desk in my billion-dollar company offices, but I'd never been more wrong.
True happiness wasn't money, empty affairs, or even success. True happiness was this right here: having found someone you love who loves you, too, and turning that passion into a baby to raise and love together.
As I kissed Kayla with the tropical beach behind us and felt the love we had for each other envelop us, I knew that at long last, I had healed the wounds of my youth and was truly living the dream every man wanted, and I was going to enjoy every moment of it.
INVESTIGATED BILLIONAIRE
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
PART 1
Chapter One
Delilah
“So what exactly are we supposed to do at one of these things?”
“Mattie, it’s an art show. We are supposed to look at the art.” I tried not to roll my eyes at my best friend.
I loved coming to art shows and had been doing it for years as a kind of release. Sometimes, I thought I could have been an amazing artist myself, and other times, I just enjoyed looking at the hard work the artists had put together. It was a way of relaxing for me, and luckily, I’d been able to convince my friend Mattie to tag along this time, even if she didn’t like art all that much.
“You’ll have to excuse Mattie; she’s not as cultured as the rest of us,” Mattie’s boyfriend, Markus, said as he obnoxiously held his pinky out while sipping on his rum and Coke.
“Come on, guys; this is a great place for me to recruit people for Dating the Rich. You know we have that huge summer bonus going on right now, and I could really use that extra cash. Plus, these paintings are amazing. Can you even imagine how much time and effort goes into making one of these?”
“Delilah Hunter, are you using us to help you get more referral bonuses for work?”
“Yes, Mattie, and you get free alcohol and an evening of class and art. You know you can get the bonus referrals, too, if you would just grab some of the cards when human resources is handing them out.”
“Barf. I have to talk to people enough on the phone all day. I don’t want to do it outside of work, too.”
“Come on, it’s not that bad. Look at that painting over there; it has beautiful colors. Don’t you think?”
It was terribly hard to get Mattie to go to any events that I wanted to go to. She didn’t like running, the theater, or art shows. So, the best we could do was alternate who got to pick the event for the night. I wasn’t thrilled she had dragged Markus along with us, but I didn’t want to go alone, so it would have to do for the evening.
Art shows were the perfect place to recruit for Dating the Rich and I really did need the bonus. The men and women at art shows like this one were exactly our target clientele. Although I worked in the computer department, not marketing, I had heard about the bonus opportunity and couldn’t turn it down.
Basically, I just had to hand out cards with a link to our website on it. I had a personal link attached to my name and if they used it to sign up, then I got the bonus. It was an easy way for me to earn a little extra cash while hanging out at an art show I wanted to see anyway.
“Del, six o’clock,” Mattie said quietly as she nodded toward a man who was coming our way.
“Wow, he’s cute,” I whispered back.
“Hey, doll, you want me to buy you a drink, baby?” the man asked in a thick, Brooklyn accent.
I really had nothing against people with a Brooklyn accent. In fact, I’m fond of people with accents different than mine. The guy was decent looking, for sure. His large biceps bulged out of his dress shirt and his deep, brown eyes were mesmerizing. Unfortunately, calling me baby and asking to buy me a drink at an event that served free alcohol really wasn’t a great way to pick me up.
On the surface, the cute guy would have been exactly the type of man I liked to date. He was clean cut, dressed well, and obviously took care of himself physically. The exterior package was not everything, though, and I really had learned that over the last year of trying to date. I would much rather date a decent-looking nice guy than a drop-dead-handsome jerk of a guy.
“Nope. Enjoy your night,” I said as I pulled Mattie with me and fled the scene.
Markus followed obediently behind us as we went over to the large painting I had pointed out earlier. Standing up close with such a large painting made each detail come to life. From across the room, it had looked like just some paint splattered onto the ten-foot-tall canvas, but here, I could see words and pictures embedded into the paint. In the red, there were words of hate and as I read them, my heart raced and my emotions stung. I quickly moved over to the blue paint with words of kindness and love and felt my heartrate slowing down as I reviewed the rest of the painting.
The blue in the painting really looked more like waves from an ocean and the red like the sunset, although I wasn’t exactly sure what the artist was trying to portray. Art was one of those things where if you saw something meaningful, then it was a significant painting to you. Another person might not see the same thing and wouldn’t be willing to pay the same price.
To me, art was just another expression of what was on the inside of someone. Music and theater were some other art forms that really showed the soul of the artists. That was why I loved the arts so much: the emotions and pure feelings that artists, singers, and actors put into their work were incredible to see.
Sometimes, I’d thought I really wanted to be an artist when I grew up, but then I became a mother and realized I had to have a job that was more responsible.
“One million dollars!” Mattie exclaimed so loudly that everyone in the room turned to look at us.
“Shhhhh.”
“Del, they are seriously selling this painting for one million dollars. How on earth did I not become an artist? If this is how much money they make for putting globs of paint onto a canvas, I seriously need to rethink my profession.”
“Come on now, this painting took a lot thought and work, look closely,” I said in defense of the artist. Although, I couldn’t imagine anyone would pay that high of a price for artwork, either. It seemed pretty astronomical.
“You just like it because it looks like something Connor would paint for you at school,” she laughed.
“I have to agree; it does look a lot like one of his paintings. Except he doesn’t charge as much for his artwork. I could make a real killing if I started marketing his school artwork. Maybe I should get started on that.”
“How is Connor doing in kindergarten?” Markus asked.
“Really good. I like that he doesn’t have to go to daycare all day. The school day is much better because he really loves to be busy, just like his dad. I don’t think he ever sits down.”
The mention of my late husband quickly had both Mattie and Markus quiet. Anytime I mentioned Spencer, people didn’t know what to say. It was as if I had set off a bomb in the room. First, total silence; then, a quick change of subject so no one had to talk about the dead husband or that fact that I was officially a widow at only twenty-seven years of age.
“Do you think anyone will buy this?” Mattie asked as she changed the subject to avoid being uncomfortable. “It seems like a lot of money for someone to pay for one painting. I mean, not even a rich person would want to pay this much, right?”
“I don’t know, probably. There are a lot of really wealthy people here, and art is so subjective. Maybe the painting will mean something to the person who purchases it. You just never know.”
“It blows my mind that there are people in the world who have an extra million dollars to just buy spattered paintings. I mean, think about it: if they can afford a painting like this, it means they’ve paid for all their bills, all the fun extra stuff, probably have a summer house and tons of extra money. You don’t just spend this kind of money if it’s your last million dollars. The person who buys this is going to be so filthy rich, they literally think this is just a fun purchase. That’s mindboggling to me.”
“A lot of our clients at work are this rich. That’s why it’s called Dating the Rich, Mattie,” I laughed.
“Technically, I know that, but it’s always an abstract thing since I’m just on the phones for customer service issues. Really, most of my conversations are with ditzy girls who are trying to set up their profiles and can’t figure out how to upload their scantily-clad photos. It’s odd to me that these girls end up landing the rich guys. I mean, come on, do they have no shame, at all? These guys are actually just looking for a piece of ass.”
“Yep, that’s basically what we do. Hook up old, rich men with beautiful, young women who want their money,” I said, and we both busted into laughter.
The dating criteria some of the men from our website had seemed a little ridiculous. Many of them were simply looking for a pretty girl to show off and didn’t actually care if she was smart, career oriented, or had any goals in her life. There were some guys who seemed to be looking for a real partner and love match, but they were much fewer than the other type of guys.
“Excuse me, ladies,” a young man said as he walked past us to put a sold magnet over the placard for the painting we were looking at.
“It sold? I can’t believe that,” Mattie exclaimed.
“Yep, we only have a couple paintings left; they are over there, if you’re interested.”
“Okay, thanks,” she replied as she tried to play off her shock as being upset because she was just about to buy it. I could hardly contain my laughter and turned away so the worker couldn’t see me. “I’ll go take a look. Thank you so much.”
“Hey, doll face,” the handsome Brooklyn man said as I turned almost directly into his chest. If I hadn’t stopped quickly, I would have run smack dab into him.
I had to admit the firmness of his chest was very appealing. It had been months since I had been laid, and although that wasn’t a driving factor in choosing a date, I was starting to consider the benefits of a one-night stand with this guy. With a babysitter in place and a whole evening to myself, it did seem like a waste not to at least have some sex.
“Are you enjoying the art show?” I asked in an effort to test the waters and see if I could handle an evening with him.
If I wasn’t looking for a guy to actually date, I could settle for someone a little less than perfect. This guy was handsome. He would probably be fun in bed. I started to play over the possibility of bringing him home with me, but first, I’d have to at least have a full conversation with the guy.
That was my problem when it came to one-night stands. I had this crazy notion in my head that they needed to be able to hold a conversation. It was certainly a woman-type of criteria for a one-night stand; I doubted guys worried if their women could hold a conversation before they brought them home for a night full of fun.
“Sure, man, this is on point. I love art shit.”
“Will you be buying any of the pieces?” I ventured to guess he wasn’t wealthy enough to purchase one of the paintings, but you never knew what someone had in their wallet.
Money wasn’t all that important to me, though. I didn’t plan on settling down with any man in the near future, so I was only asking as a form of reference to see why this guy was at the art show. If he was there to purchase something, at least I’d know we had art in common.
“Yeah, I might,” he said unconvincingly. “You think I should buy some of this painting crap?”
That was it: I couldn’t pretend to like this guy long enough to sleep with him. I could hardly stand having a conversation with him. This was exactly why my life as a one-night stand type of woman was so limited. I couldn’t sleep with someone I didn’t at least like, even if it was only going to be for one night.
“Well, I need to get back to my friends. It was nice talking to you. If you’re interested, I work at a high-end dating site and they are always looking for good-looking guys to join. Here’s a card,” I said, as I started to turn back to my friends.
“Hey, don’t leave yet,” he said as he grabbed my arm.
I turned back slowly and looked down at my arm and then up to him. My mouth pressed tightly in anger, and I waited to see if he would let go on his own or if I was going to have to punch him in the face. I really had no qualms about punching the guy right there, in front of everyone.
Guys who grabbed women like he did didn’t deserve the time of day. There wasn’t an excuse for it. Sure, I understood if a guy gently took my arm to get my attention; there was a difference, though. A guy who was just trying to get your attention was soft, gentle, and let go when you turned around. This guy had not gotten the memo on how to treat a woman – that was very clear.
“Sorry, babe, I just wanted to talk some more. Don’t be such a bitch about it.”
“Not going to happen,” I said as I tried to control my anger and not get too noisy in the middle of the crowded room. “Now, are you going to let go of my arm?”
“Um, yeah, sorry, darling,” he said. “No harm, no foul.”
“Don’t touch a woman like this again. It’s not okay. Do you understand?”
“Whatever,” he said as he stormed off.
As I turned back to my friends, an inkling of misery flashed through my mind. I certainly wouldn’t be having a night full of unadulterated sex. My prospects were getting slimmer and slimmer as I got older; now I understood why some women ended up being single all their life.
Once you passed that age where you were willing to compromise, you moved into an era where you were self-sufficient and lame guys just weren’t needed. I was definitely self-sufficient, and as good as an orgasm sounded, I wasn’t that desperate for one.
“Another drink?” Markus asked Mattie and me.
“Yep, keep them coming. No reason to turn down some free liquor. Plus, if I get a few more in me, maybe I’ll be able to get the rest of these referral cards handed out,” I said as I held out a stack of a dozen cards.
“Del, seriously! Are you really going to hand all those out?”
“Yep, we get a five-hundred-dollar bonus for anyone who signs up with our referral. I could really use the money. There never seems to be enough.”
“Isn’t the house paid for, after…you…know? I mean…”
“Yes, Mattie. After Spencer died, I used the life insurance to pay off the house, and I still had a decent amount left. But it’s been four years and we have dwindled the remaining money away. Luckily, I get paid a decent salary or we wouldn’t be able to keep the house. I pay two thousand dollars a month just for taxes and insurance; there’s no way I would have been able to stay there if we had a mortgage payment.”
“I’m glad you guys got to keep the house. That’s an important part of stability for Connor,” Mattie said in one of her brief, real moments of talk about my life after the death of my husband. “Should we go find Markus? I think he’s lost.”
“Sure, let’s go over to the bar in the front. There was a pretty bartender there,” I laughed.
As much as I loved Mattie, I didn’t really like her boyfriend Markus much at all. I knew we were going to find him talking to some pretty girl and it would break Mattie’s heart. I’d urged her to leave him so many times, though, that it wasn’t even funny anymore.
“Hey, he only cheated once; he’s not going to do it again,” Mattie said. “We’ve talked about it.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I was only joking. I’m sure there is just a big line,” I said, although I didn’t think that, at all.
Sure enough, as we strolled over to the bar, there was Markus chatting up the model look-a-like redhead who was talking way more than she was making drinks. My heart sank at the idea that Mattie was staying with this guy. Of course, I couldn’t tell her to leave her boyfriend anymore; I could only hope that someday she’d be confident enough to be alone.
So many people told me I was strong for being a single mom. I never really thought of myself as strong. You just did what you had to do in situations where you had to step up. What were my other options? Sulk away and give up on parenting my son? Obviously, I wasn’t going to do that.
Sure, times had been really rough right after my husband’s car accident. I had been home on extended maternity leave and to be honest, wasn’t planning on going back to work. Dating the Rich was a new company, and I worked as a secretary straight out of college. I had only worked there a few months when I got pregnant, and as soon as I had Connor, I knew I wanted to stay home with him. Luckily, Spencer was agreeable to my plan.
But everything changed one warm July night. Spencer had been driving home to Los Angeles from San Francisco. He had stayed late to help a client, and from the accident report, it sounded like he had fallen asleep at the wheel before he drove off the road.
Nothing could have prepared me for being a single mother and I certainly hadn’t ever thought I would have to be one. It was harder than I could have imagined, not having another adult around to help out with the day-to-day things.
I certainly couldn’t imagine what Mattie would have to deal with if she stayed with Markus and got married like they were planning. Nope, I wasn’t planning on getting married anytime soon – if ever again. I was accustomed to my single life, and it suited me just fine.
“Don’t say a word,” Mattie said as we walked up to Markus. “You are one hell of a guy. You think I’m just going to keep dating you when you do stuff like this?”
“Oh, babe, nothing was happening. I was just getting your drinks,” he said, yet he didn’t have a single drink in his hand.
“I’m going to get going, Mattie; I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
“It’s okay, Del; we just need to talk for a second and then I’ll go look at the art with you,” Mattie said. “I’m sorry. It will just take a minute.”
“No worries. I’m going to walk around. We can talk about it tomorrow at work,” I winked. “Take care of yourself.”